Oh, I say, gasped Tinkle
"'Oh, I say,' gasped Tinkle; 'if it isn't Elgert himselfthis time.'" p. 172
"Well, they won't split," was the philosophic reply. "They will only want to go shares. I know 'em both."
"Eat cakes while we pay; and Dobson is such a greedy beast!" And Tinkle groaned to himself.
"Perhaps they are not going to stop," whispered Green. "They may only be going to take something back with them."
It seemed like it; for the two boys outside made no attempt to enter the inner room. They both seemed rather flustered and out of breath, and as Brown came forward to attend to their wants Dobson panted out—
"Oh—er—I say, Brown. That—that note I changed the other day. I should like—that is—I mean——"
"We want it back!" put in Elgert impatiently,pushing his companion aside. "We cannot explain why, but we are very anxious to get hold of it!"
"Fact is, we fancy that it is bad, and we don't want you to be the loser, you see," added Dobson. And Brown smiled slightly and nodded.
"That's very good of you young gentlemen—very good and honourable. But you have no occasion to worry; the note was good enough. I saw to that."
"Well, good or bad," Elgert said, "I want to get hold of it! And, as you know, I am always willing to pay for what I want. I will give you six pounds for that note, Brown!"
The man glanced at him shrewdly. What did this mean? Why had they invented that lie about the note being bad; and why were they willing to give a pound extra to get it into their hands again?
"I am very sorry, sir," he said slowly, "but the fact is, I have parted with that note. I changed it only a short time ago."
"Changed it!" Elgert went rather white, and Dobson groaned dismally. "Whom did you give it to?" was Elgert's quick inquiry. "Perhaps he has it still!"
"Well," responded Brown, "the fact is, I can hardly remember. You see, a lot of money passes through my hands, and I have passed on four or five notes to-day. I should have to inquire of the different people, and find who had the identical note that you require."
"And will you do it?" cried Elgert quickly. "I will not grumble about the price. I want to get the note back, and I am willing to pay well for it. When can you let me know about it?"
"If you came to-morrow, sir, about this time, I'd see what I could do meanwhiles. I may be able to get hold of it again, if it has not been paid into the bank."
There was nothing more to be done. Elgert and Dobson came away with a horrible feeling of nervous apprehension filling their hearts. If that note was gone, what might not the consequences be for both of them? They were quarrelsome—each blamed the other—each tried to screen himself. But recriminations were of no avail; nothing was of avail, unless it was getting hold of the note once more.
And when the two had gone, the feasters on unlawful pastries came forth from their hiding-place; and having settled their bill with lordly air, they also set out for the school, for there was no time to lose if they were to be back before calling over.
But they had something to think about indeed! Why did Elgert want that note? And how came it that Dobson had possessed one to change at all?
"What are we going to do about this, Jimmy?" inquired Tinkle, as they ran along, and Green answered without the slightest hesitation.
"Nothing! That is my advice, Tinkle. We can't do anything without owning up to having been outof bounds; and I don't want my name down for punishment now. We don't know that the note is the one which Mr. Delermain lost. We only know that it is one Elgert and Dobson want to get hold of for some purpose of their own; they may be trying to trace something about it."
And then Brown went to stand at his shop-door, impatiently watching for the return of his companion, and hailing him as he saw him appear round the bend of the road.
"It's curious that they should be so anxious to get that note back" he said, when he told the other of Elgert's request. "Offered a pound, and said he was willing to go beyond that. Well, as you have changed the note, it is your property, and the profit will be yours. Of course, you will part with it?"
The man drew the note from his pocket-book, and examined it carefully ere he answered.
"It is quite genuine," he said, and Brown laughed.
"Of course, it is! I knew that all along. That part of their story was all nonsense. There is something up, but you may as well make your little bit out of it. Say I give you six pounds for it, and chance making any more myself?"
"Not to-day," was the quiet answer. "You shall have it in a day or two. You can say that you have been promised that it shall be returned."
"But what do you want to do with it for a day or two?" asked Brown, with something of curiosity.
And the man looked him in the face, and replied, with a quiet smile—
"Do? Oh, nothing! I only think that it may be as well if I have this banknote photographed. You can have it after that, and we will share the profits."
Then Brown laughed, and clapped him on the back.
"You are a smart fellow!" he cried.
And the man answered.
"There are some people living who will find that out to their cost one of these fine days!"
If Elgert and Dobson and the two juniors who had overheard that conversation in Brown's cake-shop were the four most excited concerning the five-pound note which had been stolen from Mr. Delermain, they were not the only ones in Marlthorpe College who were interested in the matter.
From first to last the whole school could do nothing but discuss the mysterious business; and, whatever else it did, the attempt to put the guilt upon Ralph's shoulders resulted in his being all the more firmly established in the favour of most of the boys.
Even those who had not liked him were more friendly now; for there was something so shameful and wicked in trying to get him accused of that which it had been proved he was innocent of, that they could not but feel sympathy for him. Then the story of his brave deed in rescuing Elgert was strongly in his favour. After all, boys at heart love bravery.
But of all there, Warren and Ralph himself pondered most. Their friendship was quite restored, and together they talked and discussed, and wonderedwho it could possibly be who would want to harm Ralph.
And poor Charlton! Ah, how miserable he was now! He had his own weight of sorrow, and it was very, very heavy to bear; and after what Ralph had said he could never hope that they would be friends again.
"I suppose that I am to blame," he said. "Perhaps I took things too much to heart. I feel that I am never to have friends. I—I don't care! Rexworth might give me another chance; but if he won't—if he is so taken up with Warren—he can do as he likes. I don't care!"
Poor Charlton! He did care, for all his talk—care very much. He was lonely and sad; but he did not stop to think that Ralph had already given him chances, and that it was his own fault that he had not taken them. When we are miserable we are also apt to be unjust, and to put the blame for our own actions upon other people's shoulders.
And how interested and indignant, and yet withal delighted, were the St. Clives when they heard of what had happened.
"A clean reputation is a good thing, you see, Ralph," Mr. St. Clive said. "It is surely worth something to feel that people have such a high estimate of you as to realize that you are utterly incapable of doing a mean thing, even though appearances are so strong against you."
"It is just splendid to think how you have come out of it, Ralph!" was Irene's delighted comment when the two young people were alone. "It is like when wicked people tried to injure the brave knights of old, and when truth and valour and true chivalry triumphed over all opposition. There is something, even here and now, to be gained when people know that you are fighting under honour's flag!"
And Ralph had to acknowledge that she spoke the truth, and to own that he was now very glad that he had resisted the temptation to yield and to run away from his troubles.
That Saturday holiday—the one after the business of the note being found in his pocket-book—was one of the happiest that he had spent since coming to Stow Ormond—a day when the clouds seemed to have lifted, when the sun seemed brighter, and when faith grew more strong. It came from the feeling that he had fought a good fight, and that he had been helped to be more than conqueror.
And yet he had forgotten nothing of his father. He was as anxious as ever to solve the mystery surrounding his disappearance; only now, instead of being impatient, he felt that he was preparing in the best way for seeking the truth by staying with Mr. St. Clive, and by working as hard as ever he could.
And on that same afternoon he walked with Irene as far as the pretty old inn; and old Simon, thelandlord, greeted him with a cheery smile; for, indeed, Simon felt a great interest in the lad, seeing that the first scene in his strange story was enacted beneath his roof.
"And how are you, young gentleman?" he asked. "And you, too, missie?"—as the two entered the yard. "Come to pay a visit to old Simon—eh?"
"I have come to talk to you, Simon," answered Ralph. No one ever called the landlord of theHorse and Wheelanything but Simon. "I have come to ask you something."
"That's right, sir! Ask away—though I don't promise to answer if it is a poser. I haven't had the education which you young people enjoy."
"It is nothing to do with education, Simon," laughed Ralph. "I want to ask you whether, now that you have had plenty of time to think of it—as I feel sure you must have thought—do you think that you have any recollection of ever having seen my father before? I feel certain that he knew the place; and if he knew it, perhaps you may be able to think of some one whom he reminds you of."
But Simon shook his head at that question.
"I am afraid that I cannot answer that, sir. Your father certainly did know the place; for when I told him the number of his room he walked right up to it without waiting to be shown. And, in some way, I seem to have a faint recollection of havingseen him before; but it is all dim and hazy like, and it wouldn't do to go upon."
"Thank you, Simon. Now the other question—and I want you to keep this to yourself; I have a particular reason for that. Do you know any one in the neighbourhood who drives about in a light trap, and who has a horse lame in its left foreleg?"
"Well," said the old man thoughtfully, "come to that, there are plenty of folk with light traps hereabout; and I know of two lame horses. Old Saxer, the carter, has one, and Hopkin, the butcher, has one, and—why, yes, Lord Elgert himself has a pretty little mare lame in her left foreleg. She hurt herself in a hole, and, though she goes all right now, she has a bit of a limp. And, why, come to think of it, now I remember who your father put me in mind of."
"Who—oh, who?" cried Ralph eagerly; while Irene looked on not less interested.
"Who?" said the innkeeper. "Why, of old Lord Stephen! He was Lord Elgert's uncle, and he died without leaving child of his own. He had one son, who died long, long ago. That is it, for certain! But what ails you, young sir?"
For Ralph had gone quite white. He had never expected that answer. Lord Elgert had a lame horse! Lord Elgert was the nephew of some one whom his father had resembled! Lord Elgert had told that wicked story about his father; and Lord Elgertwas so very anxious for him to go back to the plains, and leave England behind him for ever! Surely it could not be! And yet, as Ralph pondered, he seemed to call to mind a hundred things to strengthen his suspicions. It could not be that Lord Elgert knew anything about his father!
A very grave Ralph walked home to lunch; and a very grave Mr. St. Clive listened to his story.
"I could wish that this had not been brought up, Ralph," he said. "I fear that it will only unsettle you again; and, in spite of all that you advance, I cannot bring myself to believe that you are anything but mistaken. Lord Elgert may not be a pleasant man to deal with, but this is a very, very grave thing to even so much as hint at."
But whatever Mr. St. Clive might say, Ralph could not get the thing out of his head. It is not to be wondered at that it should haunt him and make him feel excited. After waiting so long, this was like the first real tangible clue. And he had been thinking that it was poor Charlton's father who must be at the bottom of it! Poor Charlton!
Walking by himself, Ralph pondered upon the fact that, after all, if any one had hinted to him what he had hinted to his chum he would have been just as hurt and indignant. And now that he was cleared it would be manly and nice to go and ask him to be friends again.
"He can hardly do anything if I don't give himthe chance," he told himself. "I will do it as soon as I get back to school on Monday."
His head full of the tracks of lame horses and light traps, he had taken his way across towards Stow Wood, the scene of that tragedy—for tragedy he believed there had surely been—and as he walked over the common he reflected that those marks had led away in the direction of Great Stow; and in Great Stow or just beyond it, Lord Elgert lived.
And then, as he walked along, his eyes thoughtfully fixed upon the ground, he stopped suddenly. Surely things were going strangely to-day; for, coming on top of old Simon's words, here was the track of the lame horse again!
"I will follow it this time," said Ralph to himself.
And he set forward rapidly. There was plenty of both light and time this afternoon, and if the tracks led to hard roads he would go on and search beyond them.
But he did not have very far to go this time, though he gained but little for his trouble. The other side the common, and close to Stow Wood, he came upon the vehicle he had followed—a light trap, truly, and drawn by a pretty little mare; and with it were three men, one in the uniform of a constable and the others in ordinary dress.
"Who does this trap belong to?"
The question was absurd, perhaps, but he blurted it out without thinking; and the men turned andregarded him with mingled surprise and amusement.
"And what has that to do with you, if you please?" said one—the one in uniform.
And what could he say? Whatever the other two were, one was a constable; and surely a constable was sufficient evidence that he had followed a wrong trail!
"You seem to have a liking for asking questions, young gentleman," said one of the other men. "Now, suppose that we ask you one? Have you seen any one out here—any one that seemed as if they were trying to hide? We are looking for a prisoner of ours, who escaped some time back, and who, we believe, is hiding in this locality. Have you seen any suspicious character about?"
Detectives! A prisoner! It must be Charlton's father! How glad he was that he could answer truly that he had seen no one! And the man who had put the question replied to him, when he had finished:
"Thank you. Now, as you have answered me, I will answer you; though I confess that I do not understand the reason for your question. The horse and trap belong to Lord Elgert. Doubtless you have heard of him. He kindly lent them to us that we might be saved a long walk."
It was Lord Elgert's! And these men, in Lord Elgert's trap, were looking for poor Charlton's father! Ralph thanked the constables, letting them remain in ignorance as to the real reason for his question, and with slow and thoughtful steps turned into Stow Wood.
He was bewildered, perplexed, stunned. It was Lord Elgert's trap! Could Lord Elgert be the one who had harmed his father?
Pondering deeply, he walked on, hardly noticing where he went, until suddenly a slight exclamation recalled his wandering senses. He looked up. He had penetrated into a little glade, and there before him stood two people—his chum Charlton and a man! He had found the one for whom the police were searching so close at hand!
The man started to his feet, with an exclamation of mingled rage and despair; while Charlton stood before his father, his arms outstretched, as if he feared that Ralph would rush forward and seize him.
His face was very white, as he looked at the boy who had been his friend and champion, and cried, in tones of misery and reproach—
"You! Oh, this is mean and cruel! I did not think that you would act the spy and hunt us down. Let him go—let him go quietly; and, if you want to harm any one, hurt me. I will not move, or cry out, no matter how much you beat me—only let my poor father go, and do not tell any one you have seen him."
Now, Ralph had been standing in silence, too surprised to say anything. Despite what Mr. St. Clive had said, he had some sort of idea that this man must, in some way, know of his father's disappearance, even if he himself had no hand in it, just as he still thought that Charlton knew more about the missing note than any one else, though that suspicion was beginning to weaken considerably now.
But as he looked from the boy to the man, and as he heard that pathetic appeal, every feeling, save that of pity, vanished. This man should not be captured, not if he could hinder it; and he said, advancing a step, and holding out one hand in friendship—
"Why, Charlton, you don't think as meanly of me as that, do you? I neither want to harm you nor your father, though it is quite true that I came here to find you."
"But—why? How did you know that we should be here?" questioned the boy, not yet reassured.
And Ralph hurriedly explained how he had followed the trap and come upon the policemen.
"I felt certain that it must be your father whom they were after," he said; "and so I determined to come through the wood to try to find you and give you warning. We must be quick, or there will be no chance of getting away."
"Oh, father," wailed Charlton, "I wish that I had not persuaded you to come here again! You will be taken! What shall we do?"
"My boy," answered the man calmly, "try and be brave. We owe our thanks to this young gentleman for the kindly warning he has brought. If I must be taken, I must; and I will try to bear it patiently, though it is very hard. It is strange that they should have Lord Elgert's trap," he added bitterly. "Elgert has been at the bottom of all my troubles."
"Look here!" expostulated Ralph bluntly. "It'sno good stopping here talking and wasting time when every minute is precious. Those fellows are on the farther side of the wood, and they are beginning to search, and they won't leave off until they have hunted right through the place."
"But where can we go?" asked Charlton, wringing his hands. "This place has nowhere to hide in; nowhere that could not be found if once people were really searching."
"They will search; there is no doubt of that," answered Ralph. "But we may manage to elude them. We cannot stay here dodging round, that is quite certain. We must manage to get out of it and find somewhere else to hide."
"Ah, my kind boy, but where shall that somewhere be?" said the man, shaking his head. "It might have been in my own home, but now that they think that I am here, and are on my track, they will keep their eyes on that spot, and I have not one single friend who will shelter me."
"Hush! Hush!" cried Ralph suddenly. "Listen! There is no time to lose. They are in the wood on that side. Creep after me. Stop! Cover those leaves over or they will see where you have been standing."
"You are thoughtful for one so young," murmured the man, as he obeyed Ralph's instructions. "Well, I will place myself under your guidance, and trust to you. Where shall we go? Through that undergrowth?"
"No, no! You cannot move through that without making a noise and leaving traces. Keep to this path. I feel sure that is wisest. Bend low, and step lightly. Come! Now, Charlton, buck up, and we will save your father yet."
His confidence inspired them with hope. Unhesitatingly they followed his lead. The path he chose led them into another clear little space, away to the right of that which they had left. They could hear the noise made by their pursuers in their rear, and they did not seem any better off here. It was only putting off the end for a little time, and so Charlton's father said, but Ralph would not listen to him. He had been in as tight a corner before, when he and his father, and two more, had been pursued by the Indians of the plains, and had dodged and doubled for three whole days ere they had thrown their foe off their track. Ralph was not going to give up yet.
"Stop!" he said. "You must climb up this tree. No, not that one!" as Charlton ran to a big, old decaying oak.
"But this is hollow. We can hide in it," objected the boy.
But Ralph shook his head.
"I can see it is hollow, and so can any one who has a pair of eyes. That is just why we must not go there, for they will be sure to look in it. Up this one!"
"But we shall be seen."
"Do as your friend bids you," said the man.
And Charlton obeyed, his father following him.
Then did Ralph show his cunning, for, directing them to stand with their backs against the trunk, he showed them how to draw the branches down until they made a thick canopy all around them. Ralph himself stood at the bottom, carefully examining their hiding-place.
"Now, if you stand quite still, as you are, no one will be able to see you," he said. "But remember there must be no noise and no movement; everything may depend upon that. Keep still. Here is some one coming!"
A man appeared at the end of the glade, and, catching a glimpse of the boy's form, gave a shout and ran forward; but he stopped, and looked very cross, as Ralph himself walked innocently to meet him, with the question—"Have not you found him yet?"
"No," grumbled the man. "He is a slippery fellow, and is giving us a lot of trouble; but we will have him yet. We are working right through the wood, and we must be driving him before us, and when he gets to the other side——"
"He will bolt," said Ralph.
But the man smiled grimly.
"Into our arms. We have four men stationed keeping watch there. No, we shall have him yet. You have not seen him?"
"There was a man in that little hollow, the other end of this path. I saw him there," said Ralph, with perfect truthfulness.
"Which hollow? The one to the right?" said the man quickly.
And Ralph nodded.
"Ah, we have looked there! He has bolted. Then we are right on his track. Stop a minute, though. That old tree looks a likely place. Here, give us a hand, boy! I will lift you, and you look in. Can you see anything?"
And he lifted Ralph, and helped him to scramble up, and peer down into the hollow depths of the old oak.
"Can't see much," said Ralph, his head in the hollow. "There is a gleam of light below, and something dark. Can't you clear away the leaves a bit, and then I can see whether it is a man or not?"
The constable sprawled on the ground, and thrust his arm into the hole at the bottom of the trunk, dragging out leaves and dust, till Ralph cried—
"It is all right; I can see now. There is no one there. What I was looking at was a lot of leaves. They have tumbled over now, and you are pulling them out."
"That's no good, then; only it looked a likely place. Down you come, boy!"
And, helping Ralph down, the man turned and ran off, satisfied that he had looked in the only place where the fugitive could have hidden himself.
"I see that you are a clever lad," said Mr. Charlton when the fugitives again stood beside Ralph. "But what now? You heard what he said? There is no getting away on that side."
"We are not going out that side, though," was Ralph's answer. "We are behind them now, and while they are hunting forward, we will go back."
"They will have left watchers behind them."
"I suppose so. They cannot have left many, though, for they had not enough men. Back is our only chance. We will try it. There is no time to stop talking now," he added, as he saw that the man was going to ask more questions. "Come, follow me!"
Going cautiously, pausing to listen again and again, he led the way; and soon they were getting close to that side of the wood from which the search had commenced. Then he bade the other two remain hidden, and he went forward by himself, until, at last, he was able to peer from the hedges.
He did not see a single man, though he looked carefully; but he did see—and the sight made his heart jump wildly—the horse and trap, the horse contentedly feeding on the rich grass. He would risk it! One chance, and one alone, offered, and he would take it!
He beckoned to his companions to join him, and whispered his plans.
"It is the only chance. No one is near the trap, and we can drive off before they will even know that it is gone. Will you dare it?"
"Yes," said the man desperately.
And Ralph, with a "Follow me, then!" was at the trap, had the rope, with which the horse had been tethered, cut; the other two were up after him, and, with a crack of the whip, away they went, clean across the open moor.
Lame or not, that pony had to go, for once. They were right across, close on two miles away, and getting near to Great Stow, before a distant shout, and figures running from the wood, told them that the theft had been discovered.
"Lie down, Charlton," he said, "and you sit directly behind me," he added to the man. "It will be far better if they can only see one person in the trap. We don't want them to know that I helped you if it can be avoided."
They reached the road; then turned to the right, so that the view was shut off from those behind. No one had seen them with the trap, and now Ralph reined in, and jumped down.
"Come on!" he said. "Lord Elgert's pony must look after itself now. Quick, we must hurry!"
"Where are you going to, Rexworth?" criedCharlton in surprise. "There is nowhere about here where father can hide."
But Ralph answered with a smile, never slackening his pace as he spoke—
"Hurry up! There is one place—a safe place. I am going to Mr. St. Clive's."
"To Mr. St. Clive's!"
What wonder that the words filled Charlton with surprise. Ralph was surely risking a great deal in taking such a step. But Ralph knew Mr. St. Clive, and Charlton did not—and that made a great deal of difference. Besides, the case was desperate. Somewhere must be found in which to hide; and no other place offered, so to Mr. St. Clive's they went; and Ralph, leaving his two companions in the garden, went indoors by himself.
But if the Charltons were surprised when Ralph announced his intention of going to Mr. St. Clive's, that gentleman was still more astonished when the lad told him of his adventures, and what he had done.
"You know that you said, sir," Ralph concluded by saying—"that you always had a great idea that Mr. Charlton was innocent; and that if I were instrumental in getting him taken I might regret it all the rest of my life, and so I thought that you would be sure to sympathize with the poor man, and be ready to help him."
"Well, Ralph," laughed Mr. St. Clive, "you have certainly taken me at my word. However, I do not know but what I am glad that you have done so; and Mr. Charlton being here, I may be able, after consultation with him, to devise some means of proving that he was innocent of the crime laid to his charge. Let us go and welcome him."
It was very affecting, that meeting between the two men—the one so weary and dispirited, the other such a true Christian gentleman; but Mr. St. Clive soon put the other at his ease, and they all entered the house. Irene was out with her mother at the moment; and after Mr. St. Clive had seen that his new guest was provided with food, he spoke, and the other three sat listening attentively.
"Now, Mr. Charlton," he said, "I have been thinking, and I can see one way for your remaining here in safety, and being able to communicate freely with your wife."
"That is a blessing too great to be possible," sighed Mr. Charlton; but Mr. St. Clive smiled kindly.
"I differ from you. It is not only possible, but easy. Listen to me. It is unlikely that any one will dream of looking for you here; but to make doubly sure, we can disguise you. Now, it so happens that I am in need of a gardener, and there is a cottage vacant. You must be gardener. If you know nothing of gardening, that does not much matter; I can post you up in it. Then, my wife can invite Mrs. Charltonto visit here, and there will be nothing to prevent her coming frequently, and staying all day. There is only one thing to remember. Of course, I shall tell my wife everything, but I do not think that my little daughter ought to be made a party to this; so to her you will be, say, Thomas Brown—that is an easy name—and before her our manner towards each other must be that of master and servant. You will not mind that?"
"Mind!" cried Mr. Charlton, the tears rolling down his cheeks. "Mind! Can you think that I shall mind such a trifle as that, when you are so good, and ready to take the risk of helping me? But this morning I felt that, excepting wife and son, I had not a friend in the world. Now I find that God has not forsaken me utterly."
"He never does forsake those who put their trust in Him," was the gentle answer. "Well, come with me at once, and we will see about making a gardener of you, before any of the servants can see you as you are. And you, boys, remember how you behave to my gardener," he added, looking at them. "You, Ralph, have been very thoughtful in the way you have managed—mind you do not make a slip."
"I will try my best, sir," answered Ralph; and then he and Charlton were left alone. And then—then all of a sudden Charlton was kneeling at his feet, holding his hand and kissing it, and sobbing out his thanks; until Ralph cried out that if he didn't getup he would punch his head for him, to give him something to cry about, and to show that he was his friend; and that made poor Charlton laugh feebly.
And, sitting there, Charlton explained what he was too proud to tell before—how he had wanted that ten shillings to help his father; and how his father, not using it, had given it back to him.
"Indeed, I knew nothing about the note, Ralph," he said. "I know that you thought I had stolen it, and it made me miserable, but I am sorry that I spoke to you as I did."
"All right, old fellow!" answered Ralph, wringing his hand. "Do not let us think of it any more. Besides, I have a pretty good idea of who took that note now—or, rather, who caused it to be taken. I don't know for certain, so I will accuse no one; but I don't think that it was you."
"You mean Horace Elgert!" cried Charlton; but Ralph smiled and shook his head.
"Won't do, old fellow. I said that I would not mention names. But look here, Charlton, I do want to ask your father one thing. Does he know anything about my father?"
"Your father! How can he, Ralph?"
"He might have been in Stow Wood that night, and have seen or heard something," the boy said.
"I will answer that question for myself!" Mr. Charlton entered as Ralph was speaking, and the boys started, for even Charlton would not have knownhis father in the half-bald, grey-bearded old fellow who stood before him. "I will answer that question, Ralph Rexworth; and then, after that, I am only Brown, the gardener, remember. I can give you no information beyond this. On the night of your father's disappearance—my son has told me about that—I was in Stow Wood, and I heard a shot; and afterwards I saw a trap being driven rapidly away. There were two men in it, and one of those two leaned up against his companion as though he was helpless or badly hurt. Hiding myself, I could not follow them; but I thought at the time that it looked like foul play."
"The second man was not dead?" cried Ralph anxiously; and the answer was very positive—
"No, I am quite certain of that, for I heard him groan as they passed in the darkness. That is all I can tell you. It was natural that you should think that I knew something about it. I have also heard that I am supposed to be the one who entered the dormitory at the school one night; but I am innocent of that. A little thought ought to convince any one that to do such a thing would be the very last object of my wishes—the danger of being captured would be too great; and I do not quite see what any one can imagine that I should want to go there for."
"It is all a mystery to me," said Ralph. And then Irene's voice was heard in the hall, and she and her mother entered.
"Back again, Ladybird!" said her father, kissing her. Then, seeing her eyes fixed on the strangers, he went on: "Ah! you want an introduction? This is Fred Charlton, Ralph's friend; and this is a man who is to be our new gardener. His name is Thomas Brown. Run off with Ralph and Charlton for a little while; I want to talk to your mother."
When the young people were gone, Mr. St. Clive told his wife of Ralph's adventures, and introduced Mr. Charlton in his proper character. And Mrs. St. Clive spoke so nicely and kindly, and promised to go and see Mrs. Charlton the very next day; and when she met Ralph she squeezed his hand, and gave him such a kiss as made him know that she was glad he had acted as he had done.
And on the Sunday Mrs. St. Clive went for Mrs. Charlton, and brought her back with her. No one saw the meeting between the husband and wife save their own son; for Ralph had to take Irene right out of the way, lest she should wonder at their guest talking to the gardener, or going to his cottage.
But afterwards, when Mrs. Charlton met the boy to whom she owed so much—oh, the look of gratitude which she gave him, and the way in which she spoke! It made Ralph very happy, but it made him very uncomfortable at the same time.
And then, the day past and morning come, it was once more back to school; and some of the boys stared when they saw Ralph and Charlton appeararm-in-arm, for their quarrel had been noticed and discussed.
But when Tom Warren saw them, he came running up, a real glad smile on his face.
"Hallo, you two!" he said, as he met them. "I am awfully glad to see this. It's the right thing; and I do hope that you won't quarrel again."
"I shall never quarrel with Rexworth any more," said Charlton, in low tones. "You have no need to fear that, Warren. I owe him more than I can ever repay, though I cannot tell you why!"
"Perhaps I can tell you why," replied Warren, with a laugh. "For it is all over the place. Elgert set it going."
"Set what going?" demanded the two chums, in one voice; and the monitor went on—
"Oh, he says that—I don't want to pain you, Charlton, but it is better to hear it from a friend than from an enemy"—and Warren turned, half apologetically to Charlton as he said this—"he says that your father was in Stow Wood, and that the police were looking for him——"
"And that Lord Elgert lent them his pony and trap to hunt him down," put in Charlton bitterly.
"No, he didn't say that. Did he, though? The mean sneak! Well, he says that your father was there, and that the police saw Ralph, here, go into the wood. Some one must have warned your father, for he managed to get out, and got off in the pony andtrap they had left. They didn't say it was Lord Elgert's, though. Elgert at once jumped at it that it was you, Ralph, did the warning, because you are Charlton's chum. He says it is additional proof that you two had that note, and he is making a jolly lot about it; though half the fellows, and more than half, are strong on your side, and say that if it is true, they would have done the same thing. Elgert says that the police inspector is ready to knock your head off for the way in which you cheated him."
"Is he, though!" laughed Ralph. "Well, Warren, as you know so much, we may as well tell you all about it, when we have time—with one exception, though. You must not ask us where we took Mr. Charlton, or where we hid him. That is our secret. The rest you may know. By the way, I wonder how Elgert will like it if he knows that it was I drove off in that trap?"
"You! What a prime joke! I say, Ralph, what a chap you are! Come along, and let us get in!"
That the story had got about was very clear, for curious glances were cast at the pair as they crossed the playground with the monitor; and then a group of juniors, led by Tinkle, suddenly piped up—
For he's a jolly good fellow,For he's a jolly good fellow!
For he's a jolly good fellow,For he's a jolly good fellow!
For he's a jolly good fellow,For he's a jolly good fellow!
For he's a jolly good fellow,
For he's a jolly good fellow!
Elgert, standing near them, turned with a frown.
"Shut up that howling, you young cubs!" hegrowled fiercely; but from the other side of the playground, and from the Fifths, the same words came.
Elgert turned and went into school. He was furious. He had come down thinking that he had a good chance of getting Ralph into disgrace, and here the fellows were actually praising him! It was gall to Horace Elgert; and, through the window, still came the sounds of the refrain being shouted below—
For he's a jolly good fellow,And so say all of us!
For he's a jolly good fellow,And so say all of us!
For he's a jolly good fellow,And so say all of us!
For he's a jolly good fellow,
And so say all of us!
"I say, you two chaps, what are you going to do this afternoon?"
The question was asked by Tom Warren, as Ralph and Charlton stood at the entrance to the playground.
Another week had passed, and it had been a delightful one for both Ralph and his chum, now that they were friends again. For these two, so different in natures, liked each other very much; and now that the trouble was gone, they were drawn still closer together. Of course they were. Had not Ralph proved what a staunch good fellow he could be? and had not Charlton shown that he was not only innocent of stealing that note, but that he was a loyal, true son, doing what he could to help his unfortunate father?
It was good to see how the boys had come round and how they regarded Ralph as a comrade to be proud of; though Elgert and Dobson and the set whom they led, glowered and sneered, and said unkind things that hurt no one, and were treated with contempt.
And Saturday had come, and the boys were preparing to set out for their homes, and Ralph had a bundleof books under his arm, for he meant to have another quiet read that evening. The Newlet would want a lot of working for, and, since he had entered, he meant to do all he could to win success.
"What are you going to do?" said Warren; and the pair confessed that they had made no particular plans.
"I cannot spare very much time, anyway," said Ralph. "I want to put in a few hours' work to-night."
"You will go and make yourself silly if you do too much," answered Tom Warren. "All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy, you know. Will you both meet me after you have had lunch—say about one o'clock—and we will go for a ramble?"
"Where?" asked Charlton. "Anywhere in particular?"
"I will tell you a nice walk. Let us go over the moor, and past Great Stow, out to Crab Tree Hill. It is jolly out there; and there are some lovely butterflies in the chalk there."
"Butterflies in chalk?" said Ralph, raising his brows in wonder; and Warren laughed.
"You kite! I mean that it is chalk country all round there, and the butterflies keep to it—fritillaries and skippers and browns; and we can find some grass snakes there."
"Don't like snakes," said Ralph decisively, thinking of the terrible species which he had known in hisyounger days—snakes whose bite means certain death. "Well, I don't mind coming. Will you go, Fred?" And he turned to Charlton, who nodded his assent.
"That is all right, then," answered Warren. "I will be over for you just after one, and we can pick up Charlton on our way and—— Hallo! what is the row?"
The three lads turned. A scrimmage of some kind was evidently in progress at the other side of the playground, for there came some hoots and groans, and, mingling with the noise, a shrill cry of pain.
"You great coward, let go my arm!"
"Dobson and Co.," muttered Warren; and the three darted across to the scene of the trouble; and there they found Tinkle and Green, standing defiant and somewhat tearful, confronted by Dobson, Elgert and some of their cronies, while a scattered crowd of angry juniors kept in the safe background, hurling taunting jeers at the bigger boys.
"I will half kill you, you cheeky little beggar!" they heard Dobson say to Tinkle. He had got hold of his arm, and, according to his favourite fashion, was twisting it painfully. "I will teach you to cheek me! I suppose it is that beggar Rexworth who has taught you to do it."
But then Dobson stopped. He had thought that Ralph was gone; and even as he spoke, he caught sight of him. It certainly was very awkward for Dobson, and before he knew what to say next, Ralphhad quietly but firmly removed Tinkle from his grasp.
"You suppose wrong, Dobson," he said calmly. "I should not encourage any junior to cheek a senior; but I won't see a junior bullied, and you will please let that youngster go."
"I didn't cheek him!" cried Tinkle—"leastways, not until he kicked me. I was standing here talking to Jimmy Green, when he and Elgert came up; and Elgert shied a stone at Green's head, and Dobson kicked me—the great coward! Let him stand up fair, and I will fight him myself."
"Oh, no, you won't, sonny!" laughed Tom Warren. "You will clear off, and get home at once. No fight if you please."
"It seems to me," sneered Elgert, "that this school is to be run by Rexworth and Co. You look here, Warren. It is out of school hours; and if you think that we are all going to stand being ruled by you especially when you are under the thumb of such a fellow as that—well, all I have to say is that you are jolly well mistaken."
"I mean to say," was Warren's calm reply, "that there is not going to be any fighting here; and I mean to say that we have the Head's own orders to stop any more bullying of juniors. There has been a great deal too much of it in the past."
"And if we don't obey, you will run sneaking to the Head?"
"Oh, no, I won't," came the answer. "I will giveyou a jolly good licking myself. If it has got to come, let us get it over. Here are I and Rexworth—Charlton don't count. If you want to see which side is the best, just you——"
"Just you all clear off; and you, Warren, don't make an ass of yourself," said a pleasant voice; and Kesterway, the head monitor of the school, appeared upon the scene. "Off you go, now! And you look here, Elgert. You may be an honourable, and a lord's son, but that is no reason why you should behave like a prig. You keep a civil tongue in your head, or you may get into trouble."
Elgert and his companions turned away, for it did not do to defy the authority of Kesterway; but he muttered as he went—
"Only wait a little while. I will get some of my own back. If I don't make Ralph Rexworth suffer for it, I will know the reason why."
But two youthful individuals, as they also walked away—Tinkle and Green to wit—discussed darkly the chances of getting equal with Dobson and Elgert.
"I vote we tell about that note," said Tinkle; but Green shook his head.
"What is the good? Suppose they denied it, how could we prove it? You bet, there would be no chance of old Brown owning up. And besides, wouldn't it be telling that we had broken bounds? No; we had best wait a while, Tinkle, and presently the chance will come."
"S'pose we sent 'em a what-you-call-it letter?"
"What is that?" demanded Green; and Tinkle answered lucidly—
"You know. One of them sort that don't come from nowhere, and is writ by nobody."
"Annie nonimus," was Green's suggestion; and Tinkle nodded.
"Yes, that's him. We might do that; and write on it, 'Who stole the five-pound note?' or 'What price Brown's cake shop?' or something."
"We'd best do nothing of the kind," was Green's crushing answer. "That wouldn't do no good, and it would make 'em think that something was known. No, Tinkle; you leave 'em alone; and presently they will make a slip, and then we can have 'em."
"I'd like to help Rexworth, though," murmured Tinkle.
"But he don't want no help now. He's cleared about the note. No one thinks that he took it, not for a moment. It wouldn't help Rexworth. The thing is dropped, and we'd best leave it alone for the time."
Meanwhile, Ralph and his friends took their way homeward, ignorant alike of the threats of their foes or the good wishes of the juniors; and after lunch was over, Warren in accordance with his promise, called for Ralph.
"Hallo! got a new gardener here?" he remarked, as he caught sight of an old man who was sweepingthe path; and Ralph thought how little Warren guessed who that man really was.
They set off in high spirits, and after calling for Charlton, they started upon their long ramble. They rattled on at a good pace, and got away to the hills, and then—it was most provoking—great dark clouds had been rolling up, and suddenly, with a roar of thunder and a blaze of lightning, the storm burst, and it rained—gracious, how it did rain!
It is not pleasant to be caught in a violent shower at the best of times, but to be caught when you are away from all shelter is decidedly unpleasant.
"Wherever can we shelter?" cried Charlton in dismay, as the three bolted along, with heads bent down and collars turned up. "This is cheerful!"
"I say," suddenly suggested Warren, "there is a thick preserve over by the road; I noticed it as we came along. Of course, it will be trespassing and we might get into trouble, but I suggest making for it. We can get some sort of shelter under the trees, and we may stumble upon a shooting hut or a keeper's cottage, and if we explain why we have come, they surely will not mind."
"Cannot help it if they do," said Ralph desperately. "We cannot go on in this, and it's five miles into Stow, if it's a yard. Show us the way Warren, and be quick about it."
With a whoop and a yell, off scudded Warren, the other two close in his rear, while the thunder growledand grumbled and the lightning flickered, and the sky grew so black that things promised to get worse instead of better.
They struck the path for which Warren was making; and there, sure enough, a little farther along, divided from the road by a meadow and a stout gate, the tall trees of a dark covert waved to and fro. It might not mean much shelter, but it would mean some, and with a scramble they were over that gate.
"This is better," panted Warren. "It is some sort of a screen. I am jolly well drenched!"
"I wish that I could get a cup of warm cocoa or tea," shivered Charlton. "I got hot running, and now it strikes horribly cold."
"Let's push on a bit," suggested Ralph. "We are trespassing, and we may as well be hanged for a sheep as for a lamb. Perhaps we shall find shelter somewhere. Come on, you two, and keep to these open paths. If you get right into that undergrowth, you may do some damage—disturb some nests, or something."
"Right you are, Ralph. I don't think it is much good, though; there seems no sign of life here."
"I will soon see if there is." Ralph paused as he spoke. He put his hand to his mouth and gave a ringing call—one he had learnt from the Indians on the plains. "If any one is about, they will hear that; and, at any rate, they cannot say that we are trying to hide from——"
He stopped and started back, turning as white asdeath; for from somewhere, ringing through the silences of that preserve, there came a sound, muffled, but clear. It was Ralph's call repeated!
What wonder that he trembled. What wonder that he looked so white. There was but one other person whom he knew who would answer that call in that way; and that one person was his own father!
Just that one cry, ringing wild and plaintive through the wood; and then silence, broken by a loud, angry rumble of thunder.
Ralph stood there trembling, too agitated to speak; and his two chums turned anxiously towards him, bewildered at the change which had come over him.
"Ralph, old fellow, why, whatever is it? What has come to you?" they asked; and he replied in hoarse, trembling tones—
"That call! Did you not hear it? There is only one person who would give that, and he is my own father."
For a moment they were staggered by his answer; then Warren said gently—
"But, Ralph, how can it be your father? It was only the echo, old fellow."
"It was not the echo. It was his voice. Listen—try and hear where it comes from!" And once again, through the dripping wood, he sent the Indian cry.
"Now, listen—listen!" he said; and they waited, but no sound came in answer—nothing but the shiverof the trees, the patter of the rain, and the distant growling of the storm.
"There, you see. It must have been the echo!" said Warren; but Ralph shook his head.
"Do not be silly, Warren. If it was the echo it would be heard again; but we heard nothing."
Which direction did it come from? They forgot about the wet and the storm; they forgot everything in the excitement of the moment. Which direction had the cry come from?
Warren declared that it sounded as if it was under ground; Charlton said he fancied that it came from high up, as if some one was in the air; and Ralph fancied that it was straight ahead.
"What shall we do?" was the question of Warren and Ralph answered—
"I am going forward. I mean to search this plantation from end to end, if I am trespassing twenty times over."
So on the three went, and again and again did they pause while Ralph uttered his wild call, but no answer was heard.
They pushed on, their hearts full of excitement, until they emerged from the trees with almost startling suddenness. The plantation was nothing like so thick as they had thought—it was a mere belt of wood, surrounding a neglected lawn; and in the centre of this, encircled by a wall, stood the very last thing they would have expected to find there—a house.
A house; but so dreary, desolate looking. All the windows stared blank and empty, and were encrusted with dirt and grime. Not a trace of smoke curled up from the chimney-stack, not a sound of life was heard. It seemed empty, desolate, drear; and the masses of creeper, hanging down and swinging in the breath of the storm, only intensified the desolate picture it made.
The three lads, standing there with every nerve thrilled by a strange, inexplicable excitement, surveyed the place, and looked at each other in questioning silence, until Warren said softly—
"Well, I am blest! Who would have thought of finding a house here?"
"Where are you going, Ralph?" cried Charlton, for Ralph was moving forward; and he replied firmly—
"To that house. I mean to see if any one lives here."
Right up to the wall walked Ralph. It was a high wall, and only the upper part of the house could be seen above it. But they found a gate on the other side; and, without a moment's hesitation, Ralph pushed it open, entered the garden, and, walking up to the door, lifted the knocker.
With what a dull, hollow sound did it fall! A ghostly sound, that echoed through the house, with that peculiar vibration which is heard when a place is empty.
"There is no one here," whispered Warren, after apause—somehow they found themselves speaking in whispers. "The house is empty."
Ralph, for answer, knocked again, a louder and longer summons. "Listen!" he said; and from somewhere they heard a faint sound, as of a door being shut.
"It's only the wind, making a door slam," was Warren's comment. But, for the third time, Ralph sent his call resounding—there was no mistake about that knock—if any one was in the place they must hear it, for the door fairly creaked beneath the blows.
Another pause, a shuffling noise from within, the sound of some one coming from distant passages, then the unfastening of bolts and chains, and the door was opened a little space, while a man, big, burly, and brutal looking, filled the doorway, and barred their entrance—an altogether evil-looking, cruel-faced man, who, scowling upon the three lads, demanded in gruff tones what they wanted, and how it was they were here.
Just for the moment the three were taken aback; or, brave as they might be, still they were only lads, and that scowling presence was certainly very ominous. But Ralph plucked up his courage, and answered that they were three lads from the distant school, and that they had been overtaken by the storm and were seeking shelter.
The man had stood glaring from one to the other asthe explanation was given; and then he said, in the gruffest of accents—
"Well, and what is all this to me? That is no reason why you should trespass on my land, and come knocking at my door. I don't want to know that you are getting wet. It's no interest of mine, is it?"
"But we are seeking for shelter," persisted Ralph. "Surely you will not refuse to give that to us?" And he made a slight attempt to push his way in. The man gave him a shove that sent him almost off the step.
"Here, none of that sort of thing," he said, "or you will be sorry for it, my young bantam. You don't think that you can shove your way into my premises. You three just take yourselves off. You are trespassing on my ground; and it's lucky for you that the dog is tied up, or he would tear you limb from limb. Hear him!" And he paused, as a deep, distant baying was heard from somewhere within. "He is a beauty big enough to eat you. You just get off as fast as you can. Clear! If you are here in five minutes time I will set the dog on you!" And he slammed the door, and left them standing there.
"What a particularly unpleasant person!" said Warren. "His politeness is only exceeded by his good looks. Come on, Ralph, it won't do any good to stand here; and I don't fancy a meeting with that loud-voiced brute we heard. He had got a bark like a bloodhound."
"We had better do as Warren says," added Charlton, a trifle timidly, for he could understand how badly Ralph must feel. "I know what you are thinking of. You want to see inside that house, but it is impossible now. If it is done at all, it would have to be some other time, when that man did not suspect us. Only I don't think that you are right. I don't see how you can be."
"I shall never rest until I have contrived some way of doing as you say," was Ralph's reply, and his face looked very resolute again. "That cry was raised by my father. He may not be there—I do not say he is, but somehow I dislike that man and distrust him. Let us go right through the grounds. Don't you understand, Warren? I want to see if there are any other places hidden away here. Who would have said a house like that was here; and who can say what other house may be here? You go back if you like, you and Charlton; I am going on."
"Then on we all go," was Warren's reply; and he and Charlton accompanied Ralph.
They crossed the lawn and went out by the gate, and Ralph was conscious of the face of that man peering at them through one of the upper windows. He might be a recluse, a miser, a madman—that seemed the most probable thing; and yet, yet somehow Ralph must get inside that house.
They pushed their way on into the wood again, making for the opposite side to that on which they hadentered; and then Ralph's words that they did not know what else they might find were proved to be very true, for, upon its farther side, bordering upon a stretch of wild open land, they came upon a ruined building. It looked as if at one time it had been a chapel, or monastery, or something of that sort; the pillars, the pointed windows, and the arched doors gave them that impression. It was a fairly large building, larger than the house they had left, and its crumbling walls were thickly overgrown with ivy. A mournful, silent ruin it was, where only the shapes and shadows of those whose feet had once trodden its stone floors now seemed to lurk; but it was a shelter, and in Ralph went.
"I don't care for twenty men and dogs," he said resolutely. "I am not going on in this rain, and I am going to have a look in this ruin."
"But you do not think that you will find any trace of your father there, Ralph," protested Warren.
"I don't, old man; I only hope for shelter. Come on. If the worst comes we will get on the stairs and drive off the dog with stones. Come on."
It looked gloomy outside—it looked more gloomy within, as they passed in through the yawning space where once a stout oak door had been. How their footsteps echoed, and how great piles of damp, decaying leaves lay in the corners, and ugly lizards scuttled away as they went on. But, for all that, after the first disinclination was got over, there was somethingvery exciting in wandering about the ruin, exploring this way and that, going down into dark, oozy places underground, or clambering up into the old, deserted turret above, at the no small risk of breaking one's neck. They wandered here and there, until at last a single ray of sunlight, falling through a broken casement, awoke them to the fact that the storm was over, and that they could get on their way again.
"We had better go, Ralph," said Charlton. "I must, for think how mother will feel if I am not home when she expects me."
"Well, I don't think it is much good staying," Warren added. "It seems impossible that your father should be about here, Ralph. That sound was an echo."
"I suppose it must have been something of that sort," Ralph admitted reluctantly. "There seems to be no other explanation. You must forgive me for seeming stupid; but, you see, it—it is my father!" He stopped and Charlton pressed his hand sympathetically, while Warren said hastily—
"Oh, of course, old fellow, I understand; and I only wish that we could have found something out. What a stunning place this ruin would be for hiding in! You could play hide-and-seek about it for a week!"
They emerged from the place, and speedily were in the public road again and walking, with their faces in a homeward direction. But as they went Ralph turned, and once again he uttered that wild signal cry; and then, then—was it an echo, or was it indeed a humanvoice?—after a pause, faint and low the sound came back once more—whether from earth, or from air, they knew not; but the cry was taken up and repeated note for note.