A Mystery Unravelled
Raymonde started, and faced the Principal with flaming eyes.
"I didn't! I didn't!" she protested.
"Then where is it?"
"That I don't know."
"Perhaps you will explain," continued Miss Beasley, watching her
searchingly, "how it is that you were seen at Marlowe post office on
Friday afternoon, and that you bought a postal order for twelve and
sixpence. Oh, Raymonde, you may well blush! Mrs. West was calling only
an hour ago, and told me that she had seen you in the shop. She asked
if I knew about it, or if you had been there without leave. Why did
you get a postal order?"
Raymonde was silent for a moment. Then:
"To send for a fountain pen," she stammered.
"You admit that you visited the post office? Now, I know that you had
finished all your pocket-money. You drew the last of your allowance
from me on the day of your concert."
"I had a pound-note of my own, put away in my handkerchief case. My
uncle gave it to me last holidays."
"If that is so, then where is the money for which you were
treasurer?"
"I don't know."
"Raymonde, I can't believe such a story. You're not telling me the
truth!"
"Indeed, indeed I am!" burst out Raymonde. "Oh! what shall I do? I
can't explain, and I can't say any more. If you'd only wait a few
days!"
"Indeed I shall not wait," returned the headmistress coldly. "The
matter must be investigated at once."
Miss Beasley, greatly upset by such a happening in her school,
consulted her brother as to her best course to pursue. On learning the
circumstances he took a very grave view of the case.
"There's little doubt of the girl's guilt," he declared. "She
evidently yielded to a sudden temptation. She wanted a fountain pen in
time for the examinations, and she borrowed the notes which had been
left in her charge, in order to send for it. Probably she wrote home
for more money, and expected to be able to replace it, and that is the
explanation of her asking for a few days' grace. It seems to me as
clear as daylight, and I should deal with her as she deserves."
"May I ask one question?" said Miss Gibbs, who also had been called to
the conclave. "How is it that Mrs. West affirms that she saw Raymonde
in the post office at six o'clock on Friday, while Veronica and Hermie
declare that at five minutes to six she was sitting at the piano in
the practising-room? It is not possible to reach the village in five
minutes."
Miss Beasley started. This aspect of the matter had not occurred to
her.
"It's very perplexing!" she murmured.
"Raymonde has been troublesome," continued Miss Gibbs, "but I have
always found her scrupulously straight and truthful. Such a lapse as
this seems to me utterly foreign to her character."
"You never know what a girl will do till she's tried!" commented the
Rev. T. W. Beasley. "Better expel her at once, as a warning to the
others."
"Give her a chance!" pleaded Miss Gibbs. "The evidence is really so
unsatisfactory. Wait a day or two, and see if we can sift it!"
"I wish I knew what is best!" vacillated the Principal. "It is so near
the end of the term that it seems a pity to send Raymonde home till
next week, when she would be going in any case. I will call at the
post office, and make enquiries as to the exact time she came there
last Friday. I think I won't decide anything before Saturday."
Miss Beasley stuck to this determination, in spite of her brother's
protests against over-leniency and lack of discipline. She excused
herself on the ground that she did not wish to disturb the
examinations, which were to continue until Friday evening. Meanwhile
Raymonde was in the position of a remanded prisoner at the bar. She
was not allowed to mingle with the rest of the school. She was
conducted, under Mademoiselle's escort, to her place in the
examination hall, but spent the remainder of her time in the
practising-room, which served as a temporary jail. Her meals were sent
up to her, and no girl was allowed, under penalty of expulsion, to
attempt to communicate with her. She was not permitted to go to the
dormitory at night, but slept on a chair-bed in Miss Beasley's
dressing-room.
Naturally the episode was the talk of the school. Its interest
eclipsed even the horror of the examinations. It seemed a mystery
which no one could disentangle. The girls remembered only too well
that Raymonde had been very secretive about how she had obtained the
fountain pen; but, on the other hand, witnesses declared that they had
seen her both at the post office and in the practising-room, when she
certainly could not have been in two places at once.
The Fifth decided that the Reverend T. W. Beasley must be at the
bottom of it. There had never been any disturbances before he came to
the school, and since his arrival everything had been unpleasant,
therefore he must be distinctly responsible for Raymonde's
misfortunes; which was hardly a reasonable conclusion, however loyal
it might be to their friend. The Mystics talked the matter over in
private, and suggested many bold but quite impracticable schemes, such
as subscribing the missing money amongst them, or throwing up a
rope-ladder to the sanctum window for Raymonde to escape by, neither
of which plans would have cleared her character.
Raymonde herself preserved an extraordinary attitude of obstinacy. She
utterly refused to give any more explanations. She did not cry, but
there was a grey misery in her face that was worse than tears. She
walked in and out of the examination hall with her head proudly erect.
Her comrades, with surreptitious sympathy, glanced up as she passed,
but under the lynx eye of their examiner were unable to convey to her
the notes which several of them at least had prepared ready to pass
under the desk.
On Friday afternoon Raymonde was sitting alone in the practising-room,
when the door was unlocked and Veronica entered with a tray.
"I've come to bring your tea," explained the monitress. "I don't
really know whether I'm supposed to be allowed to talk to you, but
Miss Beasley didn't tell me not to, so I shall. Look here, Ray, why
don't you end this wretched business?"
"I only wish I could!" groaned Raymonde.
"But you can. There's something behind it all, I'm sure. Take my
advice, and explain it to Miss Beasley. She'd be quite decent about
it."
Raymonde shook her head sadly and silently.
"Yes, she would, if you'd only confess. I can't understand you, Ray.
You were always a madcap, but you never did anything underhand or
sneaky before; even when you were naughtiest you were quite square and
above-board."
"Thank you!" smiled Raymonde faintly.
"I can't think why you should have changed, and conceal everything!
Ray, I appeal to your best side. You signed our Marlowe Grange League,
and seemed quite enthusiastic about it at the time. Won't you try to
live up to it now?"
Raymonde rose to her feet. In her eyes were two smouldering fires.
"You can't understand!" Her voice was trembling with passion. "It's
exactly because I signed that paper and promised to be faithful to my
friends and to speak the truth, that I'm in all this trouble. No, I
tell you I won't explain! If you think so badly of me that you won't
believe my word, it's no use my speaking to you. Oh! I hate everybody,
and I hate everything! I wish I could go home!"
"Better stay and clear things up!" said Veronica. "If I could do
anything for you, I would."
"Would you?" asked Raymonde with a flash of hope. "Could you possibly
get a letter posted for me?"
Veronica shook her head.
"I daren't!" she said briefly. "Miss Beasley trusted me to bring up
your tea, and I mustn't forget I'm a monitress. I shall have to tell
her that I've been speaking to you. I ought to go now. Good-bye!"
Raymonde drank her tea, but left the bread and butter untouched. She
was not hungry, and her head ached. The whole of her gay, careless
world seemed to have crumbled to ashes. She wondered what her chums
were thinking of her. Did they, like Veronica, mistrust her conduct?
She knew that her behaviour was extraordinary. A sense of utter
desolation swept over her, and, pushing aside the tea things, she
leaned her arms on the table, with her hot face pressed against them.
From this despairing attitude she was aroused by Miss Gibbs, who five
minutes later came to fetch the tray.
"Don't give way, Raymonde!" said the mistress, laying quite a kindly
hand on the girl's shoulder. "There's to be proper enquiry into this
matter to-morrow, and I, for one, trust you'll be able to clear
yourself. Keep your self-control, and be prepared to answer any
questions that are put to you then. Remember there's nothing like
courage and speaking the truth."
[Illustration: "THE DOOR OPENED WITH A FORCIBLE JERK, AND A STRANGER
ENTERED"]
Raymonde raised herself slowly, hesitated for a moment, then fumbled
in her pocket.
"Miss Gibbs," she faltered, "I'd love to tell you everything, but I
can't. I wonder if you'd trust me enough to send off this letter
without opening it, or asking me what I've written in it?"
The mistress took the envelope and examined it. It was addressed to
Miss V. Chalmers, Haversedge Manor, near Byfield. She looked into
Raymonde's eyes as if she would read her very soul. Her pupil bore the
scrutiny without flinching.
"It is a most unwarrantable thing to ask, but I will do it," replied
Miss Gibbs. "I hope my confidence in you will be justified."
At 9.30 on the following morning a trap arrived at the Grange to
convey the Reverend T. W. Beasley and his Gladstone bag to the railway
station. A row of heads peeping from behind the curtains in the upper
windows watched him depart, and exhibited manifestations of intense
satisfaction.
"There! He's actually gone!"
"Only hope he won't miss his train and come back!"
"No, no! He's in heaps of time, thank goodness!"
"Glad he isn't staying the week-end!"
"He's got to preach somewhere in aid of something on Sunday."
"May he never come here again, that's all!"
Perhaps in secret Miss Beasley was equally relieved. She had passed a
strenuous week, and had possibly arrived at the conclusion that she
was, on the whole, capable of arranging her own school to the
satisfaction of herself and the parents of her pupils. She considered
that she understood girls better than a bachelor university don,
however great his literary attainments, could do. The experiment had
not been altogether a success, and need not be repeated. She sighed as
she waved a last good-bye and turned into the house.
An urgent matter, which she had put off until her brother's departure,
must now claim her attention. She ordered the entire Fifth Form,
together with Hermie and Veronica, to repair to the practising-room,
where Raymonde was still kept prisoner.
The girls marched in as quietly as if they were going to church. Their
Principal sat by the table, with two little parallel lines of worry on
her usually smooth forehead, and a grieved look in her grey eyes.
"It is very distressing to me to be obliged to make this enquiry," she
began, "but it is absolutely necessary that we find out what has
become of those missing notes. I put you all on your honour to tell me
what you know. Can any girl throw any light on the matter?"
She looked anxiously and wistfully round the little circle, but nobody
replied. Raymonde sat with downcast eyes, and the old obstinate
expression on her face. The eyes of all the other girls were focused
upon her.
"I am most loath to accuse anyone of such a dreadful thing as taking
money," continued Miss Beasley, "but unless you can offer me some
explanation, Raymonde, I shall be obliged to send you home. The facts
look very black against you. You were treasurer, and cannot produce
the funds; you were seen buying a postal order, and you received a
handsome fountain pen by post."
"If you please, Miss Beasley," interposed Veronica, "how could
Raymonde be buying a postal order when Hermie and I saw her practising
here?"
"It is most puzzling, I allow; but both Mrs. Sims the postmistress,
and Mrs. West, who happened to be buying groceries in the shop, agree
emphatically that it was Raymonde who came to the counter. They say
that she was not in school uniform, but wore a green dress and a small
cap."
"Raymonde has no green dress!"
"But she has admitted to me that she bought the postal order."
The girls looked at their chum in consternation. Raymonde buried her
face in her hands.
At this critical juncture there was the sound of a scrimmage outside
in the passage, and a loud excited voice was heard proclaiming:
"I will go in! I tell you I've come to see Miss Raymonde Armitage, and
it's important. Miss Beasley there? All the better! I want to speak to
her too. Will you kindly move out and let me pass? Oh, very well
then--there!"
The door opened with a forcible jerk, and a stranger entered
unceremoniously. She was a damsel of perhaps fifteen, slim, and very
pretty, with twinkling brown eyes and curly hair and coral cheeks. She
wore an artistic dress of myrtle-green Liberty serge, with a
picturesque muslin collar, and had a chain of Venetian beads round her
white throat.
The school gazed at her spellbound, almost aghast.
"The ghost-girl!" murmured Veronica faintly sinking into a chair.
"Violet!" exclaimed Raymonde in tones of ecstasy.
"Yes, here I am, right enough!" announced the stranger. "Cycled over
directly I read your letter. Stars and stripes! You've got yourself
into a jolly old mess! Hope they haven't tortured you yet! I suppose
they still use the rack and the thumbscrew in this benighted country?
Cheero! We'll pull you through somehow!"
Then, catching the Principal's amazed and outraged expression, she
continued: "Sorry! Are you Miss Beasley? I ought to have introduced
myself. I do apologize! My name's Violet Chalmers, and I'm an
American."
She proclaimed the fact proudly, though her soft r in "American," and
slightly nasal intonation, would have established her nationality
anyway.
"May I ask your errand?" said the head mistress rather stiffly.
"Certainly. I've come to help Raymonde out of a scrape. I never
dreamed she'd be landed in such a queer business as this. I say, Ray,
will you explain, or shall I do the talking?"
"You, please!" entreated Raymonde.
"Well, as I've just said, I'm an American. We crossed the herring-pond
just before the war started, and we've been stuck in this old country
ever since. Before you all came to the Grange we rented the place for
a year, and a time we had of it, too, with rats and bats, and burst
pipes, and no central heating or electric light! Mother went almost
crazy! Well, last Easter, when I was staying at the seaside, I met
Raymonde, and we chummed no end. She told me that her school was
moving in here, and I bet her a big box of Broad Street pop-corns I'd
turn up some time in the house and astonish the girls. I only
bargained that she wasn't to let any of them know beforehand of my
existence. Well, I guess I kept my word. I joined in a game of
hide-and-seek one dark afternoon, and I reckon I passed off as a
first-class ghost. Didn't I chuckle, just! You wonder how I got in
without anybody seeing me? Why, I'd discovered the secret passage that
leads, from a sliding panel in the attic, right under the moat into a
cave inside the wood."
"Joyce Ferrers' passage!" exclaimed the girls.
"The very same. I rode over on my bicycle--we're staying only eight
miles away--left it inside the cave, lighted my lamp, and strolled up
to the attic as easily as you please. There was the whole school
tearing around like mad, so I scuttled round too, and scared you just
some! It was so prime, I guessed I'd try it on again. That was
yesterday week. I'd luck enough to catch Raymonde, and she was a sport
that day too. We changed clothes, and I came downstairs here and did
her practising for her, while she explored the secret passage and did
a little shopping on her own account in the village."
"Then it was you, and not Raymonde, whom we saw sitting at the piano!"
exclaimed Veronica.
Violet nodded.
"Exactly so! I guessed I was going to be found out, and daren't turn
my head when you spoke."
"Did you see the notes put into the drawer?" enquired Miss Beasley.
"No, but I saw them afterwards, lying just on the top of some other
papers. I locked the drawer before I left the room, and put the bunch
of keys inside the pocket of Raymonde's dress, which I had on. I meant
to tell her about it, but I forgot. She was in such a hurry when she
came back, and said she'd be late for prep., so we each scrambled into
our own clothes, and she tore off downstairs, and I went home."
"This, unfortunately, does not bring us any nearer to the solution of
the puzzle--what has become of the notes?" said Miss Beasley.
"Raymonde couldn't have spent them in the village, when she had gone
out before they were put there!" ventured Veronica.
"And I certainly didn't abscond with them!" declared Violet. "Though I
really believe Ray thinks so. Confess you do, old sport!"
Raymonde blushed crimson.
"I thought you'd taken them for a joke," she said in a low voice.
"Is that why you refused to explain?" interposed the Principal
quickly. "You were afraid of getting your friend into trouble?"
"Yes, Miss Beasley."
"But what's become of the wretched notes?" asked Violet; "They must be
somewhere. Have you looked properly through this old bureau? I know
these queer shallow drawers by experience, and things sometimes slip
over the backs of them. Have you had the drawer right out? It's stuck,
has it? Oh, it probably only wants a good pull! Lend me your key! Here
goes!"
Violet exerted all her strength in a mighty tug, and the drawer
tumbled out with a jerk. She put in her hand and felt about in the
space behind. There was a large hole in the back of the bureau, and
her fingers went through it into a cavity in the wall.
"There's something queer here!" she exclaimed, drawing out a round
ball of shreds of paper. "Mrs. Mouse's nursery, if I don't mistake!
Sorry to intrude, but we'll take a peep at the children!"
Very gingerly she pulled aside the torn pieces of paper, and disclosed
to view four little atoms not much bigger than bluebottles.
"Baby mice!" squealed the girls.
"Shame to disturb them, but I've got to examine their cradle. Ah! what
d'you make of this, now? If it isn't a piece of a ten-shilling note,
I'll--I'll swallow the babies!"
"You are most undoubtedly right!" declared Miss Beasley, picking up
the shreds of paper and trying to piece them together. "The mouse must
have taken them out of the drawer to help to build her nest."
"Rather an expensive nursery!" chuckled Violet. "Well, I guess we've
proved who's the thief, anyway!"
"I am extremely obliged to you," said Miss Beasley. "But for you, the
matter might always have remained a mystery."
"And please forgive me for interfering. It was cheek, I know, to turn
up in the attic, but I couldn't resist the secret passage. I think
this old place must be ripping as a school. I want to come next term.
We'd intended to go home to New York in September, but Dad heard this
morning he'd have to stay here another couple of years on business,
so he said he guessed I'd best settle down and learn to be a
Britisher. Would you have me here?"
"That depends on whether your father wishes to send you to me or
not."
"Oh! Dad'll let me do anything I like, so it's as good as settled.
I'll arrive with my boxes in September. Look here, it's cheek again,
but will you please not scold Raymonde for all this affair? It was
mostly my fault."
"Raymonde had no business to change places with you, and go to the
village without leave," said Miss Beasley, eyeing her pupil
reprovingly. "But I think she has been punished enough. She may take
you downstairs now, and ask Cook to give you some cake and a glass of
milk before you cycle home again."
"Thanks ever so! I came without my breakfast. I'm real hungry now.
I'll talk Dad over, and get him to write to you about my coming to
school here. I'm dead nuts on it. Good-bye!"
* * * * *
"Well," murmured Veronica to Hermie, as Violet, with a final squeeze
of the Principal's hand, made her smiling exit; "well, all I can say
is that if this American girl comes next September there'll be lively
doings! Raymonde's bad enough--but to have two madcaps in the school!
I'm thankful I'm leaving!"
"I pity the monitresses!" agreed Hermie.
End of Project Gutenberg's The Madcap of the School, by Angela Brazil