WATERMAN DOES A STRANGE THING
For one who had professed himself as beastly hot and fagged, Waterman
did a strange thing after he had left the Forum. He walked with a speed
that was simply amazing for him in the direction of St. Bede's; and what
was still more remarkable, he did not stop until he had reached it. None
of the Beetles were about at the time, but he had not long to wait
before he caught sight of one of the junior form.
"Will you tell Wyndham I wish to see him--as quickly as possible."
The boy stared at him, as Murrell had stared at Paul when he had visited
St. Bede's. It was not till he had repeated his message that he seemed
to comprehend.
"Quick, there isn't much time to lose!" exclaimed Waterman, as though it
were a matter of life and death.
Then the boy hurried off, and a minute or two later Wyndham appeared.
Waterman was unknown to him; so that he was just as much astonished at
seeing him as the smaller boy had been.
"I'm a Gargoyle, you can see that. My name's Waterman, and I've come
here about a fellow named Percival. Spare me the fag of explaining too
much."
"Percival! What about him!" demanded Wyndham, at once interested.
"There's a strong movement on foot to get him expelled from Garside.
It's chiefly over the flag. His best friend, or one who was, has turned
against him; and things are looking as black for Percival as they can
look. I'm afraid that he'll get the worst of it, unless something's
done. I can do nothing; so I've come to you. There's some beastly
mystery about the whole business. Percival won't explain because of
somebody else, and that somebody else is you. I'm certain you won't see
Percival kicked from Garside, if a few words from you will set things
right."
"Kicked from Garside!" exclaimed Wyndham. "Tell me what happened?"
Waterman, feeling that the time for speaking frankly had come, told
Wyndham all that had happened--from the day Wyndham had fought and
conquered Stanley in the sand-pits.
They remained a long time in conversation, and when Waterman at length
returned to Garside, Wyndham returned with him.
In the meantime an interview of a different nature was taking place at
Garside. After the meeting in the Forum, Stanley, feeling very wretched,
had retreated to his dormitory, where in a few minutes he was joined by
his cousin Harry, who was looking just as miserable and uncomfortable.
"I say, Stan, is it right what I hear--that Percival is to be kicked out
of Garside?"
"Well, what if he is? Doesn't he deserve it?"
"I don't know. It's a puzzle. I can't make things out. Look at this
letter. I picked it up while the shindy was going on between you and
Paul in the common room. All the fellows were crowding round you. No one
saw the letter but me. Paul dropped it when he was mopping the blood
from his face. I ought to have given it back, but I saw that it was
father's handwriting; so I sneaked off with it, and read it; and
then--then I knew that I'd done a mean thing and did not like to give it
back to Paul."
He handed Stanley the letter--the letter in which Mr. Moncrief had
answered Paul's inquiries about Zuker and Mr. Weevil, and concluded by
inviting him and Stanley to Redmead at the next vacation.
"What does it all mean?" demanded Stanley, when he had read the letter.
"I can't make out. I thought, perhaps, you might be able to throw light
on it."
"I'm afraid not; but you might leave it with me. I'll think it over."
"All right; but I say, Stan, you must do something to prevent Paul being
chucked from the school. That's going it a bit too strong. I know whose
working that beastly dodge--Newall and his jackal Parfitt."
How could Stanley tell his cousin that it was he--Stanley Moncrief--who
had actually moved that Paul should be expelled from the school? If it
were possible for Stanley to have felt more wretched than he had felt
when Harry came to him, he certainly did so when he was once more alone.
"I know the great friendship there is between you and my nephew
Stanley." Those were the words which stared him in the face. Friendship?
What mockery! How had he proved his friendship? By doing his best to get
Paul expelled from the school. What would his uncle say to him when he
next visited Redmead? It was to show him this letter Paul had doubtless
come to him that day in the common room. And he had met him--with a
blow. It was dastardly.
He must do his best to undo the mischief he had done. Stanley started
up, and went to the door; then he paused, and his heart began to harden
again.
After all, if mischief had been created, Paul was alone responsible. It
was he, and not Stanley, who had acted in a dastardly manner. It was he
who had run away at the sand-pits, and left him to fight his battle with
the beastly Beetle; it was he----
His meditations were cut short by the door being opened, and the
entrance of Waterman.
"Hallo, Moncrief. The very fellow I've been looking for. Horrid bore
looking for fellows. Phew! Close in here, isn't it? You look a bit off.
Come for a little stroll. I've got a fellow who's dying for an
introduction to you."
Waterman slipped an arm through Stanley's, and before Stanley was aware
of it, had led him through the door.
"A fellow--wants to be introduced to me! What fellow?" he demanded.
"Ah, that's it. What fellow? You'd never guess. It's a pleasant little
surprise I've got in store for you. Think of all your rich uncles and
aunts, and people of that sort. Ha, ha! A pleasant surprise, lovely,
delightful. Mustn't spoil it by telling you. Come along."
Waterman's reference to uncles at once reminded Stanley of the uncle
whose letter he had been reading. Could it be that his uncle Moncrief
was paying him a surprise visit? But Waterman did not take him to the
visitors'-room. He took him out of the grounds to some elms which
flourished not far from the school. Here a boy was leaning against one
of the trees. Stanley glanced at him; then turned white. It was Wyndham.
"Told you I had a little surprise," said Waterman. "Wasn't I right? I
like little surprises--don't you? Explanations are an awful bore. I
never like explanations if I can get out of them. Wyndham's got
something to tell you. You'll find him very decent for a Beetle."
And Waterman vanished with a speed which was really marvellous for him,
leaving the two together. The last time they had met face to face they
had met as antagonists, and had fought hard. The memory of that time was
present to both of them, for neither seemed anxious to break the
silence.
"Do I understand that you wish to see me?" Stanley presently asked.
"Yes; it was kind of you to come."
"You needn't compliment me, for I mightn't have come had I known whom I
had to meet," answered Stanley coldly. "Waterman misled me."
"Anyhow, I'm glad you have come, and so will you be, I think, before you
go back. I hope you don't look upon me as an enemy?"
"How else can I look upon you? Have you sent for me to mock me?"
"That's my last wish. I've sent for you to prevent you doing a great
wrong to a friend of yours--Paul Percival."
"A friend of mine!" repeated Stanley, scornfully.
"Well, one who was your friend, and who, I hope, will soon be your
friend again."
"You have more reason to be thankful to him than I have," laughed
Stanley, bitterly. "He ran away from you, and left me with the work he
hadn't the courage to go on with. I know that I didn't come very well
out of it, but I didn't run away."
"No; you did well--much better than I did. I'm sorry, very sorry, I
fought with you. More so, as by fighting you I separated two friends.
Often and often I have prayed to be forgiven. It has all been a ghastly
mistake."
"Mistake? Percival running away--there wasn't much mistake about that,
I'm thinking."
"That is the greatest mistake of all. All of you put it down to fear of
me; but it wasn't--far otherwise. I don't believe that Paul Percival
knows what fear is; and you, who were his friend, ought to have known
that as well as I do."
"So I thought--up till then. After, what could I think? What could any
of us think?"
"Your best of him, instead of your worst. Haven't you ever suspected the
reason why he would not stand up to me?"
"Never! Why?"
"Blind--blind! Do you remember that Percival on one occasion--during
last vacation--helped a gentleman in distress by acting as his
messenger?"
"Quite well, seeing that that gentleman was my father."
"Your father? Yes, that was the gentleman, I believe, for whom Percival
did this kindness. He was set upon by the way by two ruffians, but
managed to escape. Did he ever tell you how he managed it?"
"By hiding down a well."
"Right! But there was a boy who helped him to this queer hiding-place.
That boy was me!"
"You?"
"Yes. On the day Percival came to the sand-pits to meet the champion of
the Beetles, he little knew whom he was to meet. I knew as little whom I
was to meet. He looked upon me as one who had saved his life. How could
he fight me? So he turned away."
"Why didn't he explain?" asked Stanley.
"And give away his secret, or, rather, your father's secret, before that
mob of boys? You--you ask that?"
"But after----"
"After? From what he has told me, he made more than one effort to
explain to you, but you would never listen to him."
It was true enough. Stanley remembered it all--the effort Paul had made
to speak to him immediately after the fight, and later. Everything was
now clear. How noble Paul had been! How he had wronged him! He covered
his face with his hands. He could not speak. Wyndham respected his
silence.
At length he placed his hand upon the bowed shoulder. Stanley did not
shrink from it.
"I'm sorry if I've caused you pain; but it was the only way. Mischief is
being done. You must prevent it from going any further."
"I will--I will! You can trust me," cried Stanley, fervently. "Paul,
Paul, how I've wronged you!"
"I'm glad you see that. You will make it up with him--you will be
friends with him once more?"
"Yes, yes; if he will have my friendship. But I don't deserve it. I
deserve kicking. It was kind of you to take so much trouble."
Wyndham turned on his heel, but as suddenly turned round again.
"Would you mind taking my hand, Moncrief?" he said.
Stanley took it in his, and shook it heartily.
"Thanks; I am very sorry it was raised against you. But we understand
one another better now."
Stanley wiped away the mist that had somehow gathered in his eyes, and
when he could see clear Wyndham had gone.
Then he went in search of Paul, anxious to ask his forgiveness, and
undo, as best he could, the mischief that had been done. But he could
not find him.
He searched everywhere with the same result. And, what was still more
astonishing, his cousin was also missing.
Night came on, and still Paul and Harry were missing from the school.
Mr. Weevil began to get alarmed. It was past ten, and still no news of
the missing boys. What had become of them?