[13]
SIR ALFRED SCORES
Soon after Jim had taken his departure, Mr Thompson, after waiting afew minutes in case the Headmaster had anything more to say, driftedsilently out of the room. The Head, like the gentleman in the ballad,continued to wear a worried look. The more he examined the matter, theless did he know what to make of it. He believed, as he had said to MrThompson, that Jim was entirely innocent. It was an incredible thing,he thought, that a public school boy, a School-prefect, too, into thebargain, should break out of his House and into a cricket pavilion,however great a crisis his finances might be undergoing. And then tosteal two of the prizes for the Sports. Impossible. Against this,however, must be placed the theft of the two pounds. It might occur toa boy, as indeed Mr Thompson had suggested, to steal the cups in orderto give the impression that a practised burglar had been at work. Therewas certainly something to be said in favour of this view. But he wouldnever believe such a thing. He was a good judge of character--aheadmaster generally is--and he thought he could tell when a boy wasspeaking the truth and when he was not.
His reflections were interrupted by a knock at the door. The butlerentered with a card on a tray. 'Sir Alfred Venner, M.P., BadgwickHall,' said--almost shouted--the card. He read the words without anyapparent pleasure.
'Is Sir Alfred here himself, Parker?' he said.
'He is, sir.'
The Headmaster sighed inaudibly but very wearily. He was feelingworried already, and he knew from experience that a _tete-a-tete_with Sir Alfred Venner, M.P., of Badgwick Hall, would worry him stillmore.
The Head was a man who tried his very hardest to like each and all ofhis fellow-creatures, but he felt bound to admit that he liked mostpeople a great, a very great, deal better than he liked the gentlemanwho had just sent in his card. Sir Alfred's manner always jarred uponhim. It was so exactly the antithesis of his own. He was quiet anddignified, and addressed everybody alike, courteously. Sir Alfred wasrestless and fussy. His manner was always dictatorial and generallyrude. When he had risen in the House to make his maiden speech, callingthe attention of the Speaker to what he described as 'a thoroughdraught', he had addressed himself with such severity to that official,that a party of Siamese noblemen, who, though not knowing a word ofEnglish, had come to listen to the debate, had gone away with theimpression that he was the prime minister. No wonder the Headmastersighed.
'Show him in, Parker,' said he resignedly.
'Yessir.'
Parker retired, leaving the Head to wonder what his visitor's grievancemight be this time. Sir Alfred rarely called without a grievance,generally connected with the trespassing of the School on his land.
'Good evening, Sir Alfred,' he said, as his visitor whirled into theroom.
'O-o-o, this sort of thing won't do, you know, Mr Perceval,' said SirAlfred fussily, adjusting a pair of gold pince-nez on his nose. TheHead's name, which has not before been mentioned, was the ReverendHerbert Perceval, M.A. He had shivered at the sound of the 'O-o-o'which had preceded Sir Alfred's remark. He knew, as did otherunfortunate people, that the great man was at his worst when he said'O-o-o'. In moments of comparative calm he said 'Er'.
'I can't put up with it, you know, Mr Perceval. It's too much. A greatdeal too much.'
'You refer to--?' suggested the Head, with a patience that did himcredit.
'This eternal trespassing and tramping in and out of my grounds allday.'
'You have been misinformed, I fear, Sir Alfred. I have not trespassedin your grounds for--ah--a considerable time.' The Head could notresist this thrust. In his unregenerate 'Varsity days he had been apower at the Union, where many a foeman had exposed himself to a verbalcounter from him with disastrous results. Now the fencing must be donewith buttons on the foils.
'You--what--I don't follow you, Mr Perceval.'
'I understand you to reproach me for trespassing and--ah--tramping inand out of your grounds all day. Was that not your meaning?'
Sir Alfred almost danced with impatience.
'No, no, no. You misunderstand me. You don't follow my drift.'
'In that case, I beg your pardon. I gathered from the extreme severityof your attitude towards me that I was the person to whom youreferred.'
'No, no, no. I've come here to complain of your boys.'
It occurred to the Head to ask if the complaint embraced the entire sixhundred of them, or merely referred to one of them. But he reflectedthat the longer he fenced, the longer his visitor would stay. And hedecided, in spite of the illicit pleasure to be derived from theexercise, that it was not worth while.
'Ah,' he said.
'Yes,' continued Sir Alfred, 'my keepers tell me the woods were full ofthem, sir.'
The Head suggested that possibly the keepers had exaggerated.
'Possibly. Possibly they may have exaggerated. But that is not thepoint. The nuisance is becoming intolerable, Mr Perceval, perfectlyintolerable. It is time to take steps.'
'I have already done all that can be done. I have placed your land outof bounds, considerably out of bounds indeed. And I inflict theseverest penalties when a breach of the rule is reported to me.'
'It's not enough. It's not nearly enough.'
'I can scarcely do more, I fear, Sir Alfred. There are more than sixhundred boys at St Austin's, and it is not within my power to placethem all under my personal supervision.'
Here the Head, who had an eye to the humorous, conjured up a picture ofsix hundred Austinians going for walks, two and two, the staff postedat intervals down the procession, and himself bringing up the rear. Hemade a mental mem. to laugh when his visitor had retired.
'H'm,' said the baffled M.P. thoughtfully, adjusting his pince-nez oncemore. ''M no. No, perhaps not. But'--here he brightened up--'you canpunish them when they do trespass.'
'That is so, Sir Alfred. I can and invariably do.'
'Then punish that what's-his-name, Plinkett, Plunkett--I've got thename down somewhere. Yes, Plunkett. I thought so. Punish Plunkett.'
'Plunkett!' said the Head, taken completely by surprise. He, in commonwith the rest of the world, had imagined Plunkett to be a perfectpattern of what should be. A headmaster, like other judges ofcharacter, has his failures.
'Plunkett. Yes, that is the name. Boy with spectacles. Good gracious,Mr Perceval, don't tell me the boy gave me a false name.'
'No. His name is Plunkett. Am I to understand that he was trespassingon your land? Surely there is some mistake? The boy's aSchool-prefect.'
Here it suddenly flashed upon his mind that he had used that expressionbefore in the course of the day, on the occasion when Mr Thompson firsttold him of his suspicions in connection with Jim. 'Why, Mr Thompson,the boy's a School-prefect,' had been his exact words. School-prefectshad been in his eyes above suspicion. It is a bad day for a school whenthey are not so. Had that day arrived for St Austin's? he askedhimself.
'He may be a School-prefect, Mr Perceval, but the fact remains that heis a trespasser, and ought from your point of view to be punished forbreaking bounds.'
The Head suddenly looked almost cheerful again.
'Of course,' he said, 'of course. I thought that there must be anexplanation. The rules respecting bounds, Sir Alfred, do not apply toSchool-prefects, only to the rest of the School.'
'Indeed?' said Sir Alfred. His tone should have warned the Head thatsomething more was coming, but it did not. He continued.
'Of course it was very wrong of him to trespass on your land, but Ihave no doubt that he did it quite unintentionally. I will speak tohim, and I think I can guarantee that he will not do it again.'
'Oh,' said his visitor. 'That is very gratifying, I am sure. Might Iask, Mr Perceval, if School-prefects at St Austin's have any otherprivileges?'
The Head began to look puzzled. There was something in his visitor'smanner which suggested unpleasant possibilities.
'A few,' he replied. 'They have a few technical privileges, which itwould be a matter of some little time to explain.'
'It must be very pleasant to be a prefect at St Austin's,' said SirAlfred nastily. 'Very pleasant indeed. Might I ask, Mr Perceval, if thetechnical privileges to which you refer include--smoking?'
The Head started as if, supposing such a thing possible, someone hadpinched him. He did not know what to make of the question. From theexpression on his face his visitor did not appear to be perpetrating ajoke.
'No,' he said sharply, 'they do not include smoking.'
'I merely asked because this was found by my keeper on the boy when hecaught him.'
He produced a small silver match-box. The Head breathed again. Thereputation of the School-prefect, though shaky, was still able to comeup to the scratch.
'A match-box is scarcely a proof that a boy has been smoking, I think,'said he. 'Many boys carry matches for various purposes, I believe. Imyself, though a non-smoker, frequently place a box in my pocket.'
For answer Sir Alfred laid a bloated and exceedingly vulgar-lookingplush tobacco-pouch on the table beside the match-box.
'That also,' he observed, 'was found in his pocket by my keeper.'
He dived his hand once more into his coat. 'And also this,' he said.
And, with the air of a card-player who trumps his opponent's ace, heplaced on the pouch a pipe. And, to make the matter, if possible,worse, the pipe was not a new pipe. It was caked within and colouredwithout, a pipe that had seen long service. The only mitigatingcircumstance that could possibly have been urged in favour of theaccused, namely that of 'first offence', had vanished.
'It is pleasant,' said Sir Alfred with laborious sarcasm, 'to find atrespasser doing a thing which has caused the dismissal of severalkeepers. Smoking in my woods I--will--not--permit. I will not have myproperty burnt down while I can prevent it. Good evening, Mr Perceval.'With these words he made a dramatic exit.
For some minutes after he had gone the Head remained where he stood,thinking. Then he went across the room and touched the bell.
'Parker,' he said, when that invaluable officer appeared, 'go across toMr Ward's House, and tell him I wish to see Plunkett. Say I wish to seehim at once.'
'Yessir.'
After ten minutes had elapsed, Plunkett entered the room, lookingnervous.
'Sit down, Plunkett.'
Plunkett collapsed into a seat. His eye had caught sight of the smokingapparatus on the table.
The Head paced the room, something after the fashion of the tiger atthe Zoo, whose clock strikes lunch.
'Plunkett,' he said, suddenly, 'you are a School-prefect.'
'Yes, sir,' murmured Plunkett. The fact was undeniable.
'You know the duties of a School-prefect?'
'Yes, sir.'
'And yet you deliberately break one of the most important rules of theSchool. How long have you been in the habit of smoking?'
Plunkett evaded the question.
'My father lets me smoke, sir, when I'm at home.'
(A hasty word in the reader's ear. If ever you are accused of smoking,please--for my sake, if not for your own--try to refrain from sayingthat your father lets you do it at home. It is a fatal mistake.)
At this, to employ a metaphor, the champagne of the Head's wrath, whichhad been fermenting steadily during his late interview, got the betterof the cork of self-control, and he exploded. If the Mutual Friend everhas grandchildren he will probably tell them with bated breath thestory of how the Head paced the room, and the legend of the things hesaid. But it will be some time before he will be able to speak about itwith any freedom. At last there was a lull in the storm.
'I am not going to expel you, Plunkett. But you cannot come back afterthe holidays. I will write to your father to withdraw you.' He pointedto the door. Plunkett departed in level time.
'What did the Old 'Un want you for?' asked Dallas, curiously, when hereturned to the study.
Plunkett had recovered himself by this time sufficiently to be able totell a lie.
'He wanted to tell me he'd heard from my father about my leaving.'
'About your leaving!' Dallas tried to keep his voice as free aspossible from triumphant ecstasy.
'Are you leaving? When?'
'This term.'
'Oh!' said Dallas. It was an uncomfortable moment. He felt that atleast some conventional expression of regret ought to proceed from him.
'Don't trouble to lie about being sorry,' said Plunkett with a sneer.
'Thanks,' said Dallas, gratefully, 'since you mention it, I ratherthink I won't.'
The Pothunters Page 13