Into the river Ralph Rexworth went
"Into the river Ralph Rexworth went after his foe." p. 138
It was a hard fight, but Ralph had the advantage of being carried by the current right down to the struggling boy, and, ere long, he had reached him, was gripping his arm, and had commenced the struggle back to the bank, only to find that Warren was by his side ready to give his help.
And between them they managed to get Elgertback to the shore. Not without a big battle, for the water pulled like giant hands, seeking to sweep them all away. They had to swim in a slanting course, and even then, ere the bank was reached, they were perilously near to the spot over which the water took its leap, and where the notice-board with the big "Danger" was so prominently fixed.
But they managed it; and Elgert was hurried off by his friends, while Warren and Ralph, soaked as they were, had to race back to Mr. St. Clive's, with Irene behind them urging them not to stop for her, but to get back as quickly as ever they could.
Only to think of it! Ralph Rexworth had actually rescued, with the help of Warren, his enemy Horace Elgert from almost certain death!
Ralph Rexworth was inconsolable—he had lost his pocket-book. Now, a lost pocket-book may not seem a very big thing to grieve over, seeing that another one can be bought for a reasonable sum; and yet Ralph did grieve, and grieve greatly.
For this pocket-book was not like other pocket-books that might be bought. It was one which his father had given to him—the very last present which he had ever received from him—and it contained, amongst other things, and the greatest treasure of them all, a portrait of his darling mother, and the letter which his father had written to him on the day he made the present. What wonder, then, that a boy who loved his parents as Ralph Rexworth had done should grieve, and grieve greatly, over such a loss?
He found out the loss shortly after he reached Mr. St. Clive's, after rescuing Horace Elgert. He had been looking at some portraits of Irene, which had only just arrived from the photographers, and she hadgiven him one to keep for himself. What should he do with such a gift but put it into his pocket-book—and his pocket-book was not there!
Irene saw the change which came over his face when he had discovered the loss, and she asked him what was the matter. His face went quite white, so that Tom Warren, looking at him, wondered why such a manly, sensible chap should look so bad over such a little thing.
But then Tom Warren had father and mother living, and plenty of friends around; so that made all the difference. He did not understand what it was to be all alone in the world, or how people like that treasured every relic of friends and happy days that had been.
"Perhaps it tumbled from your pocket when you threw your coat off down by the river?" he suggested. "Let us go and have a look for it." And the two boys set off together.
"He does seem cut up," the monitor reflected, as they ran on; for Ralph hardly had a word to say now, so anxious was he.
But, no—no pocket-book was to be found. They searched every foot of the towing-path, and then went into the wood, to the very spot where they had rested that afternoon; but not a sign of the book could they see, and at last Warren declared that it was no use looking further.
"You cannot have dropped it anywhere about here,"he said, "unless some one has seen it and picked it up. Had it got your name inside?"
"Yes," answered Ralph; "but then they won't know where to bring it. How will they know who Ralph Rexworth is, or where he lives? I am afraid I shall never see it again; and—and—" And Ralph broke off, unable to finish his sentence.
"Oh, come, don't be like that, Rexworth!" protested Warren. "At any rate, you can advertise for it and offer a reward; and any one who found it would be only too glad to bring it back and get the money. An old pocket-book is not so great a find that any one would want to keep it from you."
"No; it is only of value to me," admitted Ralph, giving one last vain look round. "Well, it is no use staying here now; and it is beginning to grow dark. I suppose that we had better go back."
The St. Clives were quite anxious to know whether the book had been recovered when the two boys once more reached the house, and they were full of sympathy when Ralph sadly shook his head.
"I suppose you are quite sure that you brought it away from school with you, Ralph?" said Mr. St. Clive; and that brought just one little ray of hope. Ralph could not be quite sure. He thought that he had done so—he always took it from the pocket of the coat he took off and transferred it to that of the one he was going to wear. He had taken off his school-jacket when he left that afternoon, andthough he felt nearly sure that he had done so, he could not be quite certain that he had taken his pocket-book from the pocket.
But he felt so anxious and worried that all the pleasure of the evening was gone; and when Warren finally said good-night and ran off to his own home, it was still with the reflection that Ralph Rexworth must indeed be a queer sort of chap, or else there must be some extra special reason for his worrying over that pocket-book in the way he did.
And when Warren had gone, Irene came and sat by her friend's side, being, indeed, a staunch little friend herself, and wanting to do something to comfort him; and she whispered again how she sympathized with him, and that perhaps the book was still at school, or, again, if it were really lost, it would be sure to be found by some one who would be likely to see the advertisement which Mr. St. Clive said should be printed, and then they would certainly bring it back to him.
And then she talked of the deed which Ralph had done that day, and how glad she was that he had been the means of saving Horace Elgert; and how, in returning good for evil, he would be sure to conquer; and just for the moment Ralph forgot his loss, and was interested.
"I could not do anything else, Irene," he said. "When it comes to saving a fellow's life, one cannot stop to consider whether they are friends or enemies.It had to be done, though it has cost me enough," he added sadly.
"You think that you lost your pocket-book then?" she said; and he nodded.
"Yes. I must have jerked it out of my pocket when I threw my coat off."
"Well, then some of the other boys will most likely have found it, and they will bring it back to you on Monday."
"I hope, if they do find it, they will not open it and get playing about with its contents," he said anxiously; and she laughed.
"Why, how silly, Ralph! How can they possibly find out to whom it belongs unless they open it? Why should you mind that? You have nothing in it that you are afraid for people to see?"
"Oh, no, no; of course not!" he answered quickly. It was not that. He could not explain it to Irene—he could hardly understand it himself—but the idea of other hands touching that, and other eyes prying at its treasured contents, was very repugnant to Ralph's feelings.
The next morning Ralph was up early, almost as soon as it was light, and back in the neighbourhood of Becket Weir; and there, all alone in the freshness of the early day, he hunted this way and that, far more carefully than he had done the previous evening, but with as little success. There was not a trace of the pocket-book, but—he paused, his nerves tingling—some one had driven along the towing-path. The tracks were perfectly plain upon the dew-damp earth; and the tracks were those of a light cart which was drawn by a horse lame in its left fore foot—the same tracks which he connected with his father's fate, and which he had not seen for some time now!
He stood looking round. It was Sunday—the day of peace and rest and gentle thoughts, and yet for the moment his heart filled with hard ones. He must follow these tracks! They might not lead to the recovery of his father—alas! he could not but believe now that father was dead—but they would lead to the man who had killed him; and then—then——
Sweet and low the bells came from the distant church, ringing for the first early morning service. They seemed to whisper messages to Ralph; but for once he turned a deaf ear to their voices. He must follow these tracks, Sunday or no Sunday.
Along the path he went, his eyes fixed on the ground—past the roaring, tumbling weir, and the marks grew clearer. Hope rose in his excited heart. This was more in accordance with his tastes and desires. It was like being back on the long, rolling prairies. He would find out the truth now—at least, he would find out who this man was who drove a lame horse!
Vain hopes, vain thoughts! Clear and unbroken, the marks ran until the towing-path turned out on the main road just by Becket Bridge, and there, on the hard, stony road, all tracks were lost. It wasfailure again; and a sudden rush of sorrow came to Ralph, a sudden sense of disappointment and loneliness; and sitting down there on the stone coping of the wall that separated the road from the river, Ralph Rexworth burst into tears. He could not help it—he felt so very depressed and weary; and not even the thoughts of Mr. St. Clive and Irene could drive that depression away.
But still the bells rang, and their sweet voices thrust themselves upon him. I am not sure that a good cry is not a good thing sometimes, even for a boy. He felt all the better now, and he thrust back his weakness and squared his shoulders, turning once more for the house, lest his absence, being noticed, the family might wonder what had become of him.
But his adventures were not quite over for the morning; for, as he went back, he became aware that far off to the right, just where the spinney came creeping down to the common, there were two persons walking—a man and a boy. He could see them quite plainly; and though they were so far off, his eyes, accustomed in the past to be used on the sweeping plains, where safety, and even life, may depend upon keen sight, distinguished the boy as his former chum, Charlton—Charlton and a man—who but his father? And again came the thought, in spite of all the reasoning which Mr. St. Clive had used—was there any connexion between that man, the tracks of the lame horse, and his own dear father's disappearance?
Very slowly did Ralph return to his benefactor's house. He was restless, anxious; all the stormy feelings seemed to have returned. And all this had come through the loss of his pocket-book!
That Sunday was a hard one for Ralph. Even the quiet church, with its solemn service, its sweet music, and its glorious coloured windows, did not seem quite the same to-day. It was as though Satan was combating with him, whispering that it was no use striving to go Christ's way—that the road was too hard and the service too ill-paid—that it was far better to give up trying to be noble and good and just be as other boys were—as Dobson and Elgert, and that sort.
Indeed, the temptation came that it was just downright silly to go to school at all, when he could go back to his old life and live in all the wild freedom of the plains. So Ralph was tempted; and it seemed as if he could get no good from the day at all—as if all striving to do so were in vain—and as if he would have been just as well if he had stopped away from church altogether.
Even Irene did not seem able to cheer him up. Despairing thoughts, dark thoughts, doubting thoughts—one after another they came; for Ralph was like Christian inPilgrim's Progress—he was in the dark valley, and all manner of evil things seemed to assail him as he journeyed.
Perhaps Mr. St. Clive understood—he seemed tounderstand most things—for that night, when the family knelt at prayers together, he prayed especially for all who had special grief to bear and special temptations to endure; and somehow that prayer seemed to do Ralph more good than anything else had done. It seemed to pull him up, and to tell him that, let him be tempted as he might, conquest was possible if the temptation was met in the strength which comes through prayer.
Monday morning came at last—the first Monday morning when he had really felt anxious to get back to school; and off he set, promising to write to his friends and let them know whether the pocket-book was safe at the school in the pocket of his other coat.
He met Warren on the road, and the monitor asked him if the book was found; but Ralph shook his head in token that it was still missing.
The school was reached at last, and Ralph hurried across the playground and darted up to the dormitory. His coat was in his box. He felt in the pocket; the book was there—safe! There had been no need to worry! He had left it behind him, and it had been safe all the time!
Warren had followed him, and Charlton was there, and half-a-dozen of the others. Charlton had taken no notice of him when he ran in.
"There you are, you kite!" laughed Warren. "You left it here all the time, and you have been worrying yourself to fiddle-strings, as if it contained the mostimportant things in the world, and just trembling in your shoes for fear any one should find it and open it, and——"
Warren stopped short. A boy, running by, accidentally pushed against Ralph and sent the book flying from his hands. It fell at Warren's feet and burst open; and from it there fluttered on the floor, in plain view of every boy there—a five-pound note!
A five-pound note!
There it lay, face upwards; and for a moment there was silence in the dormitory. Every eye was turned upon the boy, who stood staring at that accusing piece of paper, as if turned to stone. If ever any one looked guilty, Ralph Rexworth did at that moment. It was so unexpected, so inexplicable—and worst of all, though not a word was spoken, he seemed to feel what his companions thought, to know that they looked upon him as a liar and a thief.
As for Warren, he stood with open mouth and staring eyes, as if he could not believe his senses. So this was why Ralph had been so anxious about finding his pocket-book! But when Elgert, who had also come into the room, took in the scene and muttered scornfully something about "Like father like son," Warren turned on him savagely, with a contemptuous—
"Shut up, you cad! You, at any rate, should be the last one to speak, seeing that he saved your life on Saturday." And at that sharp reproof Elgert shrank away, abashed for once.
Then Warren stooped and picked up the note, for it still lay there, and every one seemed too bewildered to move—and he held it out to Ralph.
"Rexworth," he said, in low, grave tones, "this was in your pocket-book. It don't want much talking about, you can see what it looks like against you. But I want to say, and I feel that I must say it, I cannot believe that a chap like you can really be guilty of such a horribly mean thing. You and I have been good chums, and if any one had asked me my opinion, I should have said that there was no chap in the school I could more honour and trust. But this thing has got to be explained, and I must do my duty as a monitor, even if it gets my best chum into trouble. I must tell the Head of this. If I did not, some one else would, and it is my duty to do it."
"You don't think that I stole it," faltered Ralph. It seemed so horrible that it unnerved him, and made him lose his firm resolution for the moment. It would be only for a little while: presently the old grit would come back, and he would be firm enough. But the greatest may flinch for the moment—recoiling from the horror of the accusation or suspicion—and others may put down their agitation to a wrong cause, think it the evidence of a guilty conscience, and condemn them untried.
"You don't think that I stole it?" he faltered, as if pleading that Warren would not think so poorly as that of him. But the monitor replied gravely:
"I don't think anything about it, Rexworth. I don't want to think, for if I did, I should think wrong, perhaps. I can only act on the thing as I know it. You lost your pocket-book, you said. You were in a terrible mess over the loss. You, yourself, said to me that you hoped no one would look inside it if they picked it up; and I, with my own eyes, saw this note fall out of it just now, the note I suppose Mr. Delermain lost, and which you declared that you had not seen. I must tell the Head. I only wish that it were not part of my work to have to do so."
Then the old resolution came back. Ralph's self had not deserted him, and he spoke, quietly and calmly, so that all the dormitory could hear his troubled tones.
"Thank you, Warren. I value your friendship, which makes doing your duty so hard a thing for you, and I quite understand that you cannot give me that friendship now, while this thing is over me. I know it looks very bad against me. I have some enemy here, and that enemy has been just a little too clever for me."
Just as he spoke his eyes caught sight of Charlton, standing looking so white and scared, and the thought came: Had he done this? He seemed to avoid his gaze. Ralph paused only a moment, and then went on—
"There is one thing, however, that I can do to prove that I value your friendship, and that is take the task of speaking from you. If you choose to wait until after prayers, I will tell the Head myself, in open school, and you can all hear me do it."
Warren hesitated for a moment. He hated to have to do the task, and if Ralph would tell himself, it would do just as well.
"Very well," he said, "if you will do that, I have no objection; and, look here, you fellows," he added, turning to the others, "do, for mercy's sake, keep this to yourselves, all of you; or it will be all over the school, and it is not a nice thing to have connected with our Form. We may have been a bit wild, but we have never had a thing like this before, and I would have done anything rather than have had it now."
He turned away as he spoke, and the others followed slowly, leaving Ralph there alone—alone with his pocket-book, and the note which had come from it.
No, not quite alone, for Charlton still stood there regarding him with the same half-frightened, half sorrowful look; and at last Ralph, becoming aware of his presence, turned and looked at him.
"Well," he said, "what do you want? Why don't you clear off, like the rest have done?"
The boy backed away from him, as if almost frightened.
"And it was you, all the time," he said, in low tones. "You, whom I thought so noble and good! You took it, and then you dared to ask me if I had taken it, to hint that it was me. Oh, Ralph Rexworth, I did not think that there was any one as mean as you."
Ralph regarded him gravely for a little while, and then he said—
"And suppose that I still think that you took it, Charlton? Suppose that I ask you whether you put this note in my pocket-book?—for some one put it there, that is quite certain. Is this done in spite, because of what I said to you on Friday?"
Then Charlton started forward, as if beside himself with anger.
"How dare you, Ralph Rexworth—how dare you! Is that the way in which you are going to try and get out of it? Try and put it on to my shoulders! Ralph Rexworth, I stayed here when the others went because I was going to offer you something—going to offer to take the blame and seem to be the thing which you accuse me of being. The boys all look upon me as a thief's son, and it would not make much difference if I were turned out. I was going to offer to say that I had done this, and put it into your book. Going to do it because you were kind to me, and, even after what you said, you tried to make friends again. I would have done it, Rexworth, but I will not now. If you can be as mean as that, I will not do it."
"Hold on a bit, Charlton," answered Ralph. "If you had any idea of that sort, I thank you for your kindness. But you don't suppose that I would be a party to a thing of that kind, do you? Let you tell a lie and get the blame, that I might escape trouble!Not me! If you have done it, own up or hold your tongue, as you like. But if you have not done it, you shan't say that you have, and that is all about it." And he added, as Charlton turned away—
"If I have wronged you with my suspicions, I am sorry. I know how easy it is to be wrongly judged."
"And you will find how hard it is to bear," the other boy said, and then he, too, turned away, leaving Ralph considerably perplexed. Had Charlton taken the note and placed it in his pocket-book? After all, Ralph hardly thought so, it was not like him to do that, and yet—yet some one must have done this wicked thing, some one who wanted to get him into trouble!
But there was no more time to spare, the bell for prayers was ringing, and he went down to his place.
In spite of Warren's pleading, it was evident that the story had leaked out; for, as Ralph appeared, there was a considerable amount of subdued hissing and groaning, which made the masters look up in surprise, and the monitors to call silence in angry tones.
Then the Head appeared, and prayers were read. Poor Ralph! It was harder than ever to attend to worship now. He felt nervous at the ordeal before him, and yet he felt also that to seem nervous was to seem guilty—and he was innocent! That thought calmed him. The service was over, the Head was just going to dismiss the school when Ralph rose in his seat, and said in clear tones—
"Please, sir, may I say something in open school? It is something of importance, something connected with the banknote which Mr. Delermain lost."
The words created quite a sensation amongst those who were ignorant of what had transpired, and the doctor answered—
"Would it not be better to speak with myself first, Rexworth? Then I can decide whether what you have to communicate should be made public."
"I would rather speak here, sir. In fact, I have promised to do so. It only concerns myself, please, sir."
"Then you may speak. Be brief and plain, and let us hear what you have to say."
So Ralph spoke, turning half to the Head, half to the school; and describing how he had thought that he took his pocket-book with him and how he had found it in his other coat, when he got back that morning; and how, also, the five-pound note had been seen to tumble from it, when it fell on the floor.
"I know, sir," he said, in conclusion, "that the thing looks as bad as bad can be, and that if every one here believes me to be a thief, it is only natural; but I can only say, sir, what I have said from the beginning. I am quite innocent. I never saw that banknote from the time when Mr. Delermain laid it on his desk until this morning, when it fell from my pocket-book and Warren picked it up."
The doctor listened in silence, his keen eyes fixedupon the face of the lad before him; and Dr. Beverly felt perfectly certain that Ralph Rexworth was speaking the truth.
And yet, if that were so, it meant not only that some other boy was a thief, but also that a boy must be deliberately trying to get Rexworth wrongly accused; and that seemed a very dreadful thing in the eyes of the noble, upright master of Marlthorpe.
"You say you were under the impression that you took your pocket-book home with you, Rexworth?" he said, when the boy had concluded; and Ralph replied—
"Yes, sir. I can say yes to that, though I suppose that I must be mistaken, seeing that I found it safely in my coat-pocket when I went to the dormitory the first thing this morning."
A low murmur went round the school. Some of the boys were evidently convinced that Ralph was guilty, and that he was only striving to screen himself, and their youthful hearts rebelled against such behaviour.
"Hiss, hiss!" "Thief, thief!" ran round, and Ralph started as though he had been struck by a whip.
The doctor struck his bell sharply, and silence followed. The offenders looked somewhat dismayed at their own audacity.
"Silence, there!" he cried. "Is it the custom to call a man guilty before even the whole evidence is heard? What Rexworth says is very true. The facts do seemto unite to condemn him, and yet it is possible that those facts are unworthy of credence."
"Whatever does the Head favour that fellow for?" muttered Elgert, to one of his own friends. But he received a look of disgust and an impatient—
"Oh, shut up! Didn't he pull you out of the river?" That was the second time that morning Horace Elgert had been so rebuked.
"This," the Head continued, "demands the most careful, searching investigation. If Rexworth is guilty, I shall be the last to screen him; if he is innocent, it is but my duty to strive to establish that innocence. If any boy has been wicked enough to deliberately do this for the very purpose of getting this lad into trouble, I most earnestly entreat that boy to think of what he has done, and to confess his fault before this goes farther, and——"
The Head paused and looked round, the door was opened, and Lord Elgert had entered, just in time to overhear his last words.
The entrance of Lord Elgert interrupted the serious business being carried on; and somewhat impatient, even if curious, glances were directed towards him as he walked up to Dr. Beverly.
"I evidently come at an inopportune moment," the nobleman said, as he surveyed the scene before him; "and yet, perhaps, it is a fortunate interruption, if this lad is in trouble, as he seems to be"—and he nodded towards Ralph, who met his gaze with some coldness. "If my interruption is untimely I will withdraw." And he looked round inquiringly.
"We certainly are in the midst of a painful inquiry," replied the headmaster gravely. "I do not suppose that your visit is connected with it in any way."
"My visit is wholly and solely to thank Ralph Rexworth and Tom Warren for their bravery in rescuing my son last Saturday," was the reply.
And these words also caused something of a sensation, for, to the school at large the adventure at the river side was still unknown.
The Head himself had evidently not heard of it,for he looked surprised, and Lord Elgert continued—
"The two boys risked their lives to save that of my son, and I cannot be slow in coming to express my thanks and admiration. If Rexworth is in any trouble, I sincerely trust that any influence which I may have will be allowed to weigh in his favour."
"Perhaps we had better finish the business in hand first," suggested the Head. "It is connected with something of which I understand you have already been informed. A banknote which was missing some time ago has been recovered, and it was found in Ralph Rexworth's pocket-book."
"Dear, dear," said Lord Elgert, in grieved tones; "I am truly sorry—very sorry. But the temptations to which youth are exposed are great. It may be possible to overlook this unhappy matter for once——"
"Sir—sir," broke in Ralph, indignantly appealing to Dr. Beverly, "I know that you have always been kind to me, and I ask you to protect me from Lord Elgert's insults, lest I may forget myself and say words which I ought not to say. I want no friendship nor influence of his. I am not guilty, and I will not accept anything which will make it appear that I am. As to saving his son, Warren did as much as I did, and we could do no less for any one who was in danger, but I can honestly say that I wish that it had been any one else than Horace Elgert."
A very ugly look swept over the face of Lord Elgert, and he stepped back, remarking to Dr. Beverly—
"In that case, there is no need for me to interrupt you any longer—at any rate, so far as this boy is concerned."
"Now, attention!" said the Head; and the school straightened up again. "We have heard what Ralph Rexworth has to say, and some of you are evidently quite certain that he is guilty—that he is a thief, and, worse, a liar also—and that in face of what we have just heard. A boy who risks his life to save that of another is surely not so poor spirited as this. To believe that he is, is to believe that utter contradictions can be reconcilable."
"Please, sir," said one lad, rising in his place, "there is one thing which I should like to say."
"You may speak, sir," was the reply which he received; and the boy went on—
"Rexworth says that he thought he took his pocket-book away with him on Saturday. Please, sir, so he did, for I saw him take it from his other coat. He laid it on his bed for a minute, and then looked at a likeness in it, and afterwards put it into his pocket. So that if it was found here this morning, some one must have picked it up and brought it back."
"That is most important, if it is true," said the Head, while Ralph felt a rush of relief, and turned grateful eyes upon the speaker.
"Are you sure that he did put it into his pocket, and not either replace it in the coat from which he took it, or leave it lying on the bed?"
"Quite sure, sir," answered the lad confidently. "I saw him slip it into his pocket, and I wondered whose likeness it was that he carried about with him."
"It is my mother's, sir," said Ralph in a low voice.
And the Head nodded.
"Then, if this be true, a most wicked and evil plot has indeed been attempted—one so bad that, when I discover those who invented it, they shall surely be expelled. I am glad to have this testimony, although it was almost needless, for I am already quite certain that Ralph Rexworth is innocent—or, I had better say, that the evidence against him is valueless.
"In the first place, this pocket-book"—and he held it up—"has certainly been dropped, for its side is still stained with mud, and there is the mark of a boot, where some one has stepped upon it. In the next place—and this in itself is sufficient—a little mistake has been made. Is this note yours, Rexworth?"
And he turned, holding the banknote to the astonished Ralph.
"No, sir," the boy answered, not knowing what to make of this turn in affairs.
"Have you not such a thing as a five-pound note?" he was next asked.
And again he replied in the negative.
"Well," the Head went on, "it certainly is not the one lost by Mr. Delermain. Every banknote, as I suppose you know, has its own number, and this number is not that of the note lost, so that eithersome one has been kind enough to make Rexworth a present of a five-pound note, or else they have, by oversight, or through ignorance, put a note into his pocket-book to make it appear that he is a thief, not considering that it is as easily distinguished from the one which is missing, as if it were for a different amount, and——"
The doctor paused once more, for Ralph broke down. He had kept stiff enough so far; but now, as he heard that by no means could he be accused, and that some one must certainly have done this out of spite, his courage gave way, and he cried out—
"Why should any one want to harm me so? I have done nothing to make any one wish me evil. I am almost a stranger in England, and yet people try to do such things as that! I cannot stay, sir. I must ask Mr. St. Clive to send me back. England is a wicked place, and strangers are treated wickedly."
"Perhaps all England is not as bad as you think it, my lad," replied the Head kindly, "though I confess that your experiences are enough to make you form such an opinion. But do not decide hastily. I think that out of all such trials you will emerge a conqueror, and I know that such wicked attempts as have been made against you must, sooner or later, recoil upon the heads of those who make them."
"I sympathize with the lad," said Lord Elgert, "and I take no offence at the way in which he spoke. You remember, Rexworth, that if ever you want afriend you can come to me. I think your decision a wise one. This land is no place for you, and if you wish to return to your old home, I will myself provide all the money which is required. I want you to let me give you a gold watch—I have one for Warren, also."
"I will take nothing from you," cried the boy, so that all could hear. "I do not trust you. For some reason you seem to hate me, and I believe that you are at the bottom of all my troubles."
"Rexworth," said the Head, in grave remonstrance; and the boy checked himself.
"I am sorry, sir. I ought not to have spoken like that," he said penitently; "but Lord Elgert knows how impossible it is to take any favours from him, after what he has said about my father. All I desire of him is that he will leave me alone to fight my own battle."
Lord Elgert shrugged his shoulders.
"If that is so, I cannot help it," he said. "If you change your mind and need a friend, you can come to me. Now for Master Warren."
"Please, sir," said Warren rising, "I don't want anything for just doing my duty; and, anyhow, I could not take any present or reward without first asking my father's leave."
Lord Elgert bit his lip.
"It seems that I am to be deprived of the pleasure of giving any reward at all," he said. "In that case, I will intrude no longer, Dr. Beverly."
And with a sense of discomfiture Lord Elgert departed, and the Head again addressed the boys, enlarging upon the wickedness of what had been done, and once more pleading that the culprit, whoever he was, would act a man's part, own his wrong, and ask for mercy. Alas! there was no response to his pleading, and after a short pause the Head dismissed the school to its various classes.
But surely never before had Marlthorpe had so much to talk of; and never before did the masters allow more talking. For the thing was so bad, and the lessons to be learned so grave, that each master felt as if it were almost his duty to bring the subject before the boys, even to encourage them to talk of it, if in so doing those lads could be taught that honesty and truth must prevail in the end, and that deceit and wrong-doing must fail.
But oh, what a good thing it was for Ralph when Mr. Delermain shook hands with him.
"My dear boy," the master said, "none can rejoice more than I do that the clumsy attempt to fasten this theft on your shoulders has failed. Had it not been shown to be such an attempt, I should still have felt confident that it was so, being sure that you would not have done this thing. Still, it is well to have it proved to be but an attempt. Now, take my advice, and banish it from your mind. Do not even worry as to who did it, nor as to their motive. These things will manifest themselves in time, and until they dothey are not worth troubling about, nor allowing to interfere with your work, and particularly with your chances for the Newlet."
And Warren came to him also, as frank and good-hearted as could be.
"I suppose that you feel as if you wanted to punch my head," he said; "but I had to do my duty, old fellow, even if it were an unpleasant one."
And to him Ralph had answered—
"I should have thought precious little of you if you had not done it. Of course, you could not have done anything different from what you did."
Charlton said nothing—only he looked at Ralph wistfully, and it seemed as if there was something of relief in his eyes. Charlton was a puzzle to Ralph. He could not understand the boy anyhow.
Nor was Warren the only one who came and spoke to Ralph and expressed abhorrence for the attempt to brand him as a thief, and satisfaction that he was cleared from the accusation.
But that same day, in a quiet corner of the playground, Horace Elgert came across Dobson, and, seizing him by the collar, he shook him savagely.
"You great blundering donkey," he said. "How did you come to do it? You have made a pretty mess of things."
"Well," growled Dobson, shaking himself free, "it is no good to kick up a row about it. No harm is done, only he has managed to get clear."
"But how did you do it? I cannot think how it was."
"Easy enough. I had five pounds that my aunt sent me. I am a favourite with her"—and Dobson smiled complacently. "Well, I had that in my pocket, and when you handed me over the other note, after I picked up his pocket-book, I must have put the wrong note in, that is all."
"But what did you do with the one I gave you?" demanded Elgert quickly.
"Changed it up in the town."
"Changed it!" he gasped. "You idiot! Don't you know that it can be traced by its number? I suppose that you wrote your name on the back?"
"Of course I did," said Dobson, looking very scared.
"Yes, and that note will come back to you, perhaps brought by a constable. You have done a nice thing!"
"But I didn't steal it—you stole it!" cried Dobson, in alarm. And Elgert struck him a savage blow.
"So you would turn sneak, would you? Well, there is no proof that I stole it. There is plenty of proof that you had it, changed it, and put your note into the pocket-book. You will suffer, and not me."
"What—what can we d-d-do?" gasped Dobson, his knees knocking together. And Elgert answered—
"We must go up into town to the place where you changed it. We must get that note back if we can, even if we have to give double for it. There is no telling what will happen, unless we get hold of it."
Brown's cake-shop was out of bounds for the younger boys at Marlthorpe College. The boys in the upper classes might go there if they chose; but as it was over a mile from the school, the Head had wisely determined that it was too far away for the little lads to be continually running there to spend their pocket-money; especially as there was a very clean and nice shop in the village close by—a shop kept by a kindly old dame, where Dr. Beverly was certain the boys could not come to harm.
It was quite as good a shop as Brown's; but, because it was within bounds, and because the lads were forbidden to go to the town, it was not patronized as it should have been; while Brown's received many a secret visit. It was a shame that the upper fellows might go there, when the juniors might not! It was the cause of heartburnings. There were no cakes in all the world like those which Brown's sold! The chief inducement to get promoted was that Brown's might be visited freely.
Of course, it was wrong and foolish; but then,boys are apt to think wrongly and do foolishly; and, therefore, the reason of two small mortals scuttling along the road, and dodging into Great Stow, with eyes ever on the alert for monitors and masters, was not hard to seek—their destination was, of course, Brown's.
A nice pair of young rebels they were. One was small and freckled and sandy, with small eyes, and a decidedly pug nose; and the other was a remarkably fat youth—so fat that it really seemed wonderful that he could run as he did.
They darted along, avoiding the main street, until the noted establishment was reached; then, after a careful and cautious peering in, to make sure that the coast was clear, they dived in, and the door closed behind them.
Now, Brown knew about these unlawful visits. He was very glad that he was without bounds, for he was quite certain that being so would increase his trade. He encouraged his youthful customers. He called them noble-spirited boys, who refused to bow to harsh rules. He said they were young heroes; and he had a nice little room behind the shop, with the window screened by a thick curtain—rather holey and dirty, it is true—and there was a bell to ring for Brown; and little white-topped tables to sit at; and it seemed so grand and "grown-up" to call for the waiter—though it was Brown himself who came—and to order a penny bun, or a jam tart, andfor Brown to say "Yes, sir; at once, sir." Oh, it was very, very delightful, and it had a spice of adventure about it.
So into the private room dived the two youthful spendthrifts, and ordered tarts and ginger-beer and ices, and then seated themselves at their ease to enjoy this forbidden feast.
"Ain't they prime, Jimmy?" gloated the fat boy, as he put himself outside a three-cornered puff; and Jimmy, with his mouth full of tart, was understood to reply that they were "ripping."
The shop-bell tinkled, and Jimmy jumped up. He was not quite sure who might come in, and he squinted through one of those convenient holes in the blind, a fragment of tart still in his hand.
"I say, it is Elgert's man!" he said, looking round. "I wonder what he wants here?"
"Oh, he doesn't signify. Let us enjoy ourselves, for we cannot stay long, and we shall have to run all the way back."
That eating cakes was a good preparation for running a mile is open to question, but the two boys evidently had no doubts concerning the matter; and so they sat there, while the man who had entered talked to Brown over the counter, and, seeing that the door was not quite closed, the boys could not help hearing a little of what passed.
"I'll bide my time, Brown," Elgert's man said. "I will not be impatient, but I will humble thatyoung cub yet! I hate him even more than I do his father. He treats a man like the dirt beneath his feet!"
"So he does," muttered Jimmy Green to Tinkle; "that is quite right!"
And Tinkle nodded. He was busy with an ice just at the moment.
"I say," said Brown to the man, "if you are not in a hurry, I wish that you would run over to the inn and ask them to change me this five-pound note? It is one which I changed for one of the boys from the school the other day."
Two youthful pairs of ears pricked up, two hands were arrested as they conveyed two cakes towards two mouths. A five-pound note changed for a boy from the school! This was exciting!
"I can cash it for you myself," the man said; "I have just been paid my month's money."
"I shall be obliged," said Brown. And then followed the ringing sound of money being counted out; the man picked up the note, glanced at it and put it into his pocket.
"I will look in as I return," he said to Brown; and away he went.
"I say! Think we can get out of Brown who changed that note?" said Tinkle to Green. "It's jolly funny, after what took place to-day!"
"I don't know," answered Green thoughtfully. "Fact is, Tinkle, old man, I don't know that I amanxious to do it. It is awkward to know too much sometimes. There is the chance of having to split on some chap you are friendly with. If you don't know you can't say."
"And if you don't say, some one may stay wrongly suspected," was the retort of Tinkle. And then, the shop-bell sounding again, necessitated another going to peep through the blind.
"Oh, I say!" gasped Tinkle, as he looked through a hole; "if it isn't Elgert himself this time, and his crony Dobson is with him!"