Fluffy Jim provides a Sensation
Moonlight mingled its rays with daylight as Dick passed up the main
street, his heart feeling "like a flake of pure delight borne on an
ocean wide". He ran along the pavement, not caring that there were no
coins in his pocket to jingle in harmony with his movements. How much
better was an easy conscience than a heavy purse!
Knowing that he ought now to get quickly back to school, he was not too
pleased to have a detaining hand laid on his sleeve, and to find, on
turning abruptly, the grinning face of Fluffy Jim gazing amiably at him.
"Don't try to stop me, Jim, there's a good chap," he said. "I'm in a
hurry."
"Um," said Fluffy Jim, "um." But he still kept his tight hold on
Dick's sleeve. Something seemed to be on his mind, though he failed in
language to express it.
"Anything up, Jim?" queried Dick, impatiently. "If so, get it off your
chest. I haven't a minute to spare."
"Um," said Fluffy Jim again. Then, removing from his lips a short clay
pipe, he pointed with it to the moonlit hills.
"Want ter show thee summat," he said. "Summat funny, like."
"I dare say you do," said Dick, with a laugh. "But I don't want to be
shown--at least not at this end of the day. Try me when we meet again."
"Um," said Jim. Yet he tugged hard and insistently at Dick's sleeve,
and there was in his cunning eyes a depth of meaning that impressed
Dick in spite of himself.
A spirit of adventure seized the Captain of Foxenby, and a moonlight
visit to the hills, on that ideal evening, did not lack attraction for
him. Still, he made one more effort to disengage himself from Fluffy
Jim's grasp.
"Run away and play, Jim, that's a good boy," he urged. "Your penny
show will wait awhile."
"No," said Jim, with quite convincing decision. "Coom now! Want to
show thee summat!"
Curiosity got the upper hand of Dick. He pushed back from his mind the
repressive thought of Mr. Rooke, who had bidden him return early, and
motioned to Fluffy Jim to lead on. There was something rather
whimsical in the idea of the Captain of Foxenby playing truant, for all
the world like a roving imp from the Junior School!
Off set Fluffy Jim in high feather, making for the moors as fast as he
could pull one heavy hobnailed boot after the other. He looked an odd
figure of fun in the moonlight, but Dick knew better than to laugh.
"You know, Jim, you did me out of a goal as clean as a whistle in that
cup final at Walsbridge," Dick took the opportunity of reminding him.
"Um," grunted Jim.
"Why did you butt in? You robbed us of the cup, Jim."
"Um."
"It's all very fine saying 'um', Jim, but 'um' doesn't cut any ice.
Here, I say, tell me this--who put you over the ropes and sent you
across to kick the ball from my toes?"
"If Ah telled _thee_, tha'd _know_," was the crafty answer. "And
then," he added, unusually communicative, "Ah'd ger a worse 'warmin''
fro' Ike Doccan than Juddy an' his pals wor gi'ing me that day tha
stopped 'em."
"Ike Doccan! Why, that's the porter and handyman in Holbeck's House.
Did _he_ tell you to do it, Jim?"
But Fluffy Jim was quick enough to see that he had gone too far in
mentioning names.
"No, it worn't him. Ah did it mesen, 'cos tha couldn't scoöar. Um!"
Nothing more would he say, despite all Dick's most artful questioning,
so that the subject had to be dropped. But in the captain's mind a
suspicion had been born. He remembered now the frequency with which
Ike Doccan had joined the little group of Holbeck's House Seniors in
the days that preceded the final tie. Not in the least snobbish
himself, he had nevertheless thought it rather indiscreet, from the
standpoint of discipline, for the prefect of Holbeck's House to be seen
fraternizing with its porter, whose character for sobriety and good
manners was not above reproach. He had, indeed, been twice dismissed
for drunkenness, and twice reinstated because school porters were hard
to find.
"Now," thought Dick, "I wonder if that precious gang were gambling on
the match--betting against Foxenby winning--and didn't _want_ me to
score? By Jove! I recollect Smithies hinting in the train that some
of our chaps had made bets with him, but I jumped down his throat about
it. I guess it'll soon be my painful duty to have a talk with Luke
Harwood about this."
By this time they had reached the crest of the long hill which led to
the moors. The early moon shone clear upon the rough heathland path,
along which Jim silently plodded.
"What's your game, anyhow, Jim? Strikes me you've brought me all this
way on a fool's errand."
"Want to show thee summat."
"'Summat', yes--but where is 'summat'?"
"In t'owd cottage. Here 'tis. Come inside."
With quickening interest, Dick followed the idiot into the empty
cottage, through the paneless casement of which the moonlight streamed
on a scene of dilapidation. The oven door of a rusty kitchen-stove
stood open, and in the corner was a tumbled pile of abandoned tinware.
Condemned as unfit for habitation, the cottage had obviously been left
to fall asunder in its own time.
"Well, Jim, there's nothing here to write home about," said Dick.
"Come, now, own up that you've been making a fool of me, and let's get
away."
"Ah'm not hevin' thee for t'mug," said Jim solemnly. "There's summat
here 'at'll please thee. Ah fun it art for mesen. Noabody knows but
me. This ere floor plays a tune. Listen!"
He raised his heavily-booted feet with deliberation and commenced a
shuffling dance, grotesquely like the performance of a captive bear.
And sure enough to Dick's profound astonishment, the floor did play a
tune a jingle that, though harsh, was sufficiently musical to wreathe
the face of the idiot dancer in a delighted grin.
"Ah telled thee--didn't Ah tell thee?" cried Jim, in great excitement.
"Music!
'All around the mulberry bush,
Pop goes the weasel',"
he sang, kicking up his legs in ludicrous imitation of a pierrot
outside a travelling show.
"Here, slow down, Jim--that's enough! Got any matches in your pocket?
Good! A stump of a candle, too? Better still! Stick it in the neck
of that old beer-bottle--right-o! Now, just you lean up against the
window to keep the draught off, while I make a light. Don't move from
there, Jim. I want to see what's under these musical floor-boards of
yours."
Shielding the flickering candle with his body, he examined the boards,
and immediately saw that they had been fastened down with new nails.
They seemed loose, but not loose enough to be prized up by his
pen-knife, the larger blade of which snapped off when he tried his luck
with it.
"Bother!" he exclaimed. "The little blade's no use. Got a knife of
any sort on you, Jim?"
Jim produced a huge clasp-knife, containing a blade as strong as a file.
"T'coastguard gave me this," he chuckled. "Ah cuts me baccy wi' it.
Catch!"
Such an instrument was as good as a carpenter's tool to Dick. Speedily
he had raised one of the boards, and for the moment dropped it again in
sheer astonishment, so amazing was the discovery which his peering eyes
made. In the light of the candle he had seen coins and medals and
bric-a-brac, jumbled hastily together as though they had been poured
there from a sack.
Quickly regaining his control, he forced up another and yet another of
the boards, with the revelation of precious curios in each case.
"Jumping crackers! Here we have the headmaster's missing collection,
or I'm a Dutchman. Jim, don't stand grinning there like an ape. Come
over here and sit on these boards until I return. I'm going to Moston
as fast as I can gallop, and I'll get back in quick-sticks. Don't you
dare to move from here, Jim. Smoke your pipe, and I'll buy you some
more baccy later on--packets of it. You're sure you can stick it here
by yourself?"
[Illustration: "JIM, DON'T STAND THERE GRINNING LIKE AN APE"]
"Um," said Jim, settling down on the boards like a contented hen
covering chickens.
Still apprehensive, Dick uttered a final caution--perhaps more
effective than his previous warning.
"If you do leave here, Jim, I'll lam you when next I catch you."
"Um," said Jim, evidently impressed.
He proved a faithful custodian, being still there, squatting in a cloud
of rank tobacco-smoke, when Dick returned with an inspector and two
constables, who proceeded solemnly to lift out the curios one by one,
and by the light of their lanterns to make a careful note of each.
"I call this a funeral," said Dick. "Can't we bundle them all in the
bags and get off to Foxenby? You're cheating Old Man Wykeham out of
hours of joy by this game!"
"Sorry, Mr. Forge, but it must be done," said the inspector. "If the
head-master misses anything that ought to be here, he'll know the
burglars are to blame. Us police has to be particular. We has nasty
things said about us sometimes."
In consequence of all this ceremony the moon had climbed much higher
before the little party, having left a policeman to watch the cottage,
moved laboriously down the hillside in the direction of Moston. Here a
formal call had to be made at the police-station to report the
thrilling discovery, after which a swift motor-car took Dick and the
inspector up to the school.
The head-master had just risen from a frugal dinner, and was again
engaged upon a task which had hitherto baffled his intensest
efforts--that of piecing together in manuscript the descriptive details
of the precious curios which had for so many weeks been missing.
So deeply engrossed was he in this exacting memory test that even the
announcement of the inspector's coming conveyed little to his mind.
Therefore, when the inspector and Dick came in, each bearing a heavy
bag, he gazed at them with a lack-lustre eye, as though he imagined
them to be commercial travellers arriving with samples of school books.
The inspector saluted. "Your missing property sir," he said. "Will
you examine it, please, and compare it with the list made by me on the
spot?"
Crash went the head-master's chair on the floor, and down amongst his
manuscript went his glasses. With an almost juvenile bound he reached
the bags, satisfied himself at a glance that the recovery was indeed
genuine, and then turned to wring the inspector's hand effusively.
The inspector backed away as though he feared being kissed next.
"Don't thank me, sir; you owe it all to Mr. Forge here. It was he who
put us on the right track."
In official phrases he gave the Head particulars of the discovery, with
results that embarrassed Dick, who had never quite "hit it" with "Old
Man Wykeham", and was always more or less ill-at-ease in his presence.
This was not surprising, seeing that everybody knew the Head would have
preferred Luke Harwood as Captain of the School.
"A thousand thanks, Forge! Oh, bless my soul, boy, where's my
handkerchief--I must dab my eyes--I verily believe I am shedding tears
of joy, Inspector. Forge, dear lad--I'm the happiest man in England
to-day. All my precious curios are here, and with scarcely a scratch
on them. What could have possessed the burglars to dump them down
under the floor of that disused cottage?"
"Probably their pockets would be stuffed with stolen silver and notes,
sir," the inspector suggested, "and, finding us hot on their trail,
they decided to hide your coins and things till the hue and cry had
died down. They'll come nosing back for 'em, sir, as sure as fate.
Then we shall nab them, as we mean to leave officers concealed there
day and night."
"It is all very exciting--I feel mentally upside down. Dear me, how
very ungrateful you will think me, too. I was forgetting the reward.
For the recovery of my collection I offered fifty pounds--a mere
bagatelle compared with their value to me. Priceless treasures! My
Charles the First slip-top spoons in particular--I fretted badly over
those, and here they are, safe and sound. Forge, the reward is yours,
and right well deserved, too. Take a seat, dear boy, while I write out
your cheque."
"No, no, sir, nothing of the kind!" Dick hastened to say. "If the
reward must be paid, it should go to Fluffy Jim, the half-witted
village youth. But for him, the collection might not have been found.
He took me straight to it."
"That's true, Mr. Wykeham," interposed the inspector; "but Daft Jim
would never have thought of taking up the floor-boards. He was merely
amusing himself with the music, as he called it. The credit is really
Mr. Forge's, sir."
"You have all acted splendidly," the Head said. "There is no need at
all for splitting hairs. I am fairly well-to-do, Inspector, as you
doubtless know, and the total loss of my invaluable collection would
have blighted the hopes of a lifetime. Forge shall have his fifty
pounds (silence, my boy--I insist!), you and your staff shall hear from
me later, Inspector, and Jim's parents shall receive a sufficient
recognition of his services to enable them to purchase warm clothing
and substantial comforts for him.
"It is," he added, after a pause, "the very least I can do in grateful
acknowledgment of my amazing good fortune. I am only sorry that I
alone should have benefited, and that nobody else's property appears to
have been recovered. That's particularly hard lines on you, Forge, who
lost so much in cash. May I hope that you will now resume the
publication of your bright little house magazine?"
Dick looked hard at the cheque in his hand. It seemed as though he
were playing a part in a stage play--that he would awake to find it a
dream.
"I should like to start the _Rag_ again, sir, but better luck will be
needed next time."
The Head laughed joyously. "No more burglaries here, I trust! You'll
see to that, won't you, Inspector? And Forge, remember this, if ever
you get into difficulties again, be more confiding about them and come
to me. I think I can promise you that the _Rooke's House Rag_ will
never again cease publication for lack of funds."