Saint Kirwin's boasted a really beautiful chapel, large, lofty, rich in
stained glass and abundant sculpture of first-rate design and execution.
The services, which were fully choral, were rendered by an excellent
choir drawn from the school, and on Sundays and on certain saints' days
its performance would have done credit even to the average cathedral.
The structure was in shape a parallelogram, the seats running in long
rows, tier upon tier the whole length, certain stalls, however, being
returned against the west wall on either side of the entrance. The
principal of these was that of the headmaster, who thus had the whole
assemblage under his view. And his lynx gaze was quick to descry any
irregularity, and woe indeed to the prefect in whose row such should
occur, and still greater woe to the delinquent or delinquents.
We have said that Dr Bowen cut an imposing figure as he entered the big
schoolroom in cap and gown amid an awed silence, but he looked, if
possible, more imposing still in chapel, in his snowy voluminous
surplice and great scarlet hood, as, preceded by a verger, he made his
way along the aisle to read the Lessons from the great eagle lectern
which stood in the middle of the choir; indeed, so majestic was his gait
and bearing on these occasions as to be the source of a good deal of
surreptitious fun on the part of the more satirically minded, among
whom, needless to say, was our friend Haviland.
Now the latter, on this ill-fated afternoon, was standing outside the
door, striving to recover breath after the length and severity of his
run. If only he could enter and reach his place unseen by the Doctor,
it would be all right. The master of the week--in this case Mr
Williams--his own dormitory master, a good-natured and genial athlete,
would give him an imposition, as in duty bound, but would almost
certainly not report him at head-quarters, which he was not strictly
bound to do. But how on earth could he accomplish any such entrance
seeing that the Doctor's stall was next to the door, and commanded
everything that went on, as we have said? And then there occurred to
him a desperate scheme, one which spoke much for his readiness and
resource, and on that account alone deserved to succeed. What if he
were to seize the opportunity when the Doctor should descend from his
stall, and, the moment his back was turned, slip in and walk close
behind him all the way to the lectern. Arrived there, the attention of
the Great Panjandrum would be momentarily diverted while turning to
ascend the steps, and he could slip into his seat, which, luckily, stood
there hard by. The chance was a desperate one indeed, but it was his
only one. He would risk it.
Would the chanting never cease? Haviland's heart thumped, and a mist
seemed to come before his gaze. Ah, now for it! The voices were
tailing off into an Amen; the organ stopped with a final snarl, then
silence, only relieved by a rustling sound and that of footsteps on the
stone floor. Now was his time.
The door, fortunately, was not quite closed, and so could be opened
noiselessly. Now it was done, and Haviland was within the chapel, his
rubber-soled shoes making no noise as he stole along, conscious of a
confused sea of faces; and, indeed, that progress seemed to his excited
brain like hours instead of minutes, and the great scarlet hood adorning
the Doctor's back seemed like a huge red-hot furnace before his eyes.
This strange procession had reached the lectern. Haviland felt safe.
He had calculated his move to a nicety, and in a fraction of a second
would have gained his place. But he had reckoned without the consummate
shrewdness, which was the result of long experience, of the headmaster
of Saint Kirwin's.
For the look of surprise, of interest, on the rows of faces on either
side of him as he paced up the aisle had not escaped that potentate, but
he was not going to impair the majestic dignity of his march by turning
then. When he had gained his objective he did just half turn, and in
the momentary compression of the lips and that one look on the Doctor's
face Haviland knew that his fate was sealed. To many there who had
witnessed the episode, and there were few who had not, it seemed that
there was a menacing growl in the sonorous voice rolling out the
splendid old Scriptural English.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
"Well, Haviland, what have you got to say for yourself?" said Mr
Williams, when our friend went to report himself afterwards.
"My watch stopped, sir. I thought I had plenty of time, and then heard
the bell begin when I was just coming off Sidebury Down. Even then I
tried to do it, but it was impossible."
"Well, I can't help that. You'll have to do four hundred lines,"
answered Mr Williams, fully intending to let him off half of them.
"One of my prefects, too," he added, half quizzically, half with a mock
aggrieved air.
"Very sorry, sir."
The imposition was really less than he had expected. If only the matter
were to rest there, he thought.
"I say, Haviland," subsequently remarked Laughton in hall. "You're a
cool customer, marching in behind Nick in that stately manner. Did you
think he wouldn't see you?"
"Yes. It was the only chance, and I took it. He wouldn't have, either,
if all those asses hadn't given, the show away by gaping like so many
idiots, confound them."
"What's Williams given you?"
"Four hundred. I believe I'll try and get him to let me off one. He
hasn't gated me either. He's a good sort, is Williams. What do you
think, Laughton? Think Nick'll take the thing any further? The old
brute looked vicious, and he perfectly hates me. I don't know why."
Laughton wouldn't commit himself to an opinion, and the general feeling
at the prefects' table was about evenly divided as to whether the Doctor
would take it up or not.
"If you could only have seen yourself, Haviland!" cut in Cluer, another
prefect. "It was enough to kill a cat, I swear it was. It looked for
all the world as if you and Nick were trying which could crowd on the
most side." And he spluttered over the recollection.
"Jolly good fun for you, Cluer, no doubt," said Medlicott, "and for all
of us, but it's beastly rough on Haviland, remember."
"Rather, if Nick's in one of his rotten moods," said Laughton. "But
let's hope he won't be."
Alas for any such hopes! On the way out of hall the fatal summons came:
"Haviland to go to the Doctor's study after prep, bell."
"All up!" groaned the implicated one.
When, at the appointed time, Haviland entered the dread presence, there
was no doubt but that the headmaster was "in one of his rotten moods,"
as Laughton had so graphically put it. Seated there at his study table,
his face wore a very thundercloud of sternness, as he curtly invited the
other to make his explanation. This was exactly the same as that
offered to Mr Williams, but here it was received with a wrathful
grunt--and then in his most magisterial manner the Doctor proceeded to
deliver himself.
"You have been guilty of a double breach of rules, in that you were
absent from calling-over--for a part of which, by virtue of your office,
you were personally responsible--and you were late for chapel. It is no
excuse to say that your watch stopped; if that were any valid reason,
why then half the school might stay away from calling-over, and, indeed,
we might as well do away with calling-over altogether, or any other
rule. For a prefect to break the rules, which it is his bounden duty to
help in enforcing--to do which, indeed, is the very reason of his
official existence--has always been, in my eyes, a ten times greater
offence than the same conduct on the part of a junior.
"Now, over and above this double breach of the rules you have been
guilty of two further and very serious offences. You have disturbed the
decorum and dignity of divine service by entering the chapel in the way
you did, and you practised deceit in making that entrance in such manner
that you hoped it would escape my observation. Let me tell you that
nothing escapes my observation--"
"No, by Jingo it doesn't!" thought the delinquent, ruefully.
"--and of late that observation has convinced me that you are unfit to
hold the office you bear, for I have had you specially under my notice
for some time past. As, therefore, you have proved yourself utterly
unfit to hold office, I have made up my mind to deprive you of it, and
you may now consider yourself no longer a prefect."