The Magic Lantern
When Marjorie took an idea into her head it generally for the time
filled the whole of her mental horizon. She had never liked Miss Norton,
and she now mistrusted her. The evidence that she had to go upon was
certainly very slight, but, as Marjorie argued, "Straws show how the
wind blows", and anyone capable of sympathizing with Germans might also
be capable of assisting them. She felt somewhat in the position of
Hamlet, doubting whether she had really surprised a dark secret or not,
and anxious for more circumstantial evidence before she told others of
her suspicions. She strictly charged Dona not to mention meeting Miss
Norton in the little hamlet of Sandside, which Dona readily promised.
She was not imaginative, and was at present far more interested in rows
of cauliflowers or specimens of seaweeds than in problematical German
spies.
Marjorie, with several detective stories fresh in her memory, determined
to go to work craftily. She set little traps for Miss Norton. She would
casually ask her questions about Germany, or about prisoners of war, to
judge by her answers where her sympathies lay. The mistress, however,
was evidently on her guard, and replied in terms of caution. One thing
Marjorie learned which she considered might be a suspicious
circumstance. Miss Norton received many letters from abroad. She had
given foreign stamps to Rose Butler, who had seen her tear them off
envelopes marked "Opened by the censor". The stamps were from Egypt,
Malta, Switzerland, Spain, Holland, and Buenos Ayres, a strange variety
of places in which to have correspondents, so thought Marjorie.
"Of course they're opened by the censor, but who knows if there isn't a
secret cipher under the guise of an ordinary letter? They may have all
kinds of treasonable secrets in them. Norty might get information and
send it to those friends in foreign countries, and they would telegraph
it in code through a neutral country to Berlin."
She ascertained through one of the prefects that Miss Norton intended to
spend her holidays in the Isle of Wight. This again seemed
extraordinary, for the teacher notoriously suffered greatly from the
heat in summer, and yearned for a bracing climate such as that of
Scotland; further, she was nervous about air raids, so that the south
coast would surely be a very unsuitable spot to select for one who
wished to take a restful vacation. Patricia, whose parents had been on a
visit to Whitecliffe, and had taken her out on a Saturday afternoon,
reported that at the hotel some foreigners--presumably Belgians--were
staying, and that she had noticed Miss Norton drinking coffee with them
in the lounge.
"Are you sure they were Belgians?" asked Marjorie with assumed
carelessness.
"Why, the people in the hotel said so."
"What were they like?"
"Oh, fair and rather fat! One of them was a Madame Moeller. She played
the piano beautifully; everybody came flocking into the lounge to listen
to her."
"Moeller doesn't sound like a French name."
"Well, I said they were Belgians."
"It has rather a German smack about it. What language were they speaking
to each other?"
"Something I couldn't understand. Not French, certainly."
"Was it German?"
"I don't know any German, so I can't tell. It might have been Flemish."
Marjorie several times felt tempted to confide her suspicions to
Winifrede, but her courage never rose to the required point. She had an
instinct that the head girl would pooh-pooh the whole matter, and either
call her a ridiculous child, or be rather angry with her for harbouring
such ideas about her house mistress. Winifrede liked to lead, and was
never very ready to adopt other people's opinions; it was improbable
that she would listen readily to the views of an Intermediate, even of
one whom she was patronizing. A head girl is somewhat in the position of
the lion in AEsop's fables: it is unwise to offend her. Knowing
Winifrede's disposition, Marjorie dared not risk a breach of the very
desirable intimacy which at present existed between them. She yearned,
however, for a confidante. The burden of her suspicions was heavy to
bear alone, and she felt that sometimes two heads were better than one.
Except on exeat days she saw little of Dona, and discussing matters with
that rather stolid little person was not a very exhilarating
performance. In her dilemma she turned to Chrissie. The two had shared
the secret of the Observatory window, and Chrissie, one of the most
enthusiastic members of their patriotic society, would surely understand
and sympathize where Winifrede might laugh or scold. Marjorie felt that
she had lately rather neglected her chum. Their squabbles had caused
frequent coolnesses, and each had been going her own way. She now made
an opportunity to walk with Chrissie down the dingle, and confided to
her the whole story of her doubts. Her chum listened very attentively.
"It looks queer!" she commented. "Yes, more than queer! I always set
Miss Norton down as a pro-German. Those foreign letters ought to be
investigated. I wish I could get hold of some of them. It's our duty to
look after this, Marjorie. You're patriotic? Well, so am I. We may be
able to render a great service to our country if we can track down a
spy. We'll set all our energies to work."
"What are we going to do?" asked Marjorie, much impressed.
"Leave it to me, and I'll think out a plan of campaign. These things
are a battle of brains. She's clever, and we've got to outwit her. Who
were those foreigners she was talking to in the hotel, I should like to
know?"
"That was just what I thought."
"For a beginning we must try to draw her out. Oh, don't ask her
questions about her German sympathies, that's too clumsy! She'd see
through that in a moment. Let's work the conversation round to military
matters and munitions, and get the girls to tell all they've heard of
news from the front, and watch whether Norty isn't just snapping it up."
"Wouldn't that be letting her get to know too much?"
"Well, one's obliged to risk something. If you're over-cautious you
never get anything done."
"Yes, I suppose you're right. We'll try on Sunday evening after supper.
She always comes into the sitting-room for a chat with us then."
Chrissie seemed to have taken up the matter with the greatest keenness.
She was evidently in dead earnest about it. Marjorie was agreeably
surprised, and on the strength of this mutual confidence her old
affection for her chum revived. Once more they went about the school arm
in arm, sat next to each other at tea, and wrote each other private
little notes. St. Elgiva's smiled again, but the girls by this time were
accustomed to Marjorie's very impulsive and rather erratic ways, and did
not take her infatuations too seriously.
"Quarrelled with Winifrede?" enquired Patricia humorously. "I thought
you were worshipping at her shrine at present."
"Marjorie is a pagan," laughed Rose Butler. "She bows down to many
idols."
"I should call Winifrede a more desirable goddess than Chrissie," added
Irene.
"Go on, tease me as much as you like!" declared Marjorie. "You're only
jealous."
"Jealous! Jealous of Chrissie Lang! Great Minerva!" ejaculated Irene
eloquently.
It was about two days after this that Marjorie, passing down the
corridor from Dormitory No. 9, came suddenly upon Chrissie issuing out
of Miss Norton's bedroom. Marjorie stopped in supreme amazement.
Mistresses' rooms were sacred at Brackenfield, unless by special
invitation. Miss Norton was not disposed to intimacy, and it was not in
the knowledge of St. Elgiva's that she had admitted any girl into her
private sanctum.
"Did Norty send for you there?" questioned Marjorie in a whisper.
"Sh, sh!" replied Chrissie. "Come back with me into the dormitory."
She drew her friend inside her cubicle, looked round the room to see
that they were alone, then patted her pocket and smiled.
"I've got them!" she triumphed.
"Got what?"
"Norty's foreign letters, or some of them at any rate."
"Chris! You never went into her room and took them?"
"That's exactly what I did, old sport! I'm going to look them over, and
put them back before she finds out."
Marjorie gasped.
"But look here! It doesn't seem quite--straight, somehow."
"Can't be helped in the circumstances," replied Chrissie laconically.
"We've got to outwit her somehow. It's a case of 'Greek meets Greek'.
How else are we to find out anything?"
"I don't know."
The idea of entering a teacher's bedroom and taking and reading her
private correspondence was intensely repugnant to Marjorie. Her face
betrayed her feeling.
"You'd never do on secret service," said Chrissie, shaking her head. "I
thought you were patriotic enough to dare anything for the sake of your
country. Go downstairs if you don't want to see these letters. I'll read
them by myself."
"I wish you'd put them back at once," urged Marjorie.
"Not till I know what's in them. Here comes Betty! I'm going to scoot.
Ta-ta!"
Marjorie followed Chrissie downstairs, but did not join her in the
garden. She was not happy about this latest development of affairs. It
was one thing to watch Miss Norton by legitimate methods, and quite
another to try underhand ways. She wondered whether the service of her
country really demanded such a sacrifice of honour. For a moment she
felt desperately tempted to run to Winifrede's study, explain the whole
situation, and ask her opinion, but she remembered that Winifrede would
be writing her weekly essay and would hardly welcome a visitor, or have
time to listen to the rather lengthy story which she must pour out.
After all, it was an affair that her own conscience must decide. She
purposely avoided Chrissie all the evening, while she thought it over.
Having slept upon the question, she came to a decision.
"Chris," she said, catching her chum privately after breakfast, "I vote
we don't do any more sneaking tricks."
"Sneaking?" Chrissie's eyebrows went up high.
"Yes, you know what I mean. We'll keep a look-out on Norty, but no more
taking of letters, please."
Chrissie gazed at her chum with rather an inscrutable expression.
"Right oh! Just as you like. We'll shelve that part of the information
bureau and work on other lines. I'm quite agreeable."
That particular day happened to be Miss Broadway's birthday. She lived
at St. Elgiva's, so the girls determined to give a little jollification
that evening in her honour. There would not be time for much in the way
of festivities, but there was a free half-hour after supper, when they
could have the recreation room to themselves. It was to be a private
affair for their own hostel, and only the mistresses who resided there
were invited. The entertainment was to consist of a magic lantern show.
Photography had raged lately as a hobby among the Intermediates, and
several of them had taken to making lantern slides. Patricia--an
indulged only daughter--had persuaded her father to buy her a lantern;
it had just arrived, and she was extremely anxious to test its
capabilities. She put up her screen and made her preparations during the
afternoon, so that when supper was over all was in readiness, and her
audience took their places without delay.
Miss Norton, Miss Parker, and Miss Broadway had specially reserved
chairs in the front row, and the girls filled up the rest of the room.
Some of them, to obtain a better view, squatted on the floor in front of
the chairs, Chrissie and Marjorie being among the number. The lantern
worked beautifully; Patricia made a capital little operator, and managed
to focus very clearly. She first of all showed sets of bought slides,
scenes from Italy and Switzerland and photos of various regiments, and
when these were finished she turned to the slides which she and her
chums had made themselves. There were capital pictures of the school,
the cricket eleven, the hockey team, the quadrangle in the snow, the
gardening assistants, and the tennis champions. They were received with
much applause, Miss Norton in particular congratulating the amateur
photographers on their successful efforts.
"We haven't had time to do very many," said Patricia, "but I've got just
a few more here. This is a good clear one, and interesting too."
The picture which she now threw on the screen showed the road leading to
Whitecliffe, up which a contingent of German prisoners appeared,
guarded by soldiers. In the foreground was a long perambulator holding a
little boy propped up with pillows. It was an excellent photograph, for
the contingent had been caught just at the right moment as it faced the
camera; both prisoners and guards had come out with remarkable
clearness. Something impelled Marjorie to glance at Miss Norton. The
house mistress was gazing at the picture with an expression of amazed
horror in her eyes. She turned quickly to Irene, who was squatting at
her feet, and asked: "Who took that photo?"
"Marjorie Anderson took it, but I made the lantern slide from her film,"
answered Irene proudly. "We think it's quite one of the best."
"I suppose it was just a snapshot as she stood by the roadside?"
"Yes; it was a very lucky one, wasn't it?"
Marjorie, sitting close by, nudged Chrissie, but did not speak. Miss
Norton made no further remark, and Patricia put on the next slide.
Afterwards, in the corridor, Marjorie whispered excitedly to Chrissie:
"Did you notice Norty's face? She was quite upset by my photo of the
German prisoners."
"Yes, I noticed her."
"Significant, wasn't it?"
"Rather!"
"It's like the play scene in _Hamlet_. It seems to me she gave herself
away."
"She was taken unawares."
"Just as the King and Queen were. You remember how Hamlet watched them
all the time? What's happened to-night only confirms our suspicions."
"It does indeed!"
"Perhaps some of her German friends were among the prisoners and she
recognized them."
"It's possible."
"Well, it evidently gave her a great shock, and that would account for
it."
"The plot thickens!"
"It thickens very much indeed. I'm not sure if we oughtn't to tell
somebody."
"No, no! Not on any account!"
"You think so?"
"I'm certain of it. You'll spoil everything if you go blabbing!"
"Well, I won't, if you'd rather not; but I'm just longing to ask
Winifrede what she thinks about it all," said Marjorie regretfully.