"There don't seem to be much sport," said Tinkle to Green, as they sat side by side on the river bank, casting longing glances at their floats. Tinkle's bobbed under, and he pulled up sharply—he had hooked a fine piece of weed, the tenth catch of the kind he had made.
"Bother!" said Green, putting down the landing-net, which he had seized to be in readiness to help his friend. "I am jolly well sick of it. Let us drop it."
Tinkle agreed; the rod was taken to pieces and the lines put away, and then the pair stood up.
"Ugh—ah-r-r!" sighed Tinkle. "Don't it make you cramped, and—— I say, Green, there's a man coming, and by gum, I believe it's that Elgert's man—the chap we saw in the cake-shop!"
"So it is," was Green's answer. "And look how he is sauntering. Perhaps he is going to meet some one."
"Let us hide," suggested Tinkle eagerly, "in the old boathouse. We may hear some more secrets."
Green made no objection on the score of eavesdropping; the two boys, bending low, darted across the towing-path, and into an old, dilapidated, wooden building, now fast falling to decay, that had once done duty as a boathouse.
"Oh, I say, here comes Elgert himself!" said Green excitedly, peeping through a hole. "Don't make a sound. I believe——"
"Oh," interrupted Tinkle, in consternation, "they are coming in here! Oh, what ever shall we do?"
"Be quiet, you silly. Hide! Down you go flat under that old boat. Hold up the end while I creep under; and whatever you do, don't sneeze. Mind the net, and——"
His words were cut short by the boat slipping from Tinkle's hands and extinguishing them both. They lay side by side. They were quite safe, for it was most unlikely that Elgert or the man would look beneath it.
One of the planks had started, and they could hear plainly, and even see a good deal of the interior of the place. They did see—saw Elgert and the man enter; and Horace Elgert sat down on the top of that boat.
"If I only had a pin!" muttered Green. And Tinkle dug him in the ribs and breathed in his ear—
"Be quiet, or I will punch your head when I get you out!"
"You are an impertinent rascal!" was Elgert'sfirst polite remark. "But don't you forget the book I have, with the confession in it. It may get you into trouble yet."
"And don't you forget, Mr. Horace, that it was your own father who put me up to it. He wanted Charlton got out of the way, and he showed me how to make a hundred pounds for myself, and make an innocent man get the blame. I haven't had a single day's peace of mind since. My conscience has accused me."
"Your conscience! Where do you keep it?" laughed Elgert, while the ears of the two hidden boys were strained to their utmost. "A pretty sort of fellow you are. My father put you up to it! How can you prove that?"
"I cannot," was the sulky answer. "He was too clever for that. I wrote the truth in my pocket-book——"
"Like the ass you are! What good would that do to you, or to Charlton?"
"It did no good. But it made me feel better, even to confess it like that. You stole the book—you, a fine gentleman! You stole it from my coat!"
"Yes; it was safer in my keeping than in yours. Such things are dangerous if they are left lying about."
"And you have used it as a threat to me ever since; and have ordered me about as if I were a dog!" was the angry retort. And Elgert laughed.
"I have found it useful certainly. And, my man, do you see that scar on the back of your hand? It was a bad cut, I think. How did you manage it?"
The man, with a swift motion, put his hand in his pocket.
"I cut it," he said. And Elgert laughed again.
"Yes. Do you know what housebreaking is? I suppose you know nothing of some one who broke into the school, the beginning of this term; and who was found near my bed, with a pillow; it looked very much as if he were going to try and kill me by smothering me. I wonder what that man wanted. He was frightened away by one of our boys, and he cut his hand getting over the wall. I wonder who that man was?"
"You know it was me. I would have done it, too, if I had not been found. I was frightened then, but I am not now. I am not in your power any more."
"Oh, and what has happened to change things?" inquired Horace Elgert mockingly.
"This," said the man fiercely. "If I have done wrong, what about you? There was a five-pound note stolen at your school——"
"What do you know about that?" cried Elgert quickly.
"I know that it was changed in the town by your friend; and I know that you and he went to buy it back, and paid far more than it was worth for it, and——"
"And having got it back, there the thing ends," laughed Horace; but the man laughed also.
"Oh, yes, you got it back; but not before I had photographed it! I have the negative here, a beautiful negative that will enlarge."
Elgert regarded him in silent fury.
"Well," he said, altering his tone, "what do you want for it? I suppose you are trying to make money?"
"My book—the one you stole. If it is just as it was when I had it, you shall have this; if it is torn or damaged, then I take this to the police."
"You are smarter than I thought," answered Elgert blandly; but oh, in his heart, how he determined that in some way he would make this man suffer! "Well, here is the book. You can see it is not harmed."
The man snatched the book which the boy took from his pocket, and ran to the door to get all the light he could, as he eagerly glanced inside.
"It is all right," he said. "Here is the negative." And he handed it to Elgert. "And now you go!"—this to the book. "You have caused me trouble enough. Go where no one can get at you!" And, in a fit of rage, he threw it into the river; and then he turned back to the boy.
"Get it again, if you can!" he laughed. "My word is as good as yours, now; and while you have the negative, you have not got the prints I took fromit. You are in my power now, Mr. Horace, and you had best be civil, or there will be trouble." And with that he turned and hurried off, leaving Horace Elgert alone, white with passion and fear.
"I need not fear him," he muttered. "It only means paying enough, and I shall get them. This can go, the water will soon wash the film off."
He skimmed the negative away, but it slipped from his fingers and fell into shallow water. He did not trouble; in less than an hour it would be washed clean away. Then Horace Elgert produced a book from his pocket, and this he, having tied a stone to it, also threw into the river; then, finally, he took that dreadful banknote from his pocket, and, striking a match, he set it alight and watched it burn to ashes. Then, hands in pockets, he sauntered off, and Tinkle and Green crept from their refuge.
"We must get back," said Green. "We shall be late."
"Get back be bothered!" rejoined Tinkle eagerly. "We are going to fish again. Be careful. Here, hold open your book—I see one in your pocket!"
Tinkle carefully picked up all the grey, fluffy ash of that burnt banknote, and placed it between the leaves.
"My father says that banknotes have a queer ash, and we may want to show this. Now let us see if we can get those things out of the river. That negative seemed to fall close in."
"I see it!" cried Green, pointing into the water.
"Look, there it is, out on that patch of white sand—see, there!"
A clever stroke or two with the landing-net, and then the little square of glass was in their hands. It was scratched somewhat, but unbroken. Tinkle laid it on the grass carefully.
"That is one," he said. "Now let us try for the others."
He weighted his line heavily, and started. He fished and fished, and at last he was rewarded—up came the pocket-book; and soon after, up came another book with a stone tied to it.
"It is a crib," pronounced Tinkle. "Come on, Green; we are in an awful mess, and we are in for a caning, I suppose; but we have caught our fish, and I don't care a bit."
The two boys raced back to the school, and they were accosted in the playground by Warren.
"Hallo, you two kids! Where have you been, and how did you get into that state?" the monitor asked. "You are over an hour late. Have you seen anything of Rexworth?"
"No, Warren. Isn't he in? We wanted him. Oh, we have got something to tell him!"
"You will have something to tell the doctor," answered Warren grimly. "He is bound to want to know what you have been up to."
"Don't go, Warren. Do listen to us. It concerns Rexworth and Charlton. We know about Elgert."
"What is that?" cried Warren, turning. "What do you mean?" And the boys, with many "you sees" and "you knows," told their story, and exhibited their treasures.
"Here, you come with me!" said Warren. "You are a pair of little bricks. Come with me!"
"Where to, Warren?" they asked, as he hurried on—not in the direction of their room, but towards the Head's house. "Where are we going?"
"To the Head himself. He must deal with this. Don't you be frightened. I don't think he will punish you for being late, after he knows what kept you. Come on and speak up like men!"
"Why, Warren!" exclaimed Dr. Beverly, in mild surprise, when the monitor of the Fourth entered his presence, accompanied by the two little draggled objects. "What is this? Have these boys been in the river? Take them to the housekeeper at once. They are soaking wet!"
"They won't hurt for a minute or two more. They have something to tell you, sir—something I thought that you ought to hear before any one else."
"Indeed!" said the Head. "And what is it? Speak quickly, and let them go; they will catch bad colds."
So Warren told the story for them, and placed their catch before the Head. And Dr. Beverly, great man as he was, shook these two happy juniors by the hand, and called them clever boys, and dismissed them torevel in special tea in the matron's room after he had strictly enjoined both them and the monitor not to say a word of this, even to Charlton or Ralph Rexworth.
But Ralph had not come home, and it was getting late now. He had been long enough to get to Crab Tree Hill and back twice over. What could have happened to Ralph Rexworth?
Ralph Rexworth stood in the old ruin, looking very perplexed. He could not find Mr. Charlton anywhere. He had whistled, and called, and searched, but not a trace of the hiding man could he discover.
He felt anxious. What could it mean? Had the hiding-place been discovered, and his chum's unfortunate parent again been taken prisoner? Unless that was the case, he was at a loss to account for the man's absence.
"It is no use waiting any longer," he mused, after he had searched the ruin through for the third time. "He has not hurt himself and fallen anywhere in here. He must have been alarmed, and have fled, unless he is taken. Poor old Fred will be horribly worried when I go back and tell him; but there is nothing else for me to do, and I shall be late back, as it is."
He sighed. His friend's anxiety for his parent would be something like what he felt for his missing father. It made Ralph think of that again, and of the strange cry which he had heard in that place.He could not understand that. As he stood there he felt an uncontrollable impulse to penetrate to that lonely house again, to risk meeting the dogs, and to try the effects of his call once more.
"I am bound to be late, anyhow," he muttered, "so here goes." And he set off. Perhaps he might meet Charlton's father in the wood.
But—he stopped suddenly—what did this mean? There, on the soft ground, were those tracks once more! Lord Elgert's lame mare had been here! Did that mean that Lord Elgert himself had been; or had he lent his trap to the police again, and had they managed to run their victim down?
The tracks did not touch the ruin; they began some way from it, and swept round the spinny towards that lonely house. For Ralph to follow them was but child's play. He had hardly to slacken his pace a bit, so plainly the marks were to be seen on the soft, little-trodden earth. They guided him to the spinny—to a little path cut through it, of which he had been ignorant before—right up to the house itself; and there, standing before the open door, was Lord Elgert's trap and the lame mare. It was not to the ruin, but to that mysterious house that the trap had been driven. But why? Ah, how Ralph asked himself that question, and how impossible it was to find an answer to it!
Lord Elgert seemed to have hated his father. Lord Elgert was here, and he had heard his father's signalin this place. Ralph, crouching behind the trees, uttered his old call, and then listened with almost breathless attention.
Yes. There—there, muffled but indistinct, the answer came! It came from the house. His father was there, and his father was in Lord Elgert's power!
Ralph's first impulse was to dash forward; but he paused. He must be cautious here. He remained hiding, waiting to see if any one had noticed his call, and his prudence was rewarded by seeing Lord Elgert himself come to the door, accompanied by the brutal-looking man whom he had seen before, and glance anxiously round.
Then the two seemed to consult; and presently the man went away, to return with a couple of great tawny hounds, both of which he let loose. Ralph's heart stood still. What could he do against those fierce brutes? The man and Lord Elgert went in, and the dogs roamed round. They had not struck his scent yet; but presently they would do so, and then it would be a hard business for him.
Ralph was preparing to cautiously creep away, when he heard a shout from the house—a cry for help, and in his father's voice! That put all else out of his head, and he dashed like a deer across the grass and into the open door of that house. His father was there; his father was crying for help, and he would stand by his side!
The dogs saw, and raised a deep-voiced bay. Heslammed the door and shut them out, then darted along in the direction of the sounds he had heard.
They came from a room on the first floor and he rushed in, and there—there his father struggled in the grasp of Lord Elgert and his fierce companion. Mr. Rexworth had evidently been kept a captive by being bound to the wall by a stout chain; and one of his arms was swathed in dirty bandages, as though he was hurt.
Whether his captors wished to bind him still more securely, or whether it was that they sought to convey him somewhere else, Ralph did not know. He saw his father with his back to the wall, brandishing a stool in one hand. He saw the man rush in, dodge the blow, and strike his father down; and then, with a cry of rage, he sprang forward, seizing a heavy stick that lay on the table, and struck wildly at the aggressor. Alas! what could one stripling like he do against two such men? They both turned, and Ralph received a heavy blow upon the temple; and then all was darkness, and he knew nothing more.
But when he opened his eyes, where was he? What had happened? Why could he not move?
He strove to rise. He felt giddy and sick, and his head ached and throbbed dreadfully. Why he was bound—bound hand and foot, and he was stretched upon the floor!
He rolled on his side. His father lay back againstthe wall, but his chain was gone. He was only secured with a rope, in the same manner that Ralph was fastened. But his eyes were closed, and his face was very white. A dreadful fear filled the lad's mind—that he had come too late, that his father was really dead now.
For a few minutes he lay still, quietly trying the strength of his bonds. He knew that knots hastily tied could frequently be worked loose; but, alas, it was a vain hope in his case! Those who had secured him had done their work well.
And then suddenly he became aware of a hot, choky feeling in the air, and a sound of crackling. He struggled into a sitting posture, and—oh, horrible, horrible!—the room was full of smoke. The place was on fire, and he and his dear father were there, helpless and bound, left to perish in the flames!
What wonder that terror claimed him for the moment? Who would not flinch then in such an awful position?
"Father! Father!" he cried; but the prostrate man returned no answer. He lay silent, motionless. Ralph rolled over and over to his side. Alas, what good would that do? He managed to struggle to his feet by supporting himself in an angle of the room, and he gazed around. The smoke was growing worse—he could hardly breathe when he stood up—and hot puffs of air were forcing themselves through the flooring and whirling along the passage and throughthe door of the room—the door which was cracking and glowing red now, ready to burst into flame.
Oh, was there no help, no succour? If only his faithful Warren or dear old Charlton knew of his peril, how they would come to his aid! Alas, they were far away, and they did not know.
But what was that? A sound outside! A shout, and the dogs barking and raging more than ever, in a perfect fury of anger. Then a smashing of glass. Had the fire broken the windows? No. A form rising above the sill, a man who staggered as the hot smoke met him, and who bent down on all fours to creep across the room—a man who cried aloud—
"Ralph Rexworth, are you here? Are you here?"
It was Mr. Charlton; it was Mr. Charlton come to his aid. Oh, what a swift rush of thanksgiving filled Ralph's heart then!
"Here, here!" he answered. "I am tied up; I cannot move. And father is here, too; he is senseless." And Mr. Charlton was by his side in a few moments.
"Thank God you are unharmed," he said, as he drew his knife across the ropes that held Ralph prisoner. "I saw you enter, and I feared mischief; and when those two came out and drove off, I knew not what to think. There are two brutes of dogs there, and they prevented my trying to get in. Then I saw the smoke and flame, and I knew what they had done. I grew desperate, and made a dash for it.The dogs almost got me, but I managed to get into a tree that grew close to the house; and I passed along one branch to the top of the verandah, and so worked my way round. It was risky, for if I had slipped those two brutes would have been on me in a moment."
Mr. Charlton was not idle while he was talking. He had set Ralph free, and had cut the ropes that held Mr. Rexworth, who now opened his eyes and stared around in bewilderment.
"Oh father, father!" cried Ralph. "Thank God that you are alive! Try and rouse yourself, father dear. We are in great danger. The house is on fire, and if we do not get away quickly we must all perish."
"Ralph, what is it! How did you come?" the father asked vacantly. And Mr. Charlton shook him.
"Never mind that now, friend!" he cried. "The fire is upon us. Ah, see there!"—as the door fell with a crash and a burst of flame swept in upon them. "We have not a moment to lose. Out you go, Ralph, and hold on like a limpet! Be ready to aid your father, that is all"—as Ralph scrambled through the window and managed to find footing on a narrow ledge that ran round the house. "Now, Mr. Rexworth, prove yourself a man. If you fall, the dogs won't give you a chance. Now, sir, for Heaven's sake, try!"
"I will manage it all right, my good friend," answered Mr. Rexworth. The flame and smoke hadrecalled him to the immediate peril. "Just a hand through, that is all." And, summoning all his reserve of strength and resolution, he managed to get from the window, aided by Mr. Charlton in the room, and somewhat supported by Ralph behind him.
Cautiously holding on with grim energy, the three managed to creep back to that point from which the rescuer had first started—the top of the verandah. But this was a position of great peril now; for the flames were breaking through it, and darting from the windows above it, and the melted lead of roof and gutter hissed and spluttered. It seemed death to go on; it was death to go back. And the two hounds below had followed them round, and now stood barking up at them.
"We must risk it," panted Mr. Charlton. "Let me go first, and show you how to do it. If you step on the wall you can reach the branch of the tree in three strides. It seems very dreadful, but the peril is more apparent than real. Look!"
He boldly jumped to the brickwork around which the fire darted. He took three quick firm steps, and was able to swing himself into the limb of the tree, safe from the fire's reach.
Mr. Rexworth followed by the same dangerous path. "Now, Ralph!" he cried. But almost as the words came the whole of the verandah, and the brickwork supporting it, fell in; and there Ralph was left clinging to that narrow protection of the wall.
And the wall itself was cracking with the heat. He could not maintain his position for long. At any moment it might fall and cover him in its heated ruins.
Mr. Rexworth groaned in horror; Mr. Charlton looked on in dismay; and Ralph clung there, with death behind, and death above, and death—the worst death of all, red-eyed and lolling-tongued death—beneath awaiting him!
"Ralph! Oh, my son!" cried Mr. Rexworth, as he saw the peril in which the brave lad stood. And the boy turned and looked at his father.
"I cannot hold on here much longer, father," he said. "I shall have to drop, and take my chance with the dogs."
"Wait—wait a moment, Ralph!" answered the agonized man. "Let me get down and attract their attention, and then you will have a chance."
"Don't, don't father," implored Ralph. "What chance will you have with them with your arm hurt? I may manage it."
"I will do it," volunteered Mr. Charlton; "I am uninjured. You stay here, sir."
"Don't either of you do it!" cried Ralph, shifting his position a little so as to avoid the smoke if he could. "I am going to try and creep back a bit. I may find a better place."
"It is useless, Ralph," was his father's answer. "The wall is cracking behind you. I can see the smoke coming through. Oh, if we only had a rope!"
"A rope!" cried Mr. Charlton. "If a rope can aid in such an extremity, I can supply that; for I have kept a long one on my person in case I might be in need of it to escape from my own enemies."
As he spoke he threw off his coat and waistcoat, and there, wound round his body, was a long but fine line, one quite long enough to serve the purpose of reaching to where Ralph clung, though he could not see of what avail it would be.
But Mr. Rexworth saw. And, shouting to Ralph to keep up his courage and to look out, he threw one end of the rope—not to the boy—but up over another branch of the tree that was some height above them. Then he caught this end as it fell, and gave the other to Mr. Charlton, bidding him give one turn round the trunk and hold on with all his might. The other end he whirled round his head, and, with practised aim, he sent it to Ralph, who gripped at it with one hand, having to risk falling to earth as he did so.
With practised aim, he sent the rope to Ralph
"With practised aim, he sent the rope to Ralph, who gripped itwith one hand." p. 287
But, having got it, the rest was easy. He was able to swing across that fiery gulf which separated him from safety, and the next moment was safely beside his father, while the dogs ran to the tree and leaped against its trunk in vain rage. And almost at that moment the wall to which he had been clinging collapsed and fell in fiery ruin. A few moments sooner, and it would have carried the brave boy with it to his death.
Safe so far, but still held prisoners by those dogs;and still with the flame and smoke blowing upon them. If the walls fell in their direction death might claim them after all.
"If we only had some weapon to beat these brutes off with," said Mr. Charlton, as he looked down. But Mr. Rexworth replied—
"We had better remain here. The fire is sure to be seen, and help will arrive soon."
Help! Yes, help for Ralph and his father. But what would that help mean to poor Mr. Charlton—what but being taken prisoner again? He sighed, but said nothing. He had done his best to help the boy who had helped him, and if that must be the price paid he would pay it.
But Ralph had little idea of remaining perched in a tree. He saw that there was a weapon, and one which, in skilful hands, would prove very effective—one which he excelled in the use of.
The rope was coiled in his hands, and a running noose was formed at one end. He crawled far out on the branch, and got a firm hold with his legs; then he gave his rope a whirl, and sent it flying downwards. And soon one of those great dogs was jerked into mid-air, and when it touched earth again it was dead—its neck was broken.
They hauled it up and loosened the noose, letting the body fall heavily to the earth. And ere long the second animal had shared its fate, and there was nothing to hinder them from descending.
Nothing! No, that was not quite right. There was a desperate man, who had remained hidden, to see the result of his wicked work—a man whose face was dark with wrath, and whose heart was maddened with fear. For if these escaped unscathed, it meant the ruin of everything for him.
Mr. Charlton and Ralph had helped Mr. Rexworth to the ground, and either from weakness, or from the reaction of feeling, Mr. Rexworth staggered and sunk half swooning at the foot of the tree; while the other two bent over him anxiously.
That was the chance. Lord Elgert and his brutal follower suddenly dashed from the shelter of the trees and rushed upon them. The man was armed with a rugged stick, and Lord Elgert had a heavily-loaded whip. It seemed as if the others were at their mercy; but Ralph's quick ear caught the sound of their approach, and with a cry of warning he started up. The others were almost upon them, and they were unarmed. The lad glanced around; at his feet one of the dead dogs lay; he seized it, he put out all his strength, and sent the heavy body direct at the pair, who, quite unprepared for such an unexpected assault, received it full in their faces.
The man fell heavily, Lord Elgert turned and fled. And Ralph, with an eager cry, darted after him, rope in hand. The man who had treated his father thus should not escape him now.
But now through the growth there came the crashingof heavy bodies, and loud shouts were raised. The fire had attracted attention, and people were rushing from Crab Tree village to see what was the cause.
And not only villagers, but policemen—policemen who had patiently waited and watched, feeling sure that the man they wanted was still hiding in the locality. It was a constable who grabbed hold of Ralph's arm, and, pulling him up with a sudden jerk, demanded what he was doing and what had occasioned the fire.
Ralph struggled. It was maddening to think that he was stopped while Lord Elgert was escaping. He did not stop to think that escape was next to impossible. He was accustomed to the ways of the wild plains, and there, if a man once got away, it was almost certain that no one would catch him again.
"It was Lord Elgert who did it, and he is running away!" he cried. "My father is there. You know how he was missing, and we thought he had been murdered. Lord Elgert had him. He is here."
"Whatever are you talking about, young man?" the constable demanded, perplexed at such a dramatic statement. But the sergeant, who had come up with a horse-constable interposed—
"Don't stand there talking, man, see what is amiss!" The constable had let go of Ralph, and the mounted man had jumped from his horse. Ralph caught sight of a trap being driven at full speed over the moor. He had no need to ask who was in that. Lord Elgertwas making good his escape. With a shout of anger and defiance, Ralph had sprung into the empty saddle and was off before a single man there could get over his surprise and hinder him.
"There he goes, there he goes!" he shouted, pointing after the trap. "That is Lord Elgert, but I will ride him down!" And away he went, leaving the men open-mouthed.
They found the two dead dogs, they found Mr. Rexworth, and alas! they found poor, patient Mr. Charlton. He might have attempted to escape, but he would not leave the injured man. Besides, it was no use now; there was nowhere else to hide, and he must be taken sooner or later.
And after the galloping mare went Ralph, riding hard. It was like the old life once more—this wild gallop. He had ridden the half-wild broncho steeds of Texas, and he had no difficulty with this well-trained horse.
On he went; on, on, near and nearer to the flying man in front. He saw Lord Elgert look back at him. A man against a boy! Surely the man need have no fear in such a contest! And yet Lord Elgert did fear. He had feared this boy from the very first time he had seen him in Stow Wood. He had feared him from the moment Ralph had cut that bullet from the tree, and from the time when he had heard him declare that he would never rest until he had solved the mystery of his father's disappearance. That mysterywas solved, all his wicked devices were brought to naught, and now he was fleeing for life and for liberty, being hunted just as he had made the police hunt Mr. Charlton. The tables were being turned indeed!
Nearer and nearer Ralph drew, and fiercer and more cruelly did the man lash the sides of his faithful little mare. Ralph stood up in his stirrups, and Lord Elgert looked at him over his shoulder. The boy had the rope in his hands. Ah, the very first thing he did when he had come to the place was to rope his black bull! Now he was going to serve him in the same way—to serve him as he had served the two dogs!
Lord Elgert saw the arm of the boy sweep round his head, and he ducked.
But Ralph had not aimed at him, he had a better plan than that. The noose settled over the little mare. Ralph pulled up, and braced himself for the shock which he knew would follow—a shock which nearly pulled him from his saddle. The mare went down, the trap was shattered, and Lord Elgert, totally unprepared—not even looking where he was going—was sent flying through the air to fall heavily, striking his temple against a rugged stump.
Ralph was at the spot in a moment. The man was stunned and at his mercy. The rope had done its duty as a lasso, and was now used to bind Lord Elgert. Ralph felt no remorse or compunction about that. He must take this man to his father, and his father must declare what should next be done.
"He isn't much hurt," he muttered; "nor are you, you poor thing," he added, turning to the plunging mare. "There you are"—as he cut her free from the ruin of the trap. "Now I reckon that you can find your own way home, and, in the meantime, I will wait here."
He placed his hands to his mouth, and gave his old wild call, and from the distance it was answered by his father. They would soon be here now. Ralph tethered the horse, and seated himself on the grass. Lord Elgert opened his eyes, and looked at him with an expression of the deepest hate; but Ralph little heeded that. His father was safe, and that was all he thought of then. Ralph Rexworth felt happier at that moment than he had done for many a day, and, paying no attention to his fallen foe, save to take care that he did not get free, he waited until the police, people, and Mr. Rexworth arrived upon the scene. Yes, the tables were turned now; and had he but known it, they were turned at school also.
"The whole school to assemble in the hall!"
The order was received in every class-room, and masters and boys looked surprised. It was generally known that Ralph Rexworth had been absent all night, and that a message had been sent over to Mr. St. Clive's asking whether the boy had been detained there. It was also known that Charlton was in disgrace—that he had been accused of stealing Ralph's examination papers, for the purpose of correcting them from a crib.
The idea was that it must be on one of these accounts that the school was summoned—either Ralph had got into trouble, or Charlton was to be punished.
But there was no time for speculation. Into the hall the boys trooped, class by class—juniors, middle division, and seniors—their masters following, and their monitors leading the way; and there upon the doctor's desk an ominous object was to be seen—the school birch, rarely taken from its resting-place in the cupboard, rarely used, and, if the truth must be told, rarely needing to be used. Woe betide the unlucky boy whoso far disgraced the honour of Marlthorpe as to render its presence needful, for what he got from the Head was as nothing to what he would receive from the angry scholars later on.
"Silence!"
Kesterway's voice rang out as Dr. Beverly entered and an expectant hush fell upon the whole school.
"Frederick Charlton, stand out!"
Charlton obeyed. Boys who knew how nervous he was were surprised to see him quite calm now. He moved forward towards the Head's desk and saluted; and then the Headmaster of Marlthorpe spoke.
"Charlton, you were found in my class-room the other night, with Rexworth's examination papers in your hand. Tell the school your reason for being there!"
The Head spoke shortly, but kindly, as if inviting the boy to be at ease; and Charlton told his story, and explained how he had seen Dobson and Elgert break open the desk.
"The desk was unlocked. There was no need to break it open," the Head said; and then he turned to the other two boys, and asked them what they had to say.
What they had to say indeed! Such indignant denials, and such plain statements that it was all up between Rexworth and Charlton.
"Rexworth is detained, and cannot be here yet," said the Head quietly. "But we can proceed with this inquiry in his absence. Elgert and Dobson, stand out!"
And the two obeyed, ill at ease, wondering what was coming next, and casting suspicious looks at each other, as if each thought the other had turned informer.
"Horace Elgert, did you ever see this before?" asked the Head.
And Elgert turned white, for the doctor held out that wretched crib which he had thrown into the river.
"No, sir," he answered, averting his eyes.
And the same answer was asked of Dobson, who gave the same answer.
"James Green! Henry Tinkle!" cried Kesterway.
And the two small chums jumped up eagerly.
"Explain how you became possessed of this crib," said the Head.
Green spoke first, and Tinkle backed him up, and then a low angry hiss rang through the school, and Horace Elgert turned a pair of anxious, frightened eyes towards his companions.
"Do you deny this story, Elgert?" asked the Head sternly.
And the boy was silent. If those two juniors had picked up his book, had they picked up anything else?
"There was a banknote missing some time ago," the Head went on. "You may remember that a note was found in Rexworth's pocket-book, and I showed how he had been the victim of a plot. The banknote that was stolen was never discovered; but I now know that it was changed by you, Dobson, at alow cake shop in the town, and that afterwards it was bought back by you and Elgert from that man for far more than it was worth. That note, Elgert, you destroyed yesterday by burning it, and here are the ashes." And the Head produced the filmy ash still lying inTom Brown's Schooldays. "But that note had been photographed, and you purchased the negative by giving to the person who held it a pocket-book which you had previously taken from him. The negative you also threw into the river, and the person you were with threw in the book which you had just restored to him. Do you deny these statements?"
Still Elgert did not answer. He felt hot and cold by turns. He did not know where to turn his eyes. It was no use denying in the face of such proof.
"You cannot answer!" the Head went on. "You, Dobson, what do you know of this?"
"Oh—oh—oh!" yelled Dobson, clasping his hands, and falling upon his knees. "Oh, forgive me, sir! Oh, I will own up, sir! It was all Elgert's fault. He made me do it, sir! I never wanted to do it, sir! It is all true, every bit of it, sir! Oh——"
"Silence!" cried the Head, in ill-disguised contempt. "No one can force another to do evil. You two boys have conspired together to injure the good name of a companion, whose only offence has been that he has tried to act a noble manly part amidst very difficult and adverse circumstances. You would have branded him a thief; and to do it you did not hesitate tobecome thieves yourselves. You have told the vilest lies—and you, Elgert, have done worse. It will be for other authorities to deal with this; but I will mention it here. You have allowed one of these boys—Charlton I mean—to suffer much torture because of his father's unhappy position. You knew that his father was innocent, and you held the proof of that, and——"
Then the Head stopped, for Charlton had turned very white. He had not known of the business of the pocket-book.
"Oh, sir," he said, "my father innocent! And he knew it, and—and——"
He put his hand to his head, and Kesterway sprang forward and caught him, or he would have fallen, for he fainted away; and the Head, with tears in his eyes, murmured—
"Poor boy! Poor boy! Take him to the matron."
They carried him out, and not one of those who had jeered at him but now felt sorry and ashamed, and full of anger against the two culprits, to whom the Head now turned again.
"It is possible that others outside our school may have something to say to you about this business," he said. "That has nothing to do with me. I have only to deal with your offence as it touches the honour of the school and for that offence only the severest punishment can be inflicted——"
Whereat Dobson uttered a howl, and Elgert clenchedhis hands and looked desperate. The severest punishment! That was why the birch was there.
"You will both be publicly flogged," continued the Head, "and then you will be expelled!"
And at this a shout of approval went up. Marlthorpe was going to be avenged for the slight put upon its honour.
"Oh, mercy—mercy!" cried Dobson. "Oh, don't flog me, sir! I won't do it any more, and it was all Elgert's fault."
Elgert looked at him in scorn. If he must be flogged, he would crave no mercy. He would show them that he did not care. But flogged! A gasp went round as the school porter and the man who kept the lodge came in. It was useless to resist, though Dobson kicked and struggled, and shouted in his anger and fear. The Head laid aside his gown, and took the rod; and then the sound of the hissing cuts came. Dobson was the first victim, and with the strokes came the yells—awful yells, for the Head did not spare him in the least, and Dobson plainly found himself in a very uncomfortable position.
He was released at last, and then Elgert—the Honourable Horace Elgert—took his place. He bit his lips until the blood came, but he would not cry out. But oh, how he hated Ralph Rexworth then! If he could have hurt him—if he could have killed him, he would not have cared what they did to him afterwards.
It was over at last. And he stood breathless, smarting, a mist before his eyes, until he caught sight of Tinkle's fat face; and he thought that Tinkle was grinning.
Then, rage overcoming him, not thinking what he was doing, he rushed at the little fellow, and, had not Warren been near to prevent it, he would have knocked him down.
And then, Head or no Head, Marlthorpe lost its calmness, and the boys sprang up, and surged forward at the two offenders—angry boys, with menacing eyes. Elgert's courage failed him then. He turned and ran, and Dobson went after him. In vain masters shouted, and the Head rang his bell. In vain Kesterway rushed after them. Not another monitor paid any attention. Out into the playground they streamed, and around it they chased the two boys.
Around they went. They drove them to the small pond, and threw them in. They dragged them out, and hustled them, dripping and breathless, to the gates. The Head had no need to expel the pair.
As Elgert and Dobson were thrown out a little party approached the gates; and from its number, one boy darted forward to throw himself between the two miserable victims and their pursuers, and that boy was Ralph Rexworth himself.
"Here, I say, drop that! It is not fair!" giving Warren a shove backwards. "It isn't the right thing! Drop it, you fellows! And look out, here comes the Head!"
Yes, the Head with his cane, and the masters with their canes, coming to insist upon order, and to show Marlthorpe that it could not be permitted to do just as it chose even with boys like Dobson and Elgert. It certainly looked as though some one was going to get caned just then.
But Warren uttered a whoop.
"Hallo, Ralph! Fellows, here is Rexworth turned up. Just too late to see the fun! You ought to have heard Dobby yell, my boy! It was lovely!"
"Here is Rexworth!" echoed the boys.
They pounced upon him. They grabbed arm or leg, whichever they could get hold of, and dragged him somehow upon their shoulders, and marched back triumphantly; while the Head and the masters did not know what to do.
And behind Ralph came Mr. Rexworth, and Mr. St. Clive and Irene—a very radiant Irene—who whispered to Tom Warren that the gentleman with the injured arm was Ralph's father, and that he was Lord Rexworth, because he was the son of the old Lord Stephen, and his right name was Rexworth Stephen, and Ralph would be the Honourable Ralph Rexworth Stephen. She told it very excitedly, and Tom Warren whistled, and then yelled—
"Three cheers for Ralph's father—Lord Rexworth Stephen! And three more cheers for the Honourable Ralph Rexworth Stephen! Come on, you fellows, out with it!"
What shouting and cheering there was then! And how, while Mr. Rexworth, as we will still call him, was talking to the Doctor, Ralph got nearly pulled to pieces. Why, they even forgot the birching in the excitement of Ralph's return. They had to hear his story, and how he had found his father; and then Warren explained how they had found out that Mr. Charlton was innocent.
That was good news for Ralph—the best news that could possibly be—and escaping with Warren and Irene, he hurried across to the matron's house, and begged that he might see his chum.
Charlton was all right, only he was so excited, and just a little inclined to cry. And he wanted to know where his father was; and when Ralph explained how Mr. Charlton had given himself up, he exclaimed—
"Oh, Ralph, let us go and explain! Let us go now!"
"Come and tell my father. He will understand," said Ralph; but there was little need for telling.
Already Mr. St. Clive had been informed, and he had hurried off at once. It would not be long before Mr. Charlton was a free man.
And then Mr. Rexworth, seeing that there would be much to talk about, went back with Ralph and Irene and Charlton to Mr. St. Clive's house, there to tell his story, and explain how it was that he had become the prisoner of the man who had treated him so very cruelly.
Seated in the drawing-room at Mr. St. Clive's house, an interested party gathered around Mr. Rexworth to hear his story. And not only an interested party, but a happy one, for the trouble was gone, and the sun was shining for all there. It was no wonder that, even before stories were told, Mr. Rexworth should have said, "Let us all kneel and thank our Heavenly Father for His great mercy and goodness," nor that every heart should have been filled with devout gratitude as, with bent heads, they listened to the words of thanksgiving, for, like the psalmist of old, they could say, "God hath done great things for us, whereof we are glad."
And so they sat, while Mr. Rexworth told his story, a story that had its moral, too, for it revealed how disobedience to a father might bring sore punishment afterwards.
For, as we now know, Mr. Rexworth was the son of old Lord Stephen, and in his early days he had been wild and headstrong, and had frequently disobeyed his father's commands. And in that he had been aidedby his cousin Elgert. For Elgert envied the young heir his position, and hoped to make a bad quarrel between the father and son.
And he was successful. The quarrel came, and Mr. Rexworth had run away from home, dropping his name of Stephen, and going away to the wild plains of Texas, to indulge in the roving life for which he longed. But he soon found that it was not all pleasure—that hardship and disappointment followed, and that whether in England or away in wild lands, the best thing for a man was to be a follower of the Lord Jesus Christ.
But he did not write to his father, for he believed that he would never be forgiven. And he met his wife, and married, and Ralph was born; and then he was content, and put all thoughts of the old home away, striving to bring his son up as a true Christian, even amidst their wild surroundings.
But his wife, when she was dying, spoke seriously to her husband, for she knew the truth, and she said that their boy ought to come to his own; and so, because she wished it, for the first time Mr. Rexworth wrote home to his father.
But Lord Stephen was dead, and his nephew reigned in his place; and Lord Elgert had sent a cold letter back, saying that he did not wish to have anything to do with a man who had broken a good father's heart, and that everything had been left to him.
But with that letter there came another, one writtenby a faithful old servant, enclosing a will. Lord Stephen had made that will just before he died, and had entrusted it to his old retainer; so that if ever his son, whom he had forgiven, should come back, he should have his own again.
Then Mr. Rexworth had started for England with Ralph, but he had not told his son anything of the business which took him there; and when at last they had reached Stow Ormond he had left the boy at theHorse and Wheelwith old Simon, and had started off for Castle Court.
And an angry, disappointed man was Lord Elgert when he found that his cousin was to take from him everything which he had schemed to gain.
"He had nothing to say," said Mr. Rexworth, "but he looked very strange as I left—as if he would have liked to kill me. I had told him that no one knew who I really was, and that my own son was ignorant of the truth. It was a foolish thing to have done, for it meant that if I were out of the way, no one would know anything about the business which had brought me home.
"It was dark and cheerless, and I was anxious to get back to you, Ralph, so I took the short cut through Stow Wood past the black mere; and just as I reached the pond I was startled by some one firing at me from behind a tree. The first shot missed, but the second struck my arm and broke the bone. It has never been properly set, and has caused me much pain.
"I must have fainted, for when I recovered my senses I was a prisoner in a strange place—the very house in which you found me. My cousin's first intention had been to kill me; but when he found that he had failed, his courage wavered, and he had me taken to that place and put that man to guard me. He promised to set me free if I would give him the will, but that I would not do. I had taken the precaution to leave that in London with a lawyer I had known in my younger days, and there it is now.
"Lord Elgert's next offer was to set me free if I would sign away half the property to him; but that I also refused to do. The man used to urge him to kill me, but he seemed possessed with the fear that you, Ralph, would find it out if he did so.
"Then one day when I felt very depressed and ill and on the point of yielding, I heard your old call, and I answered it, and I knew that you had in some way got on my track. And Lord Elgert found that out also, for yesterday he came to take me away to another hiding-place, and I refused to go. We struggled, and again your call came, and that made him desperate. The rest of the story you know, my dear boy. And now you must tell me how you managed to get on my track."
So Ralph told his story, and then Mr. Charlton explained how he had, whilst hiding in the old ruin, become convinced that Lord Elgert held some one prisoner in that strange house, and on the very daywhen Ralph had gone to take his chum's message, he had stolen out to watch. Mr. Charlton had seen Ralph go in, and had watched until both Lord Elgert and his man came out; then, perplexed and fearing foul play, he had stood there until the flames burst out, and that sight had dispelled his fear of the dogs and sent him to the rescue.
And then, when the police had arrived and had taken their prisoner again, Mr. St. Clive had come after him, not only with that diary, but with the man who had written it, and who confessed that he had committed the offence at the instigation of Lord Elgert, who had a spite against Mr. Charlton.
The innocent man was soon set free after that, and was able to rejoin his wife and his son openly and without any fear.
But Lord Elgert? Ah, that was the one thing that made Mr. Rexworth sad. He would have forgiven his cousin if he could, much as he had suffered at his hands, but the law would not allow that. Lord Elgert had been arrested, and the miserable Horace, together with his partner in disgrace, Dobson, had run away, and no one knew where they were.
But they were found, for Mr. Dobson set a detective on their track, and they were brought back, a pair of sorry-looking objects, dirty and ragged.
Mr. Dobson immediately apprenticed his son to a firm of shipowners, and sent him off to sea; and Mr. Rexworth, seeing that Horace had no friend, did thesame for his nephew, hoping that in his new life he would become a true and good man. Ralph would have been friendly to Horace at their parting, but the proud boy would not accept his friendship. Later on they heard that he had deserted his ship when it got to Australia, and after that they heard no more of him.
And so punishment overtook those who had done evil, and patience and truth reaped their reward at last, as they ever must in the end; and Ralph Rexworth was the Hon. Ralph Rexworth Stephen amongst his schoolfellows, for Mr. Rexworth thought that it would do him no harm to stay at the good doctor's school for a little while before he went to college.
Yes, he was "the Honourable." Indeed, he had been the Honourable all the time in the true sense of the word. He did not put on any airs—our Ralph could not have done that if he had tried—and he and Charlton and honest old Tom Warren were three of the staunchest chums that ever you met with—always together, and all three working for the good of the Fourth; so that when they were promoted to the Fifth, Mr. Delermain said that it was one of the greatest losses he had received, and that the best influences in his class had all been taken away together.
"But," some of my readers may ask, "did Ralph Rexworth win the Newlet?" I declare that I had nearly forgotten that. He did win it; and it will not be a bad idea to finish the story by having a peep at him when he received it.
Of course, that was on breaking-up day. What a lovely day that always is, especially when you know that you have a good report to take home, and some prizes to carry away with you.
The great hall at Marlthorpe was decorated with flags, and crowded with visitors; while on the platform, which had been constructed at one end, all the boys were gathered, class by class, and in the middle of them was the Head's chair, and the masters' seats, and a place for the speakers—and there was Mr. Rexworth among the speakers!
Well, there they all were; and the Head read his report; and they all clapped and shouted at the part where it said that for the second year in succession, Marlthorpe had the honour of carrying off the Newlet.
"Good old Rexworth!" shouted one boy. And the Head had to cry order sharply; whereat Jimmy Green nudged Tinkle and said "Shut up, you silly!" so it must have been Tinkle who shouted.
And then there were the speeches, and then the recitations; and Tinkle and Green were most wonderfully impressive in the quarrel between Brutus and Cassius—only just at the part where Brutus had to say "Take this dagger," he found he had no dagger with him; and Cassius said very rudely, and quite out loud, so that every one could hear it—
"You silly owl! I knew you would forget it; and I made such a lovely one, with silver foil for a blade."
"Imagine the dagger," whispered Mr. Rexworth,his face red with laughter. And the dagger being imagined, the quarrel went on, and was made up in the most approved fashion.
And then, recitations over, there came a short pause—an impressive pause, during which small juniors pushed back their hair, and arranged collars and ties, and tried to look irreproachable, for prizes were coming—prizes!
They began with the juniors first. That is a wise plan, because, having got their share, they are more likely to sit still while the upper classes are being dealt with. The juniors! And every one laughed and clapped as the little fellows walked up to the Head, so stiff and awkward, and saluted for all the world like penny dolls worked by a string, and having clutched their prizes and bobbed to the audience, scuttled back to their seats to have their immediate neighbours bend enviously over that lovely book, and take hurried glances at the pictures.
The middle classes—that is the Upper Third and Lower Fourth—next. With them we have nothing to do, beyond saying that both Tinkle and Green were amongst the prize-winners and that almost before they had got back to their seats, they had challenged each other to mortal combat, because each said his book was better than the other's.
Then the seniors—the Upper Fourth—Warren and Charlton. And each of them got clapped and cheered, as they richly deserved to be.
And then Ralph Rexworth Stephen—how strange it sounded to hear him called that!—and such a burst of cheering and "Brave old Ralph!" and "Buck up, Ralph!" Well, the Head smiled; and for once Ralph looked quite foolish and nervous, and as if he would have liked to cry—it was so good to feel that all his schoolmates respected him!
But his prize given, the Head took up a little case by his side and took from it a gold medal with blue ribbon attached to it. The Newlet Gold Medal, won for Marlthorpe College by Ralph!
Talk of cheering then! It almost deafened one. And—those boys had been plotting together—Warren nodded and winked; and Charlton dived down and got something from beneath the form; and Irene suddenly appeared at Ralph's side with a tiny little laurel wreath, such as they crowned the heroes with in the olden days, when men worked for honour and not for gold; and while the people laughed and clapped she put it on Ralph's head, and at that moment Tom Warren and Charlton held up a great flag—Old England's Union Jack. They had thought all this out, mind you—the sly fellows they were; and Kesterway, the senior monitor of the school, shouted at the top of his voice—
"Now then, fellows! Three times three for the Honourable Ralph, while he stands under Honour's Flag!"
"Hurrah! Hurrah! Hurrah!"
"And a whole holiday to-morrow!"
"Hurrah! Hurrah! Hurrah!"
And when no one was looking—a kiss from Irene for her hero!
THE END