must be alone to think upon the tremendous and horrible revelation which
had just dawned upon his mind. As Saurin passed him he hissed in his
ear the one word "Fool!" And there was such an evil look of mingled
rage and fear on his face as the human countenance is seldom deformed
by.
But Edwards met it without quailing, and there was nothing but aversion
in the glance he gave him back. The scales had fallen from his eyes,
and his infatuation was dissipated. Never again was he to listen
greedily to Saurin's words, and think them wiser than any others. Never
more would he admire and applaud him; build castles in the air, forming
wild projects for the future, in his company, or associate willingly
with him. They exchanged no other word, and Saurin went his way,
strolling in a leisurely manner till he was out of sight; and then
quickening his pace he took the direction of Slam's yard. At the rate
he was walking he soon got there, and going round to the well-known
back-door, he knocked. It was not long before he saw an eye
reconnoitring him through a crack.
"Come, do not keep me waiting here all day while you are squinting
through that hole!" he cried with a savage oath. "Let me in."
Josiah Slam said apologetically that he wanted to make sure who it was,
and admitted him.
"Have you got the money, master?" he asked.
"I have got four pounds, and that is all we can raise. It is as much as
we have had in cash, and if you will give up that memorandum for it I
will pay it you."
"Nonsense! it's for five pund, I tell yer, and five pund I will have."
"No you won't; I cannot get it. So if you won't take the four, let me
out. You may do your worst."
"Come, say four ten."
"You fool, don't you see I am in earnest!" cried Saurin, his suppressed
rage bursting out. "Why, I would cut your dirty throat if--" He
restrained himself and said, "Fetch the paper if you mean to; I cannot
breathe the same air as a man who has threatened me, and I won't stand
bargaining here a minute longer."
Josiah Slam knew when he had got his victim in a corner, and desperate
to biting pitch; so without another word he fetched the I O U and gave
it to Saurin, who simultaneously handed him _two sovereigns and four
half-sovereigns_. The fellow took it with a chuckle, for he had never
had the slightest intention of getting himself into trouble, which he
assuredly would by attempting to make any use of that bit of paper.
Call upon Dr Jolliffe indeed, to get a couple of school-boys, whom he
had fleeced, into a shindy! Not worth the trouble for him, indeed. But
it occurred to him that the threat might bring cash, and it had.
"Won't yer come in and have something?"
"Let me out!"
"Well, if you must go, here you are. Good-bye, young gent, and better
luck next time. And if when yer goes racing, yer wants--" Saurin was
out of hearing.
"Bless 'em," continued Mr Slam, junior, "I should like to know a few
more like them two young gents a good bit richer. Well, they are about
somewhere, if one could but light on 'em."
Saurin did not return to Weston at once, but walked as fast as he could
put foot to ground along the lanes and the highroad, trying by physical
exertion to numb thought, and he partly succeeded, now and then, for a
short time, but black care soon caught him up again, and brooded over
his shoulder.
A voice which did not seem to emanate from his own brain kept repeating,
"What you have done can never be undone; never, never. Not if you live
to be a hundred; not for all eternity." "It can, it shall," he replied.
"Only let me escape suspicion, and I will make it up over and over
again." "That would not make what has happened, not to have happened."
"It is only one act." "Self-deceiver, you have been growing to it for
years, your corruption has been gradual, and this is the natural result.
You will go on now; each time it will come easier to you, until you
grow to think nothing of it. Read your future--outcast, jail-bird."
"No, no; I will lead a new life, work hard, avoid bad company." "Avoid
bad company! I like that! What company can be worse than your own
_now_?" "I will _not_ sink deeper; no one knows." "You forget; one
does know, others _may_ know, _will_ know." "I could not bear that; I
would destroy myself and escape the shame." "Destroy yourself indeed!
I defy you; you cannot do it. You may kill yourself; it is not at all
unlikely; but that is not destruction, but only the commission of
another crime."
This inward voice became so real to him that he thought he must be
possessed or else going mad. Suppose it were the latter, and he let the
truth out in his delirium! He determined to live by rule, to study
hard, to be conciliatory, not to draw observation on himself. And to
begin with, he must be getting back to Weston; it would never do to be
late, and risk questioning.
The first time he had an opportunity of speaking to Edwards alone he
said, "I have seen that man as I promised, and there is nothing to fear
from him. I have secured his silence."
"At what a price!" sighed Edwards.
"Look here," murmured Saurin, turning on him fiercely; "if it is as you
think, you take advantage of it, which is just as bad. We are in the
same boat, and must sink or swim together. What is done cannot be
undone; don't be a fool. If your weakness excites suspicion it will be
ruin to both of us."
"I know, I know," said Edwards, turning away with loathing.
They hated the sight of one another now, these two inseparables. What
revolted Edwards most of all was the other's insinuation about Crawley.
It was all of a piece with his conduct when Buller was accused of that
poaching business, and showed his true character. Days went by and they
never spoke to one another of the shameful secret they shared, and
indeed rarely on any other subject. They would have avoided all
association if it had not been for the fear of exciting suspicion. They
were more attentive to their studies, and at the same time took a more
prominent part in the school games than either had done for a long time:
Edwards, because it was his natural bent to do so when freed from other
influences; and Saurin, partly from prudence, partly because he was
making a struggle to escape from the net which he felt that evil habits
had thrown around him. He was like one who has been walking in a fog
along the brink of a precipice, and discovers his position by setting a
foot on the very edge and nearly falling over. He shrank from the abyss
which he now saw yawning for him. At the same time he exerted himself
to become popular, and since he was no longer anxious to thrust himself
perpetually into the foremost place, he was not without success.
"What a much better fellow Saurin is now he has given up going to that
Slam's yard!" said one of his intimates, and his hearers acquiesced. He
had never repeated that abominable hint about the possibility of
Crawley's not having lost the money at all; but Gould had taken up the
idea, and the gossip had spread, as such ill-natured talk about any one
who is popular or in a higher position than others, is sure to do. Very
few, if any, really believed that there was a grain of truth in the
notion, but some thought it clever to talk as if they did, just to be
different from the majority. Others might jump to a conclusion,
swallowing all that the popular idol chose to tell them, but they
withheld their judgment. Unluckily these rumours reached Crawley's
ears; some friendly ass "thought he ought to know," as is always the
case when anything unpleasant is said, and it fretted and annoyed him
exceedingly.
It also had the effect of annulling a movement which was being set on
foot to make up the missing money by subscription, the notion of which
emanated curiously enough from the same source as the scandal. Saurin
had thrown out the hint as a sneer, not a suggestion, but it was taken
up by some honest lad in the latter sense. It had been submitted to the
masters, who not only approved but were anxious to head the
subscription, and the whole thing could have been done at once without
anyone feeling it. But Crawley called a special meeting, and the pupil-
room was crammed to overflowing this time to hear what he had to say,
which was this: "I have asked you to come for a personal and not a
public reason. I am told that it is proposed to raise a subscription to
make up the four pounds twelve the fund has been robbed of. Now, though
I was perhaps not careful enough, I could hardly expect my keys to be
taken out of a coat and the box opened during a short absence, and so I
should have been very glad not to have to bear this loss, for which, of
course, I am solely responsible, alone. But some kind friends (Gould, I
believe, started the idea) are pleased to say that I have robbed myself;
that is, I have spent the money intrusted to me and invented the story
of a robbery." ("Oh! oh! shame! shame!") "Well, yes, I think it was
rather a shame, and I am glad you are indignant about it. But the
accusation having been once made, of course I cannot accept the kind
suggestion to make the loss good."
There was a great hubbub and loud protestations, but Crawley was firm.
His honour was at stake, he said, and he must repay the money himself;
then his traducers at all events could not say that he had profited by
holding the office of treasurer. Those who had indulged in idle
innuendoes were heartily ashamed and sorry, and Gould for a short time
was the most unpopular boy in the school. Crawley cut him dead.
The day following this special meeting was Saturday, exactly one week
after the robbery, and the day appointed for the football match between
the houses of Head-master and Cookson. I fear that a detailed account
of this match would hardly interest you, for this reason. The Head-
master, whose scholarship and capacity worked up Weston to that state of
prosperity which it has maintained ever since, was an Etonian, and the
games instituted under his auspices were played according to Eton rules.
Dr Jolliffe had also been educated at the same school, and thought
everything connected with it almost sacred. So it happened that the
Rugby game of hand-and-football had never supplanted the older English
pastime, which it has now become so much the fashion to despise, and
which, indeed, if it were not for the Eton clubs at Oxford, Cambridge,
and elsewhere, might disappear as the national rats did before the
Hanoverian. The Westonians then used round, not oblong footballs; their
object was to work the ball between the goal-posts, not over a bar at
the top of them; and it was unlawful to touch it with the hands unless
caught in the air, and then only for a drop-kick.
I do not advocate one game more than the other; both to my thinking are
excellent, and I have no sympathy with those who would suppress every
pastime which is fraught with some roughness and danger. The tendency
of civilisation is naturally towards softness, effeminacy, and a dread
of pain or discomfort; and these evils are far more serious than
bruises, sprains, broken collar-bones, or even occasionally a more
calamitous accident.
However, the chances are that my reader is all in favour of the Rugby
game, and would therefore follow the changes and chances of the present
match with but little interest. It was exciting enough, however, to
those who were engaged in it, for Cookson's made a better fight of it
than their opponents expected. They had been practising with great
pains, and their team worked well together and backed each other up
excellently. So that, quite early in the match, the ball having been
some time at their end, and they acting solely on the defensive,
Jolliffe's thought they were going to carry all before them and got a
little rash and careless; those who should have kept back to guard their
own end pressing too far forwards, when Edwards, who was fleet of foot
and really good at seizing chances, got a clear kick at the ball which
sent it over the heads of the attackers into the middle of the field,
and, getting through to it again, began dribbling it towards the hostile
goal with a series of short kicks, having a start of the field, who,
seeing their error, were now racing back to their own end. The goal-
keeper dashed out and met Edwards in full career, both kicking the ball
at the same time; but another on the Cookson side, who had been keeping
close in view of such a contingency, got a fair chance at the ball,
which slipped sideways from the two, and sent it sheer between the
posts, scoring a goal for Cookson's.
The success of such a simple manoeuvre was equivalent to a "fools' mate"
at chess, and was a lesson to Jolliffe's never to despise their enemy.
They were not to be caught napping again, however, and, by dint of
steady, persistent, concentrated play, they too got a goal and equalised
matters. Then, after a considerable period, during which the advantages
fluctuated, they obtained a rooge. If, in the old game, the ball is
kicked behind the goal-posts but not between them, there arises a
struggle between the contending sides to touch it with the hand. If one
of the defenders, those behind whose goal the ball has passed, does so
first, nothing has happened, and the ball is kicked off again for
renewal of the game. But should one of the opposite side so touch it, a
rooge is gained. The rooge is formed close in front of the defenders'
goal, they being clustered in a semicircle with their backs to it, and
with a big and heavy member of the team for the central pillar, who
plants his heel firmly in the ground, the ball being placed against his
foot. The opposite side complete the circle, leaving an opening for one
of their number to rush in and get a good kick at the ball--they
instantly closing upon him and endeavouring to force the whole surging,
struggling mass bodily back between the posts, ball and all; if they
cannot make an opening they send the ball through alone--the defenders,
of course, endeavouring to force the ball out sideways, and either touch
it down behind their goal or get it away from their end altogether. One
goal counts more than any number of rooges; but when no goal is made at
all, or the number of them on each side is equal, the rooges decide the
game.
Ends were changed, and after a good deal of play without result
Cookson's also scored a rooge, and matters were equal again; after which
the Jolliffe team, which was the strongest physically, kept the ball
entirely in the neighbourhood of the Cookson goals. For the latter had
made great exertions, and were tiring fast. The time fixed for leaving
off play was now approaching; and if they could only keep matters as
they were a little longer they would make a drawn match of it, which
would be of itself a triumph, considering that their opponents, with the
redoubtable Crawley at their head, were reckoned so much the stronger.
"Come, we _must_ get one more rooge," said the Jolliffe captain, "and
weak as they are getting we ought to turn it into a goal." And pursuing
his determination he dribbled the ball up close to the base line, sent
it behind the goal-posts, and rushed forward to touch it down. Edwards
ran up to it at the same time to touch it first, and a collision ensued
which sent him flying. Near that spot there was a tree with seats round
it, and Edwards fell heavily with his side against a corner of this
wooden settle. Crawley touched the ball down.
"You have given us all our work to get this!" he called out to the
other, laughing; and then seeing that Edwards was lying on the ground,
he added, "You are not hurt, old fellow, are you? Only blown?"
But as the other was not in the position in which any one would lie
still a moment to get breath, he went up to him and repeated his
question.
"I don't know; I--I feel rather queer," was the reply.
Crawley stooped, and put his arms round his body to raise him up, but
Edwards shrieked out, "Ah! don't; that hurts!"
The other players now gathered round, and many offered well-meaning but
absurd suggestions. One practical youth ran off, however, to Cookson's
house to report what had happened, and then returned with a chair. By
the time he got back Edwards had managed to rise, and was sitting on the
settle, very faint. They managed to transfer him to the chair, and
carried him home in it very gently, and by the time he was laid on his
bed, which had been got ready, the doctor arrived. A couple of ribs
were broken, he said, after an examination which made poor Edwards groan
a good deal; but he did not think there was much more the matter, which
words were a great comfort to Crawley, who began to fear that he might
have been the cause of the boy's death. He was quite sufficiently sorry
and vexed as it was, and would have liked to nurse him if he had been
allowed.
It was just as well for his reading that they were not in the same
house, for he spent all the hours that he was out of school, and not
necessarily in his own tutor's, by Edwards' bedside. You cannot fall
with your side against a sharp angle heavily enough to break a couple of
ribs without feeling it afterwards, I can tell you, so you had better
not try, and Edwards suffered a good deal from pain and difficulty of
breathing for a few days, and when the inflammation was got down, and he
felt more easy, he was kept back by a great depression of spirits.
"One would say that the boy had something on his mind!" said the doctor
to Mr Cookson, "but that is impossible. At his age we possess no minds
worth speaking about to have anything upon;" and so he lost the scent
after hitting it off to go on the trail of a witticism, which after all
was not very brilliant.
Edwards was delirious one night, and astonished the housekeeper, a
motherly dame who sat up with him, by his talk on the occasion.
"Look here!" he said; and thinking he wanted drink or something she got
out of her chair and leaned over him; "let us have five shillings on the
black this time; it has gone red four times running, and that can't go
on, can it?"
"Certainly not," said Mrs Blobbs, wondering whatever the boy's
distracted fancy was running on. "Don't do it! Don't do it!" he then
cried. "I'll have nothing to say to it. Let us stand our chance
rather. Not that way; not that way; no, no, that's making bad worse. I
won't! I won't!"
That was only one night, however, the third after the accident, and he
was all right in his head next morning, only so terribly depressed.
Saurin never came near him.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN.
COMPOUNDING A FELONY.
"I know what is the matter with you," said Crawley, replacing the pieces
on a backgammon board at the end of the game.
"Do you?" replied Edwards, turning if possible a shade paler, while his
heart palpitated under his sore ribs.
"Yes," continued the other; "you are worrying because you cannot get on
with your reading, and the prospect of examination is getting
uncomfortably distinct. I hear from Mr Cookson that you have been
mugging lately, just as I have. Well, you will not lose much time, and
you will find yourself all the clearer for lying fallow a little. And
look here, I am a little more forward than you, and if you will come and
stay with us in the holidays I will read with you; I think I could help
you a bit. My mother would be very glad to see you. Or if that can't
be, I'll come to you. I am sure we could more than make up for any lost
time."
Edwards was able to sit up now, and Crawley read amusing books, and
played games with him whenever he could leave school or pupil-room.
"What a kind chap you are!" said Edwards with a broken voice, and with
water in his eyes, for he was very weak and nervous; "I--I don't deserve
it."
"Not?" exclaimed Crawley. "Why, surely I ought to do what I can, when
it is my fault that you got hurt. I am most unlucky this term; I get
robbed, and am suspected of inventing the story of it to cover my
misappropriation of the money; and then I wind up with breaking a
fellow's ribs!"
"No one thinks for a moment that you were not robbed as you say; I am
certain of it!" cried Edwards.
"I don't know about that; some of them said they did, and I would give
anything to prove that they did me wrong. It will stick in my gizzard a
long time, I can tell you."
Edwards buried his face in his hands and fairly sobbed.
"I can bear it no longer," he cried at last. "You so kind to me and
all! I know who robbed you."
"You!" exclaimed Crawley, thinking the boy had gone delirious again.
"Yes, I," repeated Edwards. "I did not see it done, and he never told
me he had done it, but I know he did, and--and, I profited by the money
and never said anything."
"Come, come, Edwards, you are ill and weak, and exciting yourself too
much. We will talk about this another time."
"No, no, now; I must speak; it is killing me."
And then he rapidly told the whole story; how Saurin and he had gambled
and lost, and the peril they had brought themselves into; and how Saurin
had gone that fatal Saturday afternoon to try and borrow money of
Gould--all he knew, in short.
"Saurin!" said Crawley, when he had heard all. "I never thought very
much of him, but I had no idea he was so bad as that. But don't you
fret, Edwards; you were put in a very queer position, and nobody could
say what he would do if he suddenly found it his duty to denounce an
intimate friend for a crime which was committed to get out of a scrape
in which he himself was implicated. It would be an awful hole to be in!
How far have you told me all this in confidence?"
"I leave that quite to you. I do not ask to be spared myself, but if
you could be cleared and satisfied without Saurin being publicly tried
and sent to prison, I should be very grateful."
"All right! I think I can manage that. And now, don't you bother
yourself; you shall not get into any row, that I promise."
"Oh, Crawley, what a good fellow you are!" cried Edwards. "I wish I had
got killed, instead of only breaking a couple of ribs!"
"And let me in for being tried for manslaughter!" exclaimed Crawley,
laughing. "Thank you for nothing, my boy."
Crawley made up his mind that night what he would do. The next morning
he asked Robarts, Buller, and Smith, _alias_ "Old Algebra," to come to
his room when they came out of school at twelve. Then he made the same
request of Gould, who looked surprised and flustered.
"You will condescend to speak to me at last, then?" he said, sulkily.
"I could not suppose that you wished to hold any communication with a
defaulter," replied Crawley, "and I am sure I could not trust myself in
the company of any fellow who thought me one. I ask you to come to my
room now because I have discovered who took the money, and I want to
clear myself in your eyes."
"All right! I will come if you wish it."
"Thank you very much."
Having thus arranged for his court of inquiry, the next thing was to
secure the attendance of the accused. He found Saurin talking to a knot
of boys, and asked if he could speak to him privately for a moment.
"Well, what is up?" Saurin asked. "You look as grave as a mute at a
funeral."
"Yes," said Crawley, "what I have to say is rather grave. It is about
that four pounds twelve shillings you took out of my box."
"It's a lie!" cried Saurin, turning pale as death.
"And yet the evidence against you is very clear," said Crawley quietly.
"Do you know a man named Josiah Slam, a son of the fellow who lives near
here? Come, I do not wish to prosecute you, unless you force me; I want
to give you a chance. Robarts, Buller, Smith, and Gould are coming to
my room at twelve o'clock to-day, and I mean to take their advice as to
what should be done if you will come there too, and meet them."
"And if I refuse?" said Saurin.
"In that case I shall go to Dr Jolliffe, and put the matter in _his_
hands," replied Crawley.
"Well, I do not mind coming to hear what cock-and-bull story you have
trumped up," muttered Saurin, turning away. He feared lest an unguarded
word should betray him.
His anxiety was terrible. What did Crawley know? What was mere
conjecture? Of course Edwards had put him on the track; but had he done
so distinctly, or had this suspicion been aroused by his wandering talk
when delirious? Everything might depend on his exercising calm judgment
just now, but his head was in a whirl and he could not collect his wits.
Should he make a bolt? Oh, no! that would be confessing himself
guilty. Should he defy Crawley? That would bring about a trial, in
which he might be found guilty. It seemed safest to go to Crawley's
room at twelve and hear what he had to say.