CHAPTER XXIITHE FORM AT THE WINDOW
Ned had been through a hard session that had not ended for him until after four o’clock, and he was very far from certain that his answers to Questions V and VIII were going to please Mr. Pennington. A game of golf with Dan Whipple arranged for four o’clock had not materialized, and Ned had returned to No. 16 to spend the remainder of the afternoon worrying about the Latin examination. About 5:30 Laurie came in. Laurie had a bright-red flush under his left eye and looked extremely angry.
“What did you do to your face?” asked Ned.
Laurie viewed himself in the mirror above his chiffonier before replying. Then, “I didn’t do anything to it,” he answered a bit sulkily. “That’s what Elk Thurston did.”
“For the love of mud!” exclaimed Ned. “Don’t tell me you’ve gone and had a fight!”
“I’m not going to,” responded Laurie briefly, sinking into a chair.
“Well, then what—”
“Shut up and I’ll tell you,” said Laurie crossly. “We were playing the scrubs, and Simpson had an exam and wasn’t there, and Pinky put me to catching for them. Elk came sprinting in from third on a little in-field hit, and I got the ball and blocked him easy. He was out a yard from the plate, and that made him mad; that and the fact that he’d made an ass of himself by trying to score, with only one out, on a hit to short-stop. So he jumped up and made a great howl about my having spiked him. Of course I hadn’t. All I had done was block him off when he tried to slide. Cooper told him to shut up, and he went off growling.”
“Well, how did you get—”
“I’m telling you, if you’ll let me! After practice I was walking back with Kewpie and Pat Browne, and just before we got to the fence across the road down there Elk came up and grabbed me by the arm and pulled me around. That made me mad, anyhow, and then he began calling me names and saying what he’d do if Iwasn’t too little, and I swung for him. Missed him, dog-gone it! Then he handed me this and I got him on the neck and the others butted in. That’s all there was to it. How’s the silly thing look?”
“It looks punk,” answered Ned unsympathetically. “Better go down and bathe it in hot water and then put some talcum on it. Gosh, son, I should think you’d have more sense than to get in a brawl with Elk Thurston. That rough-neck stuff doesn’t get you anywhere and—”
“For the love of limes, shut up!” exclaimed Laurie. “I didn’t start it!”
“You didn’t? Didn’t you just say that you hit him first—or tried to?”
“What of it? Wouldn’t you have struck him if he’d called you all sorts of names, like that? I’ll say you would! You’re always strong on the ‘calm yourself’ stuff, but I notice that when any one gets fresh with you—”
“I don’t pick quarrels and slug fellows right under the eyes of faculty, you idiot! For that matter—”
“Oh, forget it!” growled Laurie. “What differencedoes it makewhereyou do it? You give me a pain!”
“You give me worse than that,” replied Ned angrily. “You look like—like a prize-fighter with that lump on your cheek. It’s a blamed shame he didn’t finish the job, I say!”
“Is that so? Maybe you’d like to finish it for him, eh? If you think you would, just say so!”
Ned shrugged contemptuously. “Guess you’ve had enough for one day,” he sneered. “Take my advice and—”
“Your advice!” cried Laurie shrilly. “Your advice! Yes, I’m likely to, you poor shrimp!” He jumped to his feet and glared at Ned invitingly. “You make me sick, Ned, you and your advice. Get it? You haven’t got enough spunk to resent a whack on the nose!”
“Oh, don’t shout like a cheap skate,” answered Ned disgustedly. “Go and fix yourself up, if you can, so I won’t be ashamed to go to supper with you!”
Laurie glared, swallowed hard, and finally nodded. “Listen,” he said slowly. “You don’t have to be seen with me if it offends yourdelicate sensibilities. Get it? And, what’s more, I don’t want to be seen with you. I’m particular, too, you big bluff. When you want to go to supper, you go!”
Laurie grabbed wash-cloth and towel, strode across the room, and slammed the door resoundingly behind him. Left alone, Ned shrugged angrily. “Ugly-tempered brute,” he muttered.
When supper-time came he descended alone to the dining-hall. Laurie had not returned to the room. Laurie arrived a few minutes late, with Kewpie, and took the seat at Ned’s left in silence. He had put talc powder over the abrasion on his cheek-bone, and at a little distance it would not have been noticed. Nearer, however, the lump was plainly visible and seemed to be still swelling. Ned caught a glimpse of it from the corner of his eye, but his irritation still continued, and he offered no comment.
After supper both boys returned to No. 16, although not together, and for two hours occupied opposite sides of the table, and crammed for their last examination, which was due at ten to-morrow. Neither spoke once during the evening. At nine Laurie closed his books and went out. Half anhour later Ned undressed and went to bed. Sleep didn’t come readily, for there was to-day’s examination to worry about, and to-morrow’s, too, for he hadn’t made much of that two hours of preparation, he feared; and then there was this silly quarrel with Laurie. He guessed he had been as much to blame as his brother, but there was no sense in any one’s getting mad the way Laurie had. When Laurie was ready to make friends, why, he’d be ready, too, but that silly goop needn’t expect him to lick his shoes! No, sir, if Laurie wanted to make up he could jolly well say so!
Sleep did come at last, and when he awoke it seemed hours later. The room was in black darkness, but the squares of the wide open windows were slightly grayer. What had awakened him he at first didn’t know. Then his gaze caught a darker something against the gray-black of the nearer casement opening, something that scuffled on the stone ledge and grew larger as he wondered and watched. He opened his mouth to speak, and then remembered that he and Laurie were at outs. The form disappearedfrom sight, and footsteps went softly across the boards, were muffled on the rug, and sounded again by the door.The door was opened, andfor a moment Ned mentally picturedthe boy peeringanxiously outinto the dim hall. Then the door closed again, and after a short silence Laurie’s bed creaked. To prove to the other that his return had not been made unknown, Ned sat up in the blackness and thumped his pillow, striving to express disapprobation in the thumps. Across the room the faint stirrings ceased, and silence reigned again.
Ned smiled grimly. Laurie had probably thought that by being so quiet he could get in without his brother’s knowing it, but he had shown him! Then Ned’s satisfaction faded. What the dickens had Laurie been doing out at this time of night? It must be twelve, or even later! If he had been up to mischief—but of course he had; a fellow didn’t climb into his room by the window unless he had something to hide. Even being out after ten o’clock was a punishable offense! Ned began to worry. Suppose some one had seen Laurie. Why had Lauriegone to the door and listened unless he had suspected some one of having seen him? The idiot! The chump! The—
Over his head he heard a board creak. He listened. The sound reached him again. In Elk Thurston’s room some one was up, too. Or had he imagined it? All was quiet now. Was it possible that Laurie and Elk had been settling their score? Surely not at this time of night. And yet— From across the room came the unmistakable sounds of deep and regular breathing. Laurie was asleep beyond a doubt! Ned frowned disgustedly. Here he was worrying himself about a silly coot that was fast asleep! He poked his head resolutely into his pillow. All right! He guessed he could do that, too! And presently he did.
In the morning Ned waited for Laurie to break the ice, but Laurie didn’t. Laurie went about his task of dressing in silence. There was a sort of stern look in his face in place of the sullen expression of last evening, and more than once Ned caught him looking across in an oddly speculative way. The last time Ned caught him at it he began to feel uneasy, and he wanted very much toask what Laurie meant by it. It was almost as if Laurie had caughthimat something, instead of its being just the other way about! But he was too stubborn to speak first, and they went out of the room with the silence still unbroken.
At breakfast, Mr. Brock, at whose table they sat, made the disquieting announcement that Edward and Laurence Turner were wanted at the Doctor’s study at 8:30. Involuntarily the gaze of the two boys met swiftly. Each thought at once of examinations, although further consideration told them that it was still too soon for any shortcomings of theirs to reach the principal.
Although they had entered the dining-hall separately, now a common uneasiness took them together to the Doctor’s, albeit in silence. They were asked to be seated, which they accepted as a favorable sign, but there was, nevertheless, something unsympathetic in Dr. Hillman’s countenance. The latter swung himself around in his chair and faced them, his head thrust forward a little because of a near-sightedness not wholly corrected by his spectacles. And then Laurie observed that the Doctor was gazing intently at apoint just under his left eye, and told himself that the summons was explained. He was, though, still wondering why Ned had been included in the party when the Doctor spoke.
“Laurence,” he asked, “how did you come by that contusion?”
Laurie hesitated, then answered, “I was having a—a little bout with one of the fellows and he struck me, sir.”
“Who was the boy?”
“Thurston, sir.”
“Have you witnesses to prove that?”
“Yes, sir, several fellows were there. Pat—I mean Patton Browne, and Proudtree and—”
“When did it take place, this—ah—bout?”
“Yesterday afternoon, about half-past five.”
The Doctor mused a minute. Then, “Which of you boys entered your room by the window last night at about a quarter before twelve o’clock?” he asked. The question was so unexpected that Laurie’s mouth fell open widely. Then, as neither boy answered, the Doctor continued: “Was it you, Laurence?”
“N-no, sir!” blurted Laurie.
Then, ere the words were well out, he wishedthem back, and in a sudden panic he added, “I mean—”
But the Doctor had turned to Ned. “Was it you, Edward?” he asked.
Ned’s gaze dropped from the Doctor’s, and for an instant he made no reply. Then he raised his eyes again, and, “I’d rather not say, sir,” he announced respectfully but firmly.
There followed another brief silence. Laurie was trying hard not to look at Ned. The Doctor was thoughtfully rolling a pencil across the big blotter under the palm of one hand. Ned watched him and waited. Then the Doctor looked up again.
“You are, of course,” he said not unkindly, “privileged to refuse to answer, Edward, but when you do there is but one construction to be placed on your refusal. I presume that you did climb into your room by a window last night. I confess that I don’t understand it, for this is the first time since you came to us that your conduct has been questioned. If you are shielding another—” his glance swept to Laurie and away again—“you are doing wrong. Punishment that falls on an innocent party fails of its purpose.I am, therefore, going to ask you to reconsider, Edward. It will be better for every one if you answer ‘yes’ or ‘no’ to my question.”
Ned returned the principal’s gaze straightly. “I’d rather not, sir,” he replied.
“Very well, but I warn you that your offense is a very serious one and that it calls for a drastic penalty. Were you alone in the—ah—escapade?”
Ned looked puzzled. “Sir?” he asked.
“I asked you—But you need not answer that. I’ll put it another way. There were two of you in the car according to an eye-witness. Who was the other boy?”
“Car?” faltered Ned. “What car, sir?”
The Doctor frowned disapprovingly. “It is so futile, my boy,” he said, “to act this way.” He turned to Laurie. “What do you know about this, Laurence? You have said that you did not enter your room last night by the window. At what time did you return to your room? Where were you, for instance, at, say, a quarter to twelve?”
“I was in bed, sir.”
“What time did you go to bed?”
“About ten minutes past ten.”
“Where was Edward then?”
“In bed, sir, and asleep.”
“What? You are telling me the truth? Did you see him there?”
“Yes, sir.”
The Doctor frowned perplexedly. “Then you know nothing of any one’s having entered your room by a window close to midnight?”
Laurie hesitated now. Then, “I went to sleep about ten minutes after I got in bed, sir, and so I wouldn’t be likely—”
“Please answer my question,” interrupted the Doctor coldly.
“I’d rather not, sir,” said Laurie.
“One more question, then,” announced the inquisitor grimly. “Were you in Mr. Wells’s automobile last evening when it collided with a hydrant on Washington Street at approximately half-past eleven?”
“Why, no, sir! I didn’t know it had—had collided!”
Ned was looking rather white.
“You know nothing about the incident?”
“No, sir!”
“And you, Edward?”
“No, sir.”
“But, if you deny the automobile part of it, why not deny the rest? I see, though. You knew that Mr. Cornish had seen you climbing in at the window. I’m afraid you won’t get anywhere that way, Edward. Mr. Wells’s car was taken from the front of the school last evening and driven out Washington Street six blocks, where it was in collision with a hydrant. It was abandoned there. A reliable witness states positively that there were two persons in the car just before the accident. About ten or twelve minutes later Mr. Cornish saw some one climb up the Washington Street side of East Hall and disappear through your window. Those are the facts, Edward. The evidence against you is so far circumstantial, but you must acknowledge that the incident of the car and that of your—of some one’s entrance into your room by the window look to be more than a mere coincidence. In other words, whoever entered your room at midnight was in the stolen car a quarter of an hour before. That’s a fair and very natural assumption. If I were you, I’d think the matter over carefully and see me again before eighto’clock this evening, at which time it will come before the faculty conference. And now, Laurence, let me have those names once more.” He drew a scratch-pad to him and poised a pencil. “You say Elkins Thurston struck you and that Proudtree, Browne, and—who else was there?”
“Lew Cooper and Gordon Simkins were there when—right afterward, sir, and I guess they saw it.”
“Thank you. That is all, then. I shall have to ask both of you to remain in bounds until this matter is—ah—settled. Good morning.”
“But—but, Doctor, I’m—I’m on the baseball team, sir!” exclaimed Laurie in almost horrified accents. “We play this afternoon!”
“I’m sorry, Laurence,” was the reply, “but until you are more frank in your answers I shall have to consider you under suspicion, also.”
“Well,” said Laurie bitterly, when they were outside, “you certainly have made a mess of things!”
“I!” exclaimed Ned incredulously, “I’vemade a mess of things? What about you?”
“Me? What could I say?” countered Laurie hotly. “I did all I could!”
“All right,” said Ned wearily. “Let’s drop it. He won’t be able to pin anything on you. You’ll get out of it all right.”
There was a trace of bitterness in Ned’s voice, and Laurie scowled. “Well, he asked me so suddenly,” he muttered apologetically, “I—I just said what came into my head. I’m sorry. I’d have refused to answer if he hadn’t sprung it so quick.”
“It would have been rather more—rather less contemptible,” answered Ned coldly.
Laurie flushed. “Thanks! I guess that’ll be about all from you, Ned. When I want any more of your brotherly remarks I’ll let you know!” He swung aside and left Ned to go on alone to No. 16.
The story of the purloining of the physical director’s blue roadster was all over school by that time. Ned got the full details from Kewpie. Mr. Wells had left the car in front of School Hall, as he very often did, and was playing a game of chess with Mr. Pennington. Shortly after half-past eleven he had looked for the car, had failed to find it, and had hurried to the corner. There he had met a man coming down WalnutStreet who, when questioned, said that he had seen such a car as Mr. Wells’s about five blocks east, where Washington and Walnut Streets come together, not longer ago than five minutes. There were two persons in it, and the car was not being driven more than, possibly, twenty miles an hour. Mr. Wells had gone out Walnut Street and found the car with one front wheel on the sidewalk, the mud-guard on that side torn off, and the radiator stove in. There was no one about. The car wasn’t very badly damaged, it was said, but Mr. Wells was awfully mad about it. It was down in Plummer’s Garage, and Ned could see it if he wanted to. Kewpie had seen it. It looked fierce, but maybe it wouldn’t cost more than a hundred dollars to fix it up again!
“Know who did it?” asked Ned.
“Me? I’ll say I don’t!” Kewpie laughed relievedly. “I guess it was professional automobile thieves, all right, though. They were probably heading for Windsor. That’s a dark corner up there, and I guess they lost the road and turned too quick. They must have lost their nerve, for Mr. Wells drove the car down to the garage and it went all right, they say. Guessthey thought it was done for and didn’t try to see if it would still go. Sort of a joke on them, wasn’t it?”
“I suppose,” said Ned carelessly, “none of our fellows are suspected?”
“Of course not. Why, it happened after half-past eleven! Say, you haven’t—haven’t heard anything?” Kewpie’s eyes grew round with excitement. “Say, Ned, what is it?” But Ned shook his head wearily.
“I know no more of the business than you do, Kewpie. Now beat it, will you? I’ve got an exam at ten.”