"That's very serious," I said, "because your nephew's guardian hasn't
the slightest idea, either."
Her lips tightened over her dazzling teeth at the mention of the
guardian, and I could see she didn't like him. She spoke in a sneering
sort of voice and said:
"Ah! Really?"
Then, feeling there was nothing more to discuss, I got up and cleared.
"Let me know if anything transpires," she said, and not happening to
remember exactly what "transpire" meant, I merely said that no doubt the
Doctor would tell her all that might happen in the future about
Bradwell.
She shook hands in a kindly manner and saw me to the gate. And such was
her friendly spirit that she picked a small blue flower and gave it to
me to wear.
"Put it in your buttonhole," she said, which I did do until I was out of
sight, and could chuck it away without hurting her feelings.
The Doctor didn't seem to like what I had to say, and evidently thought
I hadn't got it right.
"His aunt appears as callous as his guardian," said the Doctor. "I am
to understand that he went out on Sunday morning and did not return, and
that Miss Mason has not the slightest idea where he has gone to?"
"That's what she made me understand, sir," I said.
"I fail to credit it," answered the Doctor. Then he dismissed me,
rather slightingly, and sent for Brown, who always does the detective
business at Merivale.
There was a good deal of quiet excitement about it, and, of course, we
all thought "Turbot" would be run to earth in a few hours, or days, at
most. But he never was; and though the police looked into the matter,
and hunted far and wide, they never even got a clue, because apparently
there wasn't one to get. In fact, "Turbot" vanished off the face of the
earth as far as Merivale was concerned; and it was a nine days' wonder,
as the saying is, and no light was ever thrown upon it till long
afterwards. The aunt was cross-examined by the police; but she knew
nothing, and cared less, as Brown said, for he cross-examined her also.
All she could say was that "Turbot" had gone out early, and not come
home in time for church, as she naturally expected a boy brought up at
Merivale to do. Which was one in the eye for Merivale. As for the
guardian, he offered a reward of ten pounds for the recovery of
"Turbot," and no more, which showed the market value of "Turbot" in that
guardian's opinion.
The only person who really worried was the Doctor, and I believe he
didn't leave a stone unturned to rout up "Turbot." But all in vain. He
had entirely disappeared, and being so ordinary in appearance, without
any distinguishing marks, he simply "vanished into the void," as Tracey
said, and we sold his cricket bat at auction, and one or two other
things of slight value which we found in his school locker. But a
portrait of his mother we did not sell, and I gave it to the Doctor, who
sent it to the aunt, who was much obliged for it, and wrote to old
Dunston with great thanks, and said she would keep it until the happy
day when "Turbot" turned up out of the void again. And that, I believe,
made the Doctor more suspicious than ever, for he always believed that
Miss Mason knew more about the "Turbot" than she pretended. In fact, he
told Mr. Fortescue that she was prevaricating, and Fortescue said it
looked as though she might be. As a matter of fact, Fortescue had his
own theory about "Turbot," and though he never told anybody what it was
till afterwards, then he told everybody because he proved to be
perfectly right.
This was that Fortescue, who wrote such splendid War poetry, but was
prevented from enlisting unfortunately by an illness of the aorta, which
is part of the heart, and, when enlarged, is fearfully dangerous. But
while he taught at Merivale, his soul was entirely in the War, and in
his spare time he did good work, chiefly at the Red Cross Hospital in
the town, where fifty wounded men were always on hand. When they got
well, they went and others came; and sometimes, when the War slacked
off, the numbers sank to thirty-two, or even thirty, and then, when it
burst out more fiercely, they quickly rose to fifty again.
Milly Dunston was one of the workers there, but only for swank and the
sake of the uniform. I believe she peeled onions and shelled peas, and
cut up meat and so on in the kitchen; and sometimes she was allowed to
go and see the wounded; but I never heard that they cared much for her
until they knew she worked in the kitchen. Then they took interest in
her, because she could tell them what they were going to have for supper
that night, and what they were going to have for dinner next day, which,
naturally, are things very important to the mind of a wounded hero.
Mr. Fortescue was well liked at the hospital, and took many cigarettes
there, also books suited to the Tommies, and he got to be so popular
that there was a fair fight for him; and if he favoured one ward, and
didn't go into the other for half the time, the other ward got vexed
about it, for Tommy has a jealous nature in some ways, though so heroic
in the field.
Then there came rather a bad cot case called Ted Marmaduke, and as soon
as he arrived, he sent a special message to the school for me and for
Fortescue; and Fortescue went to see him.
Of course, this happened long after I had left Merivale, and it was, in
fact, my brother who wrote to me about it; for after six months at
Woolwich, owing to luck and the War, and so on, I got a commission in
the Royal Engineers, and went to France. And there I heard from Travers
minor about the chap who wanted to see Fortescue. He had been wounded
in the cheek and also in the leg, and his face was almost hidden; but
his eyes were all right, and what was Fortescue's amazement to see the
eyes of Ted Marmaduke goggle in the old familiar way the moment he came
to his bedside. For there lay the "Turbot," and fearing that he was
going to die, he had determined to tell somebody the truth, and not die
anonymously, so to speak. And when he found he was at Merivale, of all
places, naturally he thought of Fortescue and me. But I was gone to do
my bit, so Fortescue went, and heard the true story of the wily
"Turbot."
He could only tell it in pieces, because it hurt him awfully to talk,
and, in fact, he wasn't allowed to talk much at a time. But what
happened was this. He had gone to the aunt for his birthday, and told
her in secret that he hated Merivale worse than ever, and was ashamed to
be there, with a moustache and everything; and she was a very martial
and fine woman, and entirely agreed with him. She had told him that he
was just the sort they wanted in the Army, and that though he could not
distinguish himself at school, that was nothing at such a time, and she
felt positive that he would jolly soon distinguish himself in the Army,
and do things at the Front that would make Merivale fairly squirm to
remember how it had treated him. And such was the aunt's warlike
instinct that when he reminded her he was only seventeen, she scorned
him for remembering it. "Go to the recruiting people," she said, "on
your seventeenth birthday, which is to-morrow, and when they ask you how
old you are, say you'll be eighteen on your next birthday, which will be
true." And he gladly did so. But the aunt was fearfully crafty as well
as warlike, for when "Turbot" decided to go off and enlist at Plymouth
under his own name, she pointed out that he would instantly be traced by
Dr. Dunston, and ignominiously dragged back out of the Army to Merivale.
So she advised him to take a train to the North of England, and enlist
up there, which he did do. And he changed his name to Ted Marmaduke,
and the enlisting people in the North never smelt a rat, and were quite
agreeable to take him when he said he would be eighteen next birthday.
And such was the fine strategy of the aunt that she expressly made
"Turbot" promise not to write a line to her till he was under orders for
the Front. Therefore, when she was asked if she knew where he was, she
could honestly say she didn't.
Of course, long before he came back wounded, he was entirely forgotten
at Merivale, and when Fortescue discovered him in our Red Cross
Hospital, and then confessed that he had always believed this was what
"Turbot" had really done, the excitement became great, and many of the
chaps asked to be allowed to go and see him, and some were allowed to do
so.
But it was not till the "Turbot" had recovered, and was going back to
fight, that Dr. Dunston forgave him; and he never forgave the aunt.
Yet that amazing aunt was more than a fine strategist; she was a prophet
also, for Fortescue found out in the papers that Ted Marmaduke, of the
3rd Yorkshires, was promoted a sergeant, and had won the D.C.M. for
splendid bravery in Gallipoli, just as his aunt had always prophesied he
would. Of course, she came to see him at the hospital, but she didn't
come to Merivale.
When he got nearly right, the old "Turbot" took tea at Merivale, and the
Doctor let the past bury the past, as they say, and made a speech, and
hoped that the chaps would follow "Turbot's" lead in certain directions,
though not in all. But privately to the "Turbot" he said more than
this. In fact, he dug up the past again, and reminded "Turbot" that he
should not do evil that good may come.
And "Turbot" quite saw this, and said he never would again.
Then he went back to the wars once more, and had good luck, I'm glad to
say, and before he'd been a soldier eighteen months, he got his
commission. For though such a mug at school, the military instinct was
in him all the time, and the War naturally brought it out. When he
became Lieutenant Bradwell, his guardian tried to make friends again;
but he scorned him, as well he might, though no doubt he will always be
friendly with his crafty aunt, for you may say that he owed pretty well
everything to her masterly mind.