I clung on to Langrish, who was next to me, in mute despair, and
Langrish in turn embraced Trimble.
"Those," gasped the voice of Coxhead, "were the--ginger--beer--bottles.
What--shall--we--do?"
"Cut to bed sharp!" said the resolute though quavering voice of
Warminster, "and lie low."
"There won't be much of him left," whispered Trimble, "that's one good
thing," as we huddled off our clothes in the dark in the dormitory.
It was a gleam of comfort, certainly. Effigies of that kind, when they
do go off, leave few marks of identity behind them.
"Who let it off?" I ventured to ask. "No one knew about it except us."
"Look out! There's somebody coming!"
It was Mr Sharpe, who looked in, candle in hand, to see if any one had
been disturbed by the noise. But every one was sleeping peacefully,
blissfully unconscious that anything had happened.
"Narrow shave that," said Langrish, when the master had retired.
"I say," said Trimble. "I wonder if Tempest--"
Here he pulled up, but a muffled whistle of dismay took up his meaning.
"If he did, he must have found it out by himself. I never said a word
to him," said I.
"You were bound to make a mess of it," said Coxhead. "Why ever couldn't
you stick the thing where nobody could find it?"
"So I did; it was leaning up against the cellar wall; no one could
possibly get at it."
"Why not? the area door's open."
"No, it ain't. I locked it, and hid the key," said I, triumphantly,
"for fear of accident, under the scraper."
"Good old Sarah--that's lucky. But what about the grating in the
gymnasium floor? Couldn't you twig it through that?"
"Not unless you were looking for it. And if you could, you couldn't get
at it."
"Well," said Trimble, rather brutally, "I hope it's all right, for your
sake. Fellows who keep guys must take the consequences. It would have
been much safer if you'd kept it under your bed."
"You may keep the next," growled I. "I've done with it."
Considering the probable condition of the luckless effigy at that
moment, nobody was inclined to contradict me; and the Philosophers
relapsed into gloomy silence, and eventually fell asleep.
I was probably the last to reach that blissful stage. For hours I lay
awake, a prey to the most dismal reflections. To do myself justice, my
own peril afflicted me at the time--perhaps because I did not realise
it--less than Tempest's. Whether he had blown up the guy or not, things
would be sure to look black against him, and my recollection of the
episode of Hector's death told me he would come out of it badly. How,
if he had done it, he had contrived to get at the explosives, I could
not fathom. I was sure, even with his grudge against Jarman, he was not
the sort of fellow to take a revenge that was either mean or dastardly;
and yet--and yet--and yet--
When with one accord we woke next morning it needed no special
intimation to be aware that something had happened at Low Heath.
Masters and school attendants were talking in groups in the quadrangle.
Boys were flitting across in the direction of the gymnasium; and seniors
in twos and threes were deferring their morning dip and hovering about
in serious confabulation.
"Something up?" said Trimble, with ill-concealed artlessness. "I wonder
what it is?"
"Looks like a row of some sort," said Langrish. "What are all the chaps
going across to the gym. for, I wonder?"
"Let's go and see," said Coxhead.
"We needn't all go together," said Warminster, significantly. So one by
one, casually, and at studied distances from our comrades, the
Philosophers dropped into the crowd and made for the scene of last
night's accident.
I felt terribly nervous. Suppose some one had been killed, or suppose
the gymnasium had been burnt, and suspicion fell on any one, what a fix
it would be!
In my distress I met Dicky Brown, full of news.
"Hullo, Jones, I say, have you heard? Some chap's been trying to blow
up the gym. in the night, and there's a row and a half on. The front
door is smashed, and the floor all knocked to bits. Come and have a
look."
"Any one killed or hurt?"
"I've not heard. Didn't you hear the noise?"
"Yes. Our chaps heard a row in the night."
"We could hear it at our place," said Brown. "They say the chap's known
who did it, too."
"Who?"
"How do I know? Some chap who's been extra drilled, most likely."
"There's plenty of them," suggested I.
"Well, yes. They say a lot of gunpowder had been stowed in the lumber
room just under the door. There, do you see?"
We had reached the scene of the tragedy, and I was able to judge of the
mischief which had been done. The door was broken, but whether by the
explosion or ordinary violence it was hard to say. The floor and
grating over the lumber room were broken away, and one or two windows
were smashed. That was all. My first feeling was one of relief that
the damage was so slight. I had pictured the whole building a wreck,
and a row of mangled remains on stretchers all round. Compared with
that, our poor guy had really made a very slight disturbance. Of him I
was thankful to be able to observe no trace, except one tan boot and a
fragment of a ginger-beer bottle in the area. That indeed was bad
enough, but, I argued, the lumber room was full of old cast-off shoes
and bottles, and these would probably be set down as fragments of the
rubbish displaced by the explosion.
Brown, however, and others to whom I spoke, failed to share my view of
the slightness of the damage.
"If the fellow's found, it will be a case of the police court for him."
The blood left my face as I heard the awful words. It had never
occurred to me yet that the matter was one of more than school concern.
Visions of penal servitude and a broken-hearted mother swam before my
eyes. Oh, why had I ever left the tranquil seclusion of Fallowfield for
this awful place?
As soon as possible I edged quietly out of the crowd, and made my way
dismally back to Sharpe's, where I met not a few of our fellows, all
eager for news.
I was too sick to give them much information, and sent them to inspect
for themselves while I made my way dismally to Tempest's room.
He was up, reading.
"Hullo, youngster," said he, "what's all the row about? What was that
noise in the quad, last night? were some of your lot fooling about with
fireworks?"
"Don't you know?" gasped I, fairly taken aback with the question. "Why,
some one's been trying to blow up the gymnasium!"
"What!" he exclaimed. "Why, _I_ was there, not long before the noise.
Who's done it?"
"That's what nobody knows. I'm afraid there'll be a row about it."
"Any fool could tell that," said Tempest, with troubled face.
"I wish you hadn't been there," said I; "they may think it was you."
"Let them," said he, with a laugh which was anything but merry. I was
longing to hear what had happened to him last night, but he did not
volunteer any information, and I did not care to question him.
Horribly uneasy, I was about to seek the questionable consolations of my
comrades, when the school messenger entered with a long face.
"Master Tempest, the head master wants to see you at once."
"All right," said Tempest.
"He said I was to bring you."
"If you want to carry me, you may," said Tempest, with a short laugh;
"if not, wait a moment and I'll come. Jones, tell Pridgin I want to
speak to him--wait, I'll go to him."
The school messenger looked as if he felt it his duty to take the senior
at his word. Had Tempest been a smaller boy, he might have done so. As
it was, he repeated,--
"At once, please, sir."
Tempest took no notice, but went across the passage to his friend's
room.
When he reappeared in a minute or two, Pridgin was with him, and without
taking further notice of the messenger's presence the two walked arm-in-
arm out of the house and across the quadrangle.
The news of the summons spread like wildfire. The Philosophers, when in
due time they mustered in the faggery after their inspection of the
scene of the outrage, were not slow in taking in the seriousness of the
situation.
"Of course he's suspected. It's all your fault, you ass, for being such
a muff and letting Jarman catch you. You can't do a thing without
making a mess of it."
"How could I help it?" I pleaded.
"Couldn't you have fetched his blazer for him without running into that
cad's way?"
"What I can't make out," said Langrish, "is how Tempest knew about the
guy and was able to let it off."
"I don't believe he did," said I. "I'm sure he didn't."
"You'd believe anything. Things like that don't go off by themselves,
do they?"
I was bound to admit they did not, but persisted in my belief that
Tempest had nothing to do with it.
But the logic of the Philosophers was irresistible.
"Didn't we see him go over and come back? and didn't it blow up the
moment he got into the house?" said Trimble.
"And didn't he go over on purpose to have it out with Jarman?" said
Coxhead.
"And hadn't he got his blazer with him when he came back?--so he must
have been in the gym.," said Warminster.
"Who else was likely to do it?" said Langrish. "I suppose you'll try to
make out Jarman tried to blow himself up?"
"I never said so. All I said was that I'm positive Tempest never did
it."
"And all we say is that you're about as big an ass as you look, and
that's saving a good deal," chimed in the Philosophers.
How long the wrangle might have gone on I cannot say. For just then the
school messenger appeared on the scene once more--this time in quest of
me.
"Young Master Jones iv., you're to go to the head master at once."
"What for?" said I, feeling a cold shudder go down my spine.
"Ask a policeman," replied the ribald official. "You've had a short
time and a merry one, my young gentleman; but it's over at last."
"But I never--"
"Sharp's the word!" interrupted he.
"You'd better cut," said the Philosophers. "We'll give you a lift if we
can."
It was poor consolation, but such as it was I valued it. Never a criminal
walked to the gallows with as heavy a heart as I followed the school
messenger across the quadrangle and past the fated gymnasium to the head
master's study.
There I found four people waiting to see me. Tempest looking very
sullen, the head master looking very grave, Mr Jarman looking very
vicious, and a policeman looking very cheerful.