THE LAST BOND OF FRIENDSHIP
While Harry had been explaining to Baldry what had happened at the shed,
Plunger and his two companions held fast to the door, under the
impression that Baldry was within. Plunger was in a high state of glee
at the capture he had made, and as soon as Harry had gone commenced
crowing loudly, explaining as he did so that "as old Baldy seemed to be
going in for dancing, he must give him a tune to dance to."
"Put the soft pedal on for a bit, Freddy," said Viner. "He's saying
things to himself. Let's listen."
Plunger, who had nearly crowed himself hoarse, kept silent for a moment,
as a smothered voice from within travelled through the door.
"Open the door--open the door!"
"Keep your wool on, Baldy!" retorted Plunger, in his most provoking
tones. "Drop the clog-dancing, and give us a song; it's getting
monotonous. What's the best rhyme for Baldy? How're the birds, beasts,
and fishes getting on? What's the kingdom you've sprinted to--animal,
vegetable, or mineral? Any more paragraphs for Jessell? We'll take them
along."
"Open the door! I'll--I'll smash you when I get out of this!" came the
voice from within.
"Smash us? Oh, oh, Baldy!" commenced Plunger, but Viner stopped him.
"Quiet, Freddy. Listen a moment. It doesn't sound to me like Baldy."
"Will you open that door? I'll pay you out for this! I'll--I'll----"
"Why--why, it's Newall!" whispered Plunger, aghast. "How's he got in
there?"
"Don't ask me," said Viner, turning cold, for he had always been on
particularly good terms with Newall.
"Can there be two of them in there, do you think?" suggested Bember.
"Ah, I see it all!" said Plunger, a light beginning to dawn upon him.
"Moncrief minor's let us in for this. That's the reason he's bolted."
"Seems to me we'd better bolt too," exclaimed Bember. "There won't be
much left of you, Freddy, if Newall gets hold of you."
"What price you? You're just as much in it as I am."
But Bember's advice commended itself to Plunger and Viner, neither of
whom was desirous of meeting their captive when he was released, so,
suddenly letting go their hold of the door, they bolted with all speed
in the direction of the school.
Newall continued shouting his threats at the top of his voice for a few
moments before he discovered that no one was on guard outside; then he
flung open the door, and dashed through with a yell, just as Arbery,
Parfitt, Hasluck, and others of the Fifth had started for the shed. They
came to a sudden stop when they saw the extraordinary figure that rushed
towards them in the darkness. And well they might, for Newall, smothered
in feathers from head to foot, presented one of the most extraordinary
sights it is possible to imagine.
"What is it?" asked Arbery, in an awestruck whisper.
"Ask me another. It--it looks like----"
But before Hasluck could explain what it looked like Newall had dashed
up to them.
"Newall!" came the astonished cry.
"Who--who's been doing this?" he cried, glaring fiercely round on his
companions.
"Doing what?" asked Hasluck.
"Can't you see? Nearly smothering me with feathers, and fastening me in
the Forum."
"We know nothing of it. We were just coming to the meeting when we heard
the shouting," answered Parfitt, in an injured tone. "Is it likely we'd
play a trick on you, Newall?"
"It sounded like some of those imps of the Third. They were talking to
me as if I were Baldry."
At this moment Paul joined the group, wondering what was the matter.
Directly Newall caught sight of him, he turned towards him fiercely:
"Do you know anything of this? Had you a hand in it?"
"I don't know what you are talking about," answered Paul coldly.
"Of course not. You never do when it suits your purpose. Can we believe
anything from the fellow who shakes hands with a Beetle--with the enemy
of Garside?" came the sneering answer.
Paul staggered back as though he had been struck. Some one had seen him
shake hands with Wyndham then, and, without knowing the facts, his
enemies were already putting the worst possible construction on it.
Stanley had joined the group as Newall was speaking.
"If you can't believe anything I say, what's the use of asking me
questions? It seems to me a waste of breath."
"Did you or did you not set those fellows on to keep me in the shed?"
demanded Newall hotly.
"I'm not going to answer you," said Paul firmly.
"Then perhaps you'll answer me," said Stanley, stepping forward to
Newall's side, pale to the lips.
Paul had not noticed his arrival, and did not know that he was present
till he heard his voice. It stirred the old feeling of love and
friendship within him, though there was little that was friendly in its
tone.
"Answer you what, Stan?" asked Paul, in softer tones.
Stanley knew little of the grounds of the present dispute, but he
guessed that he could not be far wrong in repeating the question that
Newall had just put. So he repeated it.
"Yes, I'll answer it," came Paul's response, "for whatever else you may
think me guilty of, Stanley, I don't think you'll believe me guilty of
telling a deliberate falsehood. I haven't set anybody on to keep Newall
a prisoner in the shed, and, whatever has happened to him, I've had no
hand in it."
He spoke with such earnestness and sincerity that there was scarcely any
one present, with perhaps the exception of Newall himself, who doubted
him.
"I think you can take Percival's word for it," said Stanley, turning to
Newall.
"Thanks so much for one crumb of confidence." Paul, in spite of himself,
could not prevent a slight accent of bitterness creeping into his voice.
"It is really very good of you to think that my word may be taken, and I
hope you won't think me ungrateful."
"If you say his word may be taken, Moncrief," said Newall, with a shrug
of his shoulders, "that's enough. But as you have so much confidence in
him, you'd better question him about the Beetle."
"I was going to," answered Stanley, as, once more turning to Paul, he
asked: "One of the fellows saw you speaking to a Beetle yesterday. Is
that true?"
"Quite true."
"Shaking hands with him?"
"Yes."
Stanley groaned inwardly. He had hoped that it was a mistake--that his
cousin's eyes had deceived him, but there was no mistake. It was only
too true. He turned away, unable to hide the disappointment on his face.
Paul caught a glimpse of it in spite of the darkness, and was about to
speak, but Newall quickly interposed.
"There's another question which Moncrief's modesty prevents him from
asking," he said, with a sneer. "We've been given to understand that the
Beetle you shook hands with is the same Beetle who knocked Moncrief
about in the sand-pit. Is that true, too?"
Paul was silent, as though he still stood to the resolution he had made
not to answer Newall.
"Is it--is it?" demanded Stanley, turning swiftly round again, his tone
almost as fierce as Newall's had been.
"Yes; it is true." Then he added in a lower voice: "There are things I
can't explain. Will you meet me quietly, by yourself, just for a few
minutes, Stanley?"
"There's nothing I'm ashamed of. I've no secrets," came the proud, cold
answer. "If you've anything to explain, explain it now--in the presence
of my friend Newall and the rest!"
"My friend Newall!" The words froze up all the warmer feelings in Paul's
breast. It was as though Stanley had taken a knife from his pocket, and
with one cruel stroke severed the last bond of friendship between them,
and had then bound with firmer hand the bonds that bound him to Newall.
"Very well. If that is your last word, I've spoken my last word too."
And Paul turned on his heel, leaving them to draw what conclusions they
liked from his answer.
Newall and his companions set to work removing the feathers which had
descended on him in such a shower, and while they were actively engaged
in it Waterman came leisurely along, late as usual, and drawled out:
"Hallo, Newall! What's wrong? Been moulting?"
Newall disdained to answer. It was some time before he got clear of the
feathers, and then they left unmistakable marks.
"It won't be long before I find out who served me this trick," he said;
"but I don't think we want to go to the shed now over the other matter."
"Newall's had more than enough of the shed already, seems to me,"
drawled Waterman.
"Dry up, Water. You're getting it on the brain," responded Newall
gruffly.
"I think Newall's quite right," said Stanley. "There's no need for any
meeting now. We've found out that it's all true enough about
Percival--that he has met a Beetle, that he has spoken to him, that he
has shaken hands with him that he is on friendly terms with him. He's
admitted it, so it's no use going to the shed."
There was a murmur of assent.
"Well, but you can't leave it at that. Something more must be done, else
Percival will be laughing at us in his sleeve," said Parfitt.
"Why not--why shouldn't we leave it at that?" said Waterman. "What's the
use of worrying over trifles? Percival talks to a Beetle. Why on earth
shouldn't he, if he likes it? Percival shakes hands with a Beetle.
Again, I ask, where's the objection, so long as he doesn't want me to do
it, or any other fellow in the Form. What's the use of making such an
awful smoke?"
"I think we'd better truss him with Waterman," suggested Newall.
"That's better than being feathered anyhow," retorted Waterman coolly.
"Come, what's to be done? We can't stay here all night," said Hasluck.
"Leveson will be up presently with his stop-watch."
"We oughtn't to have a fellow like Percival in the school," Parfitt
commented. "The thing is how to get rid of him. We can't go up to Weevil
and ask that he shall be turned out. And we can't do what we'd like to
do--kick him out."
"No, we can't very well do that," struck in Newall. "There's only one
way."
"What's that?" cried four or five in chorus.
"Make it too warm for the school to hold him."
"No, no; don't do that," came in quick, tense tones from Stanley. "I
wouldn't like to be one to drive Percival from Garside."
"Nor I," added Waterman, with unusual emphasis for him.
"You!" retorted Newall contemptuously; "you don't count. Moncrief does.
What's your objection, Moncrief?"
"Percival was once my friend," came the sad answer.
"Friend!" was the scornful reply.