GARRETT IS ANGRY
When Andrew left his cousin on the college walk he was in a very angry
mood. He was quite sure that Henning did not know whether he was
guilty or not, and he was satisfied that he had so guarded his words
in his unexpected interview that Roy would not be able to take
anything he had said as an admission of guilt. As soon as he
discovered the drift of his cousin's remarks he made up his mind that
he would not be betrayed into any speech that afterward might be used
against him.
He had actually started out, as Henning had done, to find his cousin
to talk with him. It will be remembered that he had used a very
conciliatory tone, and spoke to his relative by his Christian name. He
was acting at the moment under one of the few good impulses that came
to him at that period of his life. But all this was most unfortunately
frustrated by Henning's miserable ill-humor of the moment.
Returning to the yard after this stormy interview, he met the two
boys, who, unfortunately, exercised the worst influence over him of
any boys in the school, Smithers and Stockley. Nothing could have been
more inopportune than their presence just when he was sore in spirit
and angry. He was sore and more or less ashamed at the part he had
played in regard to his cousin's reputation. He was not always without
touches of compunction on this subject. He was angry, too, because of
the recent interview. He knew that on account of this very anger he
would very likely do more injury to Henning. His mind was in that
state that made it ripe for any mischief these two worthies might
suggest.
"We have been looking for you, Garrett. Where have you been?" said
Smithers.
"Along the walk."
"Some one in the yard said you had gone hobnobbing with your
respectable relative," remarked Stockley.
"I was talking with him for a while, but not hobnobbing, as you call
it."
"What had he to say?" asked Smithers. There was an ugly, vindictive
leer on Smithers' face which Garrett never liked and which in his
better moments he detested. He really despised him, and all his life
he had never associated with this class of boy. Not being in very good
humor, he said:
"He had no compliments for you, at any rate."
"Didn't expect he had. It's not very likely that one hanging over a
precipice with regard to his reputation, as he is, would have any
compliments for any one. But what did he say, anyway?"
"Oh, nothing!" answered Garrett. "I find that he is more fully aware
of the suspicions against him than I imagined. He is pretty sore under
them, I can tell you."
Smithers' eyes glittered with satisfaction. By a strange perversion he
was pleased that Henning was suffering. Why? The answer is difficult.
Because, perhaps, Henning had done him many a good turn. In time of
necessity he was glad enough to receive assistance. When better times
came for him, he promptly forgot. He lacked gratitude. He was only one
more exemplification of the old adage: "If you want to lose a friend,
lend him money, and if you want to gain an enemy put some one under
great obligations to you."
"Sore, is he? I can make him sorer still. Have you heard what has been
found?" asked Smithers, looking first at Stockley and then at Garrett.
Had the latter been a little more observant he would have noticed
Smithers' eyelids twitch in an unmistakably nervous way, and his
fingers open and close spasmodically.
"No, I have not. Not the stolen money, I suppose," laughed Garrett
mirthlessly.
"Not much," said Smithers, "that's not likely to be found. I guess
that's gone for good."
"What then?"
"A piece of writing!"
"Whose?"
"Henning's."
"Of what nature? What has it to do with the suspicion in the yard?"
"It has a good deal to do with it."
"Well, out with it, if you have anything to tell. I'm tired of this
dallying. What's up?"
Garrett, still out of temper, was quite testy. It can be seen that he
had very little respect for these boys. He made no pretense of
choosing his words with them.
Smithers, nothing daunted by the surly manner in which he had been
addressed, after more or less fumbling, drew from the inside pocket of
his coat a crumpled sheet of letter-paper. It bore the college printed
address on the top, and was dated December 23.
"Whose writing is that, do you think?" asked Smithers.
"I don't know. Let me look at it. Yes, I do though! It's my cousin's!
What does he say?"
He straightened out the creases and read the letter hurriedly.
"Phew! by all that's great, this is a stunner!" said Garrett.
The other two boys exchanged glances of satisfaction. Smithers'
eyelids twitched more than ever.
"Where did you get this from?"
"No matter where it came from," answered Stockley; "it's just what we
want to settle this business. It has been hanging fire long enough. It
ought to be settled for everybody's sake. I think this will do it."
Garrett did not like his cousin, and hitherto had not been above doing
him a bad turn occasionally. He was recognized, more or less, as the
mouthpiece of those opposed to Roy. To do Andrew justice it must be
admitted that he never quite realized what injury he was doing his
cousin. A full realization of the injustice of his course was not to
come to him for a long time, but now, since this interview, he was
very uneasy. If Henning was determined to act on the offensive, he
must prepare to defend himself. Here was a piece of paper, luckily
thrown in his way, with which he could divert suspicion from himself
should his cousin be goaded into retaliating. He knew enough of Roy's
character to realize that he would have his hands full, if that
individual decided to take the initiative in the tangle.
But what of the "find" of Smithers? What important piece of
information did it contain which was evidently so detrimental to
Henning as to draw the sudden exclamation of surprise from Garrett's
lips? It was not a complete letter, but merely a first draft. It ran
as follows: "My dear friend."
The word "friend" had been marked through and "chum" inserted
instead.
"Your letter rec'd last Monday. Sorry to say that ... have no money
now ... so can't possibly do the thing you wish ... awfully sorry ...
feel like stealing the money rather than letting this thing go undone.
However, wait till the end of Christmas week. It won't be too late
then. Something's going to happen before that! Then we can go into
partnership--at least for the merit of the thing. Keep everything
dark. Don't say a single word to anybody about it. Mind now, chum,
everything must be kept a secret, or--smash. Yours, Roy H."
The missive, or first copy of one, looked mysterious enough. To these
boys into whose possession it had by some means fallen, it had a
decidedly dark-lantern appearance. To their minds, in view of what had
happened near the end of the Christmas week, the words seemed to have
a peculiarly sinister meaning in proportion to each one's prejudice.
Was the sketch of the proposed letter genuine? There was no doubt as
to that in Garrett's mind. Everybody knew Henning's writing. Without
hesitation Garrett pronounced it genuine.
But what could the letter mean? Had his cousin deliberately planned
the robbery? Smithers believed, or said he believed, this to be the
case. Garrett knew better. In spite of this letter he knew that was
too absurd a notion to entertain. He was, nevertheless, shrewd enough
to see the value of this crumpled note as a weapon of defense for
himself.
He deliberately put it into his pocket.
"Hold on there, Garrett!" exclaimed Smithers, "that note belongs to
me."
"Excuse me," replied Andrew, "but I believe it belongs strictly to Roy
Henning."
"No, it doesn't. It's my property. I risked--I mean I discovered it,
and it's mine."
"I beg your pardon, but for the present you may consider it my
property. There may be further risk, you know, for you. It will be
quite safe, I assure you, in my keeping."
"Well, I'll be hanged!" exclaimed the dismayed Smithers.
"Shouldn't wonder in the least--some day," replied Garret
imperturbably.
"But it's mine!"
"Beg to differ with you. It never was yours. It is mine now, at least
for a time. I haven't decided yet what to do with it--whether to tear
it up, or restore it to its rightful owner."
He intended to do neither one nor the other. He had formed his plan,
but he had not the slightest intention of taking either Stockley or
Smithers into his confidence. The latter was very angry at the loss of
the letter, but he knew very well that he could not get it back until
Garrett pleased to return it. His ill-humor was not lessened when
Garrett said as he walked away:
"By the way, I should recommend you to say nothing about this
so-called 'find' of yours, you fellows, for I am strongly under the
impression that it is bogus, and besides, it might be difficult to
convince people you came by it honestly."
Smithers' eyelids exhibited that nervous twitching more rapidly than
ever.