UNEXPECTED TIDINGS
As soon as Paul had accomplished his purpose, and seen the flag waving
in its old place on the turret, he went to the room of Mr. Weevil. He
knew well enough that inquiries would be made respecting the return of
the flag, and therefore he took the straightforward course of going at
once to headquarters.
"Come in!" came the voice of the master in response to the knock on his
door.
He was pacing to and fro the room--the same room in which Paul had seen
him on that never-to-be-forgotten night with Zuker. He stopped as Paul
entered, and regarded him in his usual manner--through half-closed eyes.
"You, Percival! What is it you want with me?" came the sharp answer.
"I only came to tell you that the flag is back in its old place, sir."
"I know--I know! And you brought it back, I understand? I meant
inquiring into the matter. I'm glad you've forestalled me. You want to
explain--eh? That's what you've come for--eh?"
"That's what I've come for, sir," answered Paul, astonished that he
should have gained such speedy information as to what had happened.
Sometimes, indeed, it seemed as though those half-closed eyes not only
saw further than other eyes, but that they had the faculty of double
sight as well.
"And yet I don't know whether I can call it an explanation, for there
are things which cannot be explained."
"Not explained? How do you mean, sir?" came the sharp answer.
"I received the flag back from a friend of mine--a proved friend--on the
solemn promise that I would not make use of the information he had given
me to get any of the fellows who had taken it into a scrape."
"Why did you make that promise?"
"Because it was the only way of getting the flag back."
"And that is all the information you can give me?"
"That is all, sir."
"And you call it an explanation? Really, sir, it is one of the most
extraordinary I have ever heard! And you expect me to accept it?"
demanded the master, facing Paul, and looking him fully in the eyes.
"I trust so, sir, because I can give no other--have no other to give."
Mr. Weevil did not at once answer, but took two or three more turns
across the room.
"I believe you to be a lad of honour, Percival," he said, stopping once
more, "and a lad of sense. Let me put it to you, then, as a lad of
honour and of sense. Supposing I am perfectly ready to accept your
statement, do you really believe that the school will be as ready to
accept it?"
"The school might be curious to know more, sir, but if you accept my
explanation as sufficient, I don't see why anybody should question it."
"Yes, yes; that might be well enough. But there have been one or two
rather mysterious things that have happened within the last month or two
which have never been cleared up. There was the breaking open of my
desk, for instance, and the torn pages in the Black Book."
"I could mention a still greater mystery that wants clearing up,"
thought Paul, as his mind went back to the afternoon when he had seen
the master enter the strange hiding-place of Zuker.
"The culprit in that case has never been found out. It still remains a
mystery," continued Mr. Weevil. "Then came the mysterious disappearance
of the flag, and its equally mysterious return. The school will be
getting suspicious--uneasy. If no better explanation is forthcoming
than that you have given me, suspicion will grow--I am certain of it."
Paul saw that the master was right. Still, he had no intention of giving
up his secret.
"I have given my word, sir," he answered firmly. "You would not have me
break it?"
"You said that you have received the flag from a friend, if my memory
serves me--a proved friend?"
"Yes, sir."
"May I ask in what way his friendship has been proved?"
How could Paul answer him? How could he tell the man before him in what
way Wyndham had proved his friendship to him? Suddenly, it flashed into
Paul's mind that the bold course was the best.
"When I was home last vacation, sir, a gentleman had an accident with
his horse. He asked me to take a packet for him to Mr. Moncrief, the
father of Moncrief minor. I took the packet. On the way I was set on by
two ruffians. I got away from them, but they followed me, and would have
got the packet from me had it not been for the friend I speak of."
Mr. Weevil's eyes began closing as Paul was speaking. When he finished
they opened again.
"What did this friend do?"
"Hid me till the ruffians had gone."
"Good! And that enabled you to get the packet to Mr. Moncrief?"
"Yes, sir."
"Excellent! But, do you know, Percival, this really seems a stranger
story than the other."
"Perhaps so, sir; but I can prove every word of it, if you like. By your
permission, I will send for Mr. Moncrief----"
"No, no; that is altogether unnecessary!" said the master quickly.
"Strange though the story is, I accept every word of it--every word. The
friend you speak of was indeed a friend in need. You must keep your word
to him--it would be an act of baseness to break it. I did not know the
facts, you see. You may leave the rest to me."
Paul's heart bounded joyfully. The bold course had been the right one.
It had succeeded where a weaker course might have utterly failed.
"Thank you, sir. It is very kind of you."
Paul was about to withdraw, when the master called him back.
"Let me see, there was a letter came for you while you were out. There
it is in the rack."
Paul took the letter from the rack as Mr. Weevil turned to his books.
Again his heart gave a great bound. One glance at it told him who it was
from. It was the letter he had been so anxiously awaiting from Mr.
Walter Moncrief.
"It _is_ for you, isn't it?" Mr. Weevil asked, glancing into the boy's
eager face.
"Yes, sir," answered Paul, wondering whether the master suspected who it
was from or had any knowledge of its contents. He inspected the envelope
as he hastened to his dormitory. No; it did not seem to have been
tampered with. Mr. Weevil could not have seen its contents. On reaching
his room, he tore open the envelope, and read:
"My dear Paul,--I received your first letter, but was away from
home at the time, so was unable to answer it. Pardon my delay. You
need not worry about the man Zuker. I am kept informed as to his
movements.
"With regard to your master Mr. Weevil, I quite agree with you--I
cannot think that he has anything to do with a traitor to his
country, though appearances may be against him. At any rate, till
anything is distinctly proved, give him the respect due to a
scholar and a gentleman.
"To turn to other and more agreeable matters. I trust that Harry is
getting on well. He seems too busy to write much. And when he does
write, it's nothing but 'Plunger, Plunger, Plunger,' from start to
finish. You would fancy there was nobody else but Plunger in
existence. Tell him that when he can get away from Plunger we shall
be very glad to hear from him again.
"I know the great friendship there is between you and my nephew
Stanley. I only hope that Harry will find as good and worthy a
friend. Tell Stanley that he has to come here during next vacation,
and bring you with him. I think we shall be able to provide you
with plenty of amusement, though I can't promise you it will be of
so exciting a kind as you had last vacation.--Your sincere friend,
"WALTER MONCRIEF."
A great feeling of relief came over Paul when he read the first part of
this letter. There was nothing to worry about Zuker. Mr. Moncrief was
kept informed of his movements; and yet, and yet----If Mr. Moncrief knew
of his movements, why, in the name of wonder, did he not arrest him? But
perhaps there were reasons against it. In any case, the answer was
satisfactory, and he felt relieved.
It was with far different feelings he read the last part of the letter.
"I know the great friendship existing between you and Stanley," Paul
read again, with sorrow. "I only hope that Harry will find as good a
friend."
And the message? What was he to do with the message Mr. Moncrief had
asked him to deliver to Stanley? He turned the letter over and over in
his hand. He must deliver it to him somehow.
"Stanley must answer it; not I. I will give it to his cousin."
As he passed along the corridor a deep groan came from one of the
dormitories. It sounded like some one in pain. He stopped and listened.
A few seconds more, and the groaning was repeated. He opened the door
softly and looked in. The dormitory was to all appearances empty.
"Strange! My ears must have deceived me," thought Paul.
He was on the point of retreating when the sound came again to his ears.
"No; I wasn't mistaken," he said, stepping softly into the room and
closing the door after him. "It was somebody, but who?"
He looked round, puzzled. There was no one visible. He stood perfectly
still and waited. A few seconds more, and the groaning was repeated. But
this time he detected whence it came. It came from under one of the
cubicles. He crossed to it and looked underneath. A boy was huddled up
on the floor. One glance was sufficient to tell him who it was--it was
Master Plunger.
"Here. Plunger, come out of that!"
Plunger did not attempt to move.
"Come out of that, I tell you!"
As Plunger still refused to move, Paul took him by the leg and hauled
him out.
Such a woebegone Plunger it was! His wiry thatch was more dishevelled
than usual. The eyebrows seemed to have made a more desperate attempt
than ever to invade the territory of the forehead. The self-assurance
which had been the distinguishing mark of Plunger's manner had gone.
"Le' me go--le' me go!" he groaned. "I want to die!"
"Die!" Paul could scarcely refrain from laughing. "There's not much of
that about you! You're not one of those whom 'the gods love,' so you'll
never die young, Plunger. What have you been up to? I believe you've
been smoking."
This accusation brought Plunger to a sitting posture on the bed.
"I haven't been smoking--I haven't been smoking! It's the flag!"
"What about the flag?"
"I angled for it, and thought I'd hooked it; but I hadn't. Some other
fellow had; so instead of hooking the flag I got a beastly swishing.
That's not all. I shall get roasted all round, and, of course, the Two
J.'s will be poking fun at me in the 'Gargoyle Record.' I'd like to know
who the fellow was who got the flag. Have you heard?"
"I have heard, but I haven't time to go into it just now. Your friend
Moncrief minor can tell you all about it. Cheer up, Plunger, and don't
talk any more about dying."
Paul hurried off, leaving Plunger to digest the scanty information he
had given him as best he could.
"Now for Stan!" he said, as he made his way to the common room, but
little dreaming what was there in store for him.