Ainger's prediction that the house was not likely to get much backing-up
in its new efforts from Felgate, looked likely enough to be fulfilled.
While everyone else was full of athletic and scholastic fervour, he
remained listless and even sulky. Some said it was because Ainger had
proposed the great scheme, and Felgate disdained to play second riddle
even to the captain. Others said it was because he could not win
anything even if he tried. Others darkly hinted that he was one of the
authors of the house's present disgrace; and others whispered that there
was no love lost between Railsford and his fourth prefect. In this last
conjecture the gossips were right. Felgate and the Master of the Shell
had not hit it from the first day of their acquaintance; and within the
last few days an occurrence had taken place which had brought the two
into violent collision.
Railsford on leaving his room one afternoon had been attracted by the
noise of groans and weeping at the far end of the passage. Going in the
direction of the melancholy sounds, he discovered Bateson, the Baby,
with a face as white as a sheet, huddled up all of a heap, the picture
of misery and tribulation.
"What is the matter?" inquired the master.
The sufferer did not hear him at first; but on a repetition of the
question he looked up and groaned.
"Oh, I'm dying! I'm so ill! Oh, what _shall I_ do?"
Railsford was alarmed. The boy looked so white, and trembled all over.
He stooped down to lift him up; but Bateson blubbered.
"Don't touch me, please. Oh, I'm dying!" and rolled over, groaning.
It was no time for parleying. Railsford lifted him up in his arms and
looked at him. There were beads of perspiration on his face, and a
flavour of strong tobacco about his jacket. Bateson had been smoking.
The master carried him downstairs and out into the square, where he set
him on his feet. The cool air instantly revived the unhappy boy, and
what it left undone a short and sharp fit of sickness completed.
"You're better now," said Railsford, when this little ceremony was over.
Bateson was fain to admit it.
"How many more cigars have you got about you?" inquired the master, as
he stalked with the delinquent at his heels into his room, and closed
the door.
The Baby was pale this time with terror, not with tobacco. He
tremblingly turned out his trousers pockets, and produced a big cigar of
which about a quarter had been consumed.
"That's all, really, sir," he faltered.
Railsford took the cigar and sniffed it. In his old college days he
would not like to say he had not smoked as good a one himself.
"Very well," said he, handing it back to the astonished Baby. "Now,
Bateson, sit down on that chair. Here are some matches. You must
finish this cigar to the end before you leave this room."
The wretched Bateson turned green and began to howl.
"Oh no, please sir! Don't say that, sir! It will kill me! Please, Mr
Railsford!"
Railsford quietly lit a match, and handed it to the boy. Bateson fairly
went down on his knees, and grovelled at the master's feet.
"Oh, Mr Railsford! I'll promise never to touch one again--I really
will if you'll only let me off. I should die if you made me. Oh,
please!"
Railsford blew out the match and told the boy to get up.
"I never did it before," whimpered Bateson--it was hardly necessary to
say that. "I didn't know it was any harm. Felgate said it would do me
good. Please, Mr Railsford, may I put it in the fire? I'll never
touch such a beastly thing again."
And as Railsford said nothing to prevent it, he flung the origin of his
evils into the fire.
"Now go to your room," said the master. "And don't be so foolish
again."
Bateson departed, marvelling that he had not been thrashed for his
crime, but pretty effectually cured of any ambition to renew his
narcotic experiments. Railsford, had he been anyone else but Master of
the House, would have enjoyed this little adventure. As it was, he did
not like it, for it could scarcely end where it had. He astonished
Felgate that evening by a visit to his study.
"Felgate," said he, "I wish to know your reason for giving Bateson a
cigar to smoke."
"I give Bateson a cigar, sir?"
"Do you deny it, Felgate?" demanded the master sternly.
"Oh," said the prefect, with a forced laugh, "I believe there was some
joke about a cigar. He had a great fancy to try one."
A scornful look came into Railsford's face as he said, "Do you really
suppose, Felgate, any good is gained by not telling the truth at once?"
"The truth, sir?" said Felgate, firing up as uncandid persons always do
when their veracity is questioned. "I don't understand you, sir."
"You understand me perfectly," said Railsford. "You know that it is
against rules for boys to smoke here."
"I wasn't smoking," said Felgate.
"No. You encouraged another boy to do what you dared not do yourself;
that is hardly creditable in a prefect."
Felgate shifted his ground.
"There's nothing wrong in smoking," said he; "lots of fellows do it."
"I do it myself," said Railsford bluntly, "but what has that to do with
this matter? You, as a monitor, are on your honour to observe the rules
of the school, and see that others observe them. You break them
yourself, and encourage others to break them. Is there nothing wrong in
that?"
Felgate said nothing, and jauntily took up a book.
"Put down that book, and bring me all the cigars or tobacco you have, at
once."
Railsford said this quietly and firmly. He had lost his shy, hesitating
manner with his prefects; and now, when, for the first time, he was in
collision with one of their number, he showed himself a stronger man
than Felgate, at any rate, had given him credit for being. The prefect
looked for a moment as if he would resist. Then he sullenly went to his
locker and produced a case containing four cigars.
"These are all you have?"
Felgate nodded.
"They are confiscated by the rules of the school," said Railsford.
"They will be returned to you after breaking-up. I wish I were able to
return them to you now, and rely on your honour not to repeat your
offence."
"I don't want them back," said Felgate, with a sneer. "You may smoke
them yourself, sir."
He repented of the insult before it had left his lips. Railsford,
however, ignored it, and quietly taking the cigars from the case, took
them away with him, leaving the case on the table. Felgate's impulse
was to follow him and apologise for his ill-bred words. But his evil
genius kept him back; and before bed-time arrived he not only repented
of his repentance, but reproached himself for not saying a great deal
more than he had. Felgate had a wonderful gift of self-delusion. He
knew he had acted wrongly and meanly. "And yet," he argued, "smoking is
no crime, and if the school rules make it one, it doesn't follow that
I'm a sinner if I have a whiff now and then. He admits he smokes
himself. He doesn't call himself a sinner. Easy enough for him to be
high and mighty. One law for him and another for me."
Poor young Bateson had a sorry time of it for the next week. In his
terror at the prospect of having to smoke that awful cigar to the bitter
end, he had scarcely known what he was saying; and it was not until
Felgate charged him with being a sneak that he realised he had said
anything to compromise his senior. Felgate was not one of the vulgar
noisy sort of bullies, but a good deal worse. He made the wretched
Baby's life miserable with all sorts of exquisite torture. He hounded
him on to break rules, and then caught him red-handed, and held over his
head threats of exposure and punishment. He passed the word round the
house that the boy was a tell-tale, and little was the mercy poor
Bateson got either from friend or foe when that became known. Nor did
Felgate, in his revengeful whims, omit the orthodox functions of the
bully. Only he took care to perform such ceremonies in private, for
fear of a mishap. But in these precautions he unluckily reckoned
without his host.
Railsford, after what had happened, was hardly likely to consider
Bateson's lot a happy one, and kept a sharp look-out to prevent any
mischief coming to the luckless Baby on account of his confessions. For
some days, no sign of any such trouble came under the master's notice;
and he was beginning to congratulate himself that Felgate had taken a
proper view of his delinquencies, and was taking the only manly course
of making amends, when the smouldering fires broke out unexpectedly and
fiercely. Master Bateson was one of those practical young gentlemen who
believe in having a shilling's worth for a shilling; and when after a
day or two he heard himself called a sneak from every corner of the
house, it occurred to him, "What's the use of being called a sneak if
I'm not one?" Whereupon he marched off to Railsford, and informed him
that Felgate had twice screwed his arm; once made him catch hold of a
poker at the hot end--the proof whereof he bore on his hand--had once
made him stand in the corner on one foot for the space of an hour by the
clock; and had half a dozen times threatened him that unless he did
something wrong he would accuse him of theft or some other horrible
crime to the doctor. By reason of which ill-usage and threats, he, the
deponent, went in bodily fear of his life.
"Oh, and please, Mr Railsford, be sure and not let him know I told you,
or he'll kill me!"
Railsford had another uncomfortable interview with Felgate after this.
Felgate as usual began by impugning the junior's veracity, but on the
master's proposing to send for the boy, and let him repeat his story
there and then, he sullenly admitted that he might have played practical
jokes on his tender person of the kind suggested. When Railsford said
the matter was a serious one, the prefect smiled deprecatingly, and said
it was not pleasant to him to be spoken to in this manner, and that if
Mr Railsford wished to punish him he would be glad to have it over and
done with. Railsford said that the question in his mind was whether he
would allow Felgate to continue a prefect of the house. Whereupon
Felgate promptly changed colour and dropped his sneer entirely.
"I'm sure," said he, "I had no intention of hurting him. I may have
been a trifle inconsiderate, but I didn't suppose--he didn't complain to
me, so I could hardly know he minded it."
"I can have very little confidence in a prefect who acts as you have
done, Felgate."
"You may depend on me, sir, not to touch him again."
"I want to depend on more than that," said the master. "As a prefect,
you hold a position of influence in the house. If that influence is
badly used--"
"I don't think you will have to complain any more," said Felgate.
"I sincerely hope not--for you may be sure another offence of this kind
could not possibly be passed over. For the present I shall say no more
about this, and shall do my best to treat you with the same confidence
as heretofore. Just now we need all to work together for the good of
our house and the school; and the boys are sure to look to the prefects
to help them. Good-night, Felgate."
The grimace with which the prefect returned the salute, after the door
closed, might have convinced Railsford, had he seen it, that he had done
no good either to himself, the house, or the prefect by his leniency.
As it was, he was destined to make the discovery later on. Felgate, to
all appearances, resumed his old ways in the house. He let young
Bateson alone, and kept to himself his feud with the master. He even
attempted to pretend a languid interest in the new ambitions of his
fellow-prefects, and at Ainger's request entered his name for one of the
events in the sports list. Railsford observed with some relief that he
appeared to recognise the force of the rebuke which had been
administered him, and with characteristic hopefulness was tempted to
look upon the incident as ended.
It was by no means ended. Felgate, to all appearance docile and
penitent, nursed his wrath within him, and kept his eye open, with all
the keenness of a sportsman, to the slightest opening for a revenge. In
a quiet way he continued to do a great deal in the house to thwart the
spirit of enterprise which was at present knitting all factions
together. He sneered in a superior way at the enthusiasm all round him,
and succeeded in making one or two of the fellows a little ashamed of
their own eagerness.
The funds for Railsford's testimonial came in slowly. The result of a
fortnight's hard work was only four shillings and threepence, and to get
even that wretched sum Arthur had made himself temporary enemies all
over the house. He wrote an urgent letter to Daisy, to "shell out"
something, and strove to work on the feelings of his parents to assist
him to do honour to their future son-in-law. Meanwhile he conceived the
wild project of approaching the prefects on the subject. Unluckily for
everybody, he made his first attempt with Felgate.
"A testimonial for Marky?" inquired that worthy. "What for?"
"Well, you know he's been pretty civil since he came, and he's backed us
up in that row about Bickers, you know. We thought we'd get him a ring,
you know. He's spoons on my sister Daisy, and Dig and I thought it
would fetch him if we stuck `Chuckey'--that's the pet name he calls
her--on it. Don't you think it would be a good dodge? He'd be sure to
be pleased if he saw your name on the list of subscribers, Felgate."
"I'm certain of that," said Felgate, laughing, "and if only I'd got any
tin I'd be delighted. By the way, I fancy I did see a sixpence kicking
about somewhere."
"Thanks, awfully. That'll be a stunning lift. He's sure to be extra
civil to you after it."
"Oh, I see. Bribery, is it?" said Felgate, laughing. "And what
particular reason have you for getting Mr Chuckey a testimonial?"
"Ha, ha!" said Arthur, who felt bound to laugh at the senior's joke.
"Jolly good name for him. Oh, some of the fellows think he's backed us
up, you know, about Bickers and all that. Thanks awfully for the
sixpence, Felgate. I'll be sure and stick your name at the top of the
list. I say, when's that trial adjourned to?"
"I don't know. By the way, youngster, what a smart barrister you made
that evening. Where did you pick it all up?"
"Oh, I don't know," said Arthur, feeling rather flattered. "Dig and I
went and heard a chap tried at the Old Bailey once. It was rather slow.
But, I say, do you really think I doubled up Dig well? He was awfully
wild."
"I don't wonder. You did it splendidly. Whatever put all the things
into your head?"
"Oh, I don't know," said Arthur, getting a little "tilted" with all this
flattery from a senior. "It was a notion I had."
"Not half a bad notion," said Felgate, beginning to think the game was
worth following up. "Not one fellow in a dozen would have thought about
that match-box up on the ledge."
"That's just it. It must have been a tall chap to put it up there."
"Of course, unless someone got on a chair."
"I thought of that," responded Arthur grandly; "only there were one or
two other things to come out if I'd had time. I say, do you know when
it's adjourned to?"
"I don't know. I hope not for long. I'd like to hear what else you've
got. I could never make up such things to save my life."
"Perhaps I didn't make them up," said Arthur, who felt that for once in
a way thorough justice was being done to his own cleverness.
"You don't mean you can produce the actual match-box? Why, you ought to
be made Attorney-General or Lord Chancellor."
"Can't I, though, I can!" said Arthur, "and something else too. Suppose
we'd found the door was kept open with a wedge of paper addressed in a
certain handwriting to a certain name--eh? and suppose the sack had the
initials on it of the same fellow that the paper and match-box belonged
to--eh? That would make a pretty hot case for our side, wouldn't it?"
"My word, youngster; you're a sharp one. But I suppose it's all make-
up!"
"Not a bit of it," said Arthur, flushed by his triumph.
"I'll believe it when I see it," said Felgate sceptically.
"I'll show it you now," said Arthur, "if you'll promise to keep it dark.
I'm not making up a bit of it."
"If you aren't, all I can say is--Where are they?"
"Come and see," said Arthur, leading the way to his study.
Dig was out on leave in the village.
"There you are," said Arthur, when he had opened his locker and produced
the precious relics. "There's the match-box. Have you ever seen any
others of the same kind? I have."
"I fancy I saw one once," said Felgate.
"Belonging to a fellow six foot two who could reach up to the ledge?"
Felgate nodded.
"Now look at that paper--a bit of the _Standard_: there's part of the
address. I fancy I know my sister Daisy's fist when I see it. There
you are! That was screwed up to jam open the door to keep it from
sliding-to. Six foot two again. Then there's the sack--precious like
an M and an R those two letters, aren't they? and M R is precious like
the initials of six foot two again. I don't blame him if he did scrag
old Bickers--very good job; and as it happens, it don't hurt our house
very much now we're going to get all the sports; and I'm booked for the
Swift Exhibition--£20 a-year for three years. We mean to back him up,
and that's one reason why we're going to give him the testimonial--
though none of the chaps except Dig knows about these things. I say, be
sure you keep it quiet, Felgate, won't you? I trust you not to tell
anybody a word about it."
"Don't you be afraid of me, youngster," said Felgate. "I'd advise you
to take good care of those things. We'll have some fun with them when
the trial comes on again. Don't go saying too much about it till then.
Did I give you the sixpence? No? There it is. Put it down from `A
Friend.' I must go now, young 'un."
He departed, leaving Arthur to pack up his treasures, amid some
misgivings lest the sixpence in his hand was after all hardly worth the
secret he had bought it with.