The Pothunters

by P. G. Wodehouse

  [17]

  'WE'LL PROCEED TO SEARCH FOR THOMSON IF HE BE ABOVE THE GROUND'

  'How sweet the moonlight sleeps on yonder haystack,' observed Charterispoetically, as he and Tony, accompanied by Swift and Daintree, madetheir way across the fields to Parker's Spinney. Each carried a bicyclelamp, and at irregular intervals each broke into piercing yells, to themarked discomfort of certain birds roosting in the neighbourhood, whoburst noisily from the trees, and made their way with visible disgustto quieter spots.

  'There's one thing,' said Swift, 'we ought to hear him if he yells on anight like this. A yell ought to travel about a mile.'

  'Suppose we try one now,' said Charteris. 'Now. A concerted piece,_andante_ in six-eight time. Ready?'

  The next moment the stillness of the lovely spring night was shatteredby a hideous uproar.

  'R.S.V.P.,' said Charteris to space in general, as the echoes diedaway. But there was no answer, though they waited several minutes onthe chance of hearing some sound that would indicate Jim's whereabouts.

  'If he didn't hear that,' observed Tony, 'he can't be within threemiles, that's a cert. We'd better separate, I think.'

  They were at the ploughed field by Parker's Spinney now.

  'Anybody got a coin?' asked Daintree. 'Let's toss for directions.'

  Charteris produced a shilling.

  'My ewe lamb,' he said. 'Tails.'

  Tails it was. Charteris expressed his intention of striking westwardand drawing the Spinney. He and Tony made their way thither, Swift andDaintree moving off together in the opposite direction.

  'This is jolly rum,' said Tony, as they entered the Spinney. 'I wonderwhere the deuce the man has got to?'

  'Yes. It's beastly serious, really, but I'm hanged if I can helpfeeling as if I were out on a picnic. I suppose it's the night air.'

  'I wonder if we shall find him?'

  'Not the slightest chance in my opinion. There's not the least good inlooking through this forsaken Spinney. Still, we'd better do it.'

  'Yes. Don't make a row. We're trespassing.'

  They moved on in silence. Half-way through the wood Charteris caughthis foot in a hole and fell.

  'Hurt?' said Tony.

  'Only in spirit, thanks. The absolute dashed foolishness of this isbeing rapidly borne in upon me, Tony. What _is_ the good of it? Weshan't find him here.'

  Tony put his foot down upon these opinions with exemplary promptitude.

  'We must go on trying. Hang it all, if it comes to the worst, it'sbetter than frousting indoors.'

  'Tony, you're a philosopher. Lead on, Macduff.'

  Tony was about to do so, when a form appeared in front of him, blockingthe way. He flashed his lamp at the form, and the form, prefacing itsremarks with a good, honest swearword--of a variety peculiar to thatpart of the country--requested him, without any affectation ofceremonious courtesy, to take his something-or-other lamp out of his(the form's) what's-its-named face, and state his business briefly.

  'Surely I know that voice,' said Charteris. 'Archibald, my long-lostbrother.'

  The keeper failed to understand him, and said so tersely.

  'Can you tell _me_,' went on Charteris, 'if you have seen such athing as a boy in this Spinney lately? We happen to have lost one. Anordinary boy. No special markings. His name is Thomson, on the GrampianHills--'

  At this point the keeper felt that he had had enough. He made a divefor the speaker.

  Charteris dodged behind Tony, and his assailant, not observing this,proceeded to lay violent hands upon the latter, who had been standingwaiting during the conversation.

  'Let go, you fool,' cried he. The keeper's hand had come smartly intocontact with his left eye, and from there had taken up a position onhis shoulder. In reply the keeper merely tightened his grip.

  'I'll count three,' said Tony, 'and--'

  The keeper's hand shifted to his collar.

  'All right, then,' said Tony between his teeth. He hit up with his leftat the keeper's wrist. The hand on his collar loosed its grip. Itsowner rushed, and as he came, Tony hit him in the parts about the thirdwaistcoat-button with his right. He staggered and fell. Tony hit veryhard when the spirit moved him.

  'Come on, man,' said Charteris quickly, 'before he gets his wind again.We mustn't be booked trespassing.'

  Tony recognized the soundness of the advice. They were out of theSpinney in two minutes.

  'Now,' said Charteris, 'let's do a steady double to the road. This isno place for us. Come on, you man of blood.'

  When they reached the road they slowed down to a walk again. Charterislaughed.

  'I feel just as if we'd done a murder, somehow. What an ass that fellowwas to employ violence. He went down all right, didn't he?'

  'Think there'll be a row?'

  'No. Should think not. He didn't see us properly. Anyhow, he wasinterfering with an officer in the performance of his duty. So were we,I suppose. Well, let's hope for the best. Hullo!'

  'What's up?'

  'All right. It's only somebody coming down the road. Thought it mightbe the keeper at first. Why, it's Biffen.'

  It was Biffen. He looked at them casually as he came up, but stoppedshort in surprise when he saw who they were.

  'Mr Charteris!'

  'The same,' said Charteris. 'Enjoying a moonlight stroll, Biffen?'

  'But what are you doing out of the 'ouse at this time of night, MrCharteris?'

  'It's this way,' said Tony, 'all the House-prefects have been sent outto look for Thomson. He's not come back.'

  'Not come back, sir!'

  'No. Bit queer, isn't it? The last anybody saw of him was when hedropped out of the long race near Parker's Spinney.'

  'I seen him later than that, Mr Graham. He come on to the grounds whileI was mowing the cricket field.'

  'Not really? When was that?'

  'Four. 'Alf past four, nearly.'

  'What became of him?'

  ''E went off with Mr MacArthur. Mr MacArthur took 'im off 'ome with'im, I think, sir.'

  'By Jove,' said Charteris with enthusiasm. 'Now we _are_ on thetrack. Thanks awfully, Biffen, I'll remember you in my will. Come on,Tony.'

  'Where are you going now?'

  'Babe's place, of course. The Babe holds the clue to this business. Wemust get it out of him. 'Night, Biffen.'

  'Good-night, sir.'

  Arrived at the Babe's residence, they rang the bell, and, in theinterval of waiting for the door to be opened, listened with envy tocertain sounds of revelry which filtered through the windows of a roomto the right of the porch.

  'The Babe seems to be making a night of it,' said Charteris. 'Oh'--asthe servant opened the door--'can we see Mr MacArthur, please?'

  The servant looked doubtful on the point.

  'There's company tonight, sir.'

  'I knew he was making a night of it,' said Charteris to Tony. 'It's notMr MacArthur we want to see. It's--dash it, what's the Babe's name?'

  'Robert, I believe. Wouldn't swear to it.'

  'Mr Robert. Is he in?' It seemed to Charteris that the form of thisquestion smacked of Ollendorf. He half expected the servant to say 'No,but he has the mackintosh of his brother's cousin'. It produced thedesired effect, however, for after inviting them to step in, theservant disappeared, and the Babe came on the scene, wearing asingularly prosperous expression, as if he had dined well.

  'Hullo, you chaps,' he said.

  'Sir to you,' said Charteris. 'Look here, Babe, we want to know whatyou have done with Jim. He was seen by competent witnesses to go offwith you, and he's not come back. If you've murdered him, you might letus have the body.'

  'Not come back! Rot. Are you certain?'

  'My dear chap, every House-prefect on the list has been sent out tolook for him. When did he leave here?'

  The Babe reflected.

  'Six, I should think. Little after, perhaps. Why--oh Lord!'

  He broke off suddenly.

  'What's up?' asked Tony.

  'Why I sent h
im by a short cut through some woods close by here, andI've only just remembered there's a sort of quarry in the middle ofthem. I'll bet he's in there.'

  'Great Scott, man, what sort of a quarry? I like the calm way the Babetalks of sending unsuspecting friends into quarries. Deep?'

  'Not very, thank goodness. Still, if he fell down he might not be ableto get up again, especially if he'd hurt himself at all. Half a second.Let me get on some boots, and I'll come out and look. Shan't be long.

  When he came back, the three of them set out for the quarry.

  'There you are,' cried the Babe, with an entirely improper pride in hisvoice, considering the circumstances. 'What did I tell you?' Out of thedarkness in front of them came a shout. They recognized the voice atonce as Jim's.

  Tony uttered a yell of encouragement, and was darting forward to thespot from which the cry had come, when the Babe stopped him. 'Don't dothat, man,' he said. 'You'll be over yourself, if you don't look out.It's quite close here.'

  He flashed one of the lamps in front of him. The light fell on a blackopening in the ground, and Jim's voice sounded once more from thebowels of the earth, this time quite close to where they stood.

  'Jim,' shouted Charteris, 'where are you?'

  'Hullo,' said the voice, 'who's that? You might lug me out of here.'

  'Are you hurt?'

  'Twisted my ankle.'

  'How far down are you?'

  'Not far. Ten feet, about. Can't you get me out?'

  'Half a second,' said the Babe, 'I'll go and get help. You chaps hadbetter stay here and talk to him.' He ran off.

  'How many of you are there up there?' asked Jim.

  'Only Tony and myself,' said Charteris.

  'Thought I heard somebody else.'

  'Oh, that was the Babe. He's gone off to get help.'

  'Oh. When he comes back, wring his neck, and heave him down here,' saidJim. 'I want a word with him on the subject of short cuts. I say, isthere much excitement about this?'

  'Rather. All the House-prefects are out after you. We've been lookingin Parker's Spinney, and Tony was reluctantly compelled to knock out akeeper who tried to stop us. You should have been there. It was a rag.'

  'Wish I had been. Hullo, is that the Babe come back?'

  It was. The Babe, with his father and a party of friends arrayed inevening dress. They carried a ladder amongst them.

  The pungent remarks Jim had intended to address to the Babe had noopportunity of active service. It was not the Babe who carried him upthe ladder, but two of the dinner-party. Nor did the Babe have a handin the carrying of the stretcher. That was done by as many of theevening-dress brigade as could get near enough. They seemed to enjoyit. One of them remarked that it reminded him of South Africa. To whichanother replied that it was far more like a party of policemengathering in an 'early drunk' in the Marylebone Road. The processionmoved on its stately way to the Babe's father's house, and the lastTony and Charteris saw of Jim, he was the centre of attraction, andappeared to be enjoying himself very much.

  Charteris envied him, and did not mind saying so.

  'Why can't _I_ smash my ankle?' he demanded indignantly of Tony.

  He was nearing section five, sub-section three, of his discourse, whenthey reached Merevale's gates. It was after eleven, but they felt thatthe news they were bringing entitled them to be a little late.Charteris brought his arguments to a premature end, and Tony rang thebell. Merevale himself opened the door to them.

  [18]

  IN WHICH THE AFFAIRS OF VARIOUS PERSONS ARE WOUND UP

  'Well,' he said, 'you're rather late. Any luck?'

  'We've found him, sir,' said Tony.

  'Really? That's a good thing. Where was he?'

  'He'd fallen down a sort of quarry place near where MacArthur lives.MacArthur took him home with him to tea, and sent him back by a shortcut, forgetting all about the quarry, and Thomson fell in and couldn'tget out again.'

  'Is he hurt?'

  'Only twisted his ankle, sir.'

  'Then where is he now?'

  'They carried him back to the house.'

  'MacArthur's house?'

  'Yes, sir.'

  'Oh, well, I suppose he will be all right then. Graham, just go acrossand report to the Headmaster, will you? You'll find him in his study.'

  The Head was immensely relieved to hear Tony's narrative. After muchinternal debate he had at last come to the conclusion that Jim musthave run away, and he had been wondering how he should inform hisfather of the fact.

  'You are certain that he is not badly hurt, Graham?' he said, when Tonyhad finished his story.

  'Yes, sir. It's only his ankle.'

  'Very good. Good-night, Graham.'

  The Head retired to bed that night filled with a virtuous resolve toseek Jim out on the following day, and speak a word in season to him onthe subject of crime in general and betting in particular. This plan heproceeded to carry out as soon as afternoon school was over. When,however, he had arrived at the Babe's house, he found that there wasone small thing which he had left out of his calculations. He hadcounted on seeing the invalid alone. On entering the sick-room he foundthere Mrs MacArthur, looking as if she intended to remain where she satfor several hours--which, indeed, actually was her intention--and MissMacArthur, whose face and attitude expressed the same, only, ifanything, more so. The fact was that the Babe, a very monument ofresource on occasions, had, as he told Jim, 'given them the tip not tolet the Old Man get at him, unless he absolutely chucked them out, youknow'. When he had seen the Headmaster approaching, he had gonehurriedly to Jim's room to mention the fact, with excellent results.

  The Head took a seat by the bed, and asked, with a touch ofnervousness, after the injured ankle. This induced Mrs MacArthur toembark on a disquisition concerning the ease with which ankles aretwisted, from which she drifted easily into a discussion of Rugbyfootball, its merits and demerits. The Head, after several vainattempts to jerk the conversation into other grooves, gave it up, andlistened for some ten minutes to a series of anecdotes about variousfriends and acquaintances of Mrs MacArthur's who had either twistedtheir own ankles or known people who had twisted theirs. The Head beganto forget what exactly he had come to say that afternoon. Jim lay andgrinned covertly through it all. When the Head did speak, his firstwords roused him effectually.

  'I suppose, Mrs MacArthur, your son has told you that we have had aburglary at the School?'

  'Hang it,' thought Jim, 'this isn't playing the game at all. Why talkshop, especially that particular brand of shop, here?' He wondered ifthe Head intended to describe the burglary, and then spring to his feetwith a dramatic wave of the hand towards him, and say, 'There, MrsMacArthur, is the criminal! There lies the viper on whom you havelavished your hospitality, the snaky and systematic serpent you havebeen induced by underhand means to pity. Look upon him, and loathe him._He_ stole the cups!'

  'Yes, indeed,' replied Mrs MacArthur, 'I have heard a great deal aboutit. I suppose you have never found out who it was that did it?'

  Jim lay back resignedly. After all, he had not done it, and if the Headliked to say he had, well, let him. _He_ didn't care.

  'Yes, Mrs MacArthur, we have managed to discover him.'

  'And who was it?' asked Mrs MacArthur, much interested.

  'Now for it,' said Jim to himself.

  'We found that it was a man living in the village, who had been doingsome work on the School grounds. He had evidently noticed the value ofthe cups, and determined to try his hand at appropriating them. He iswell known as a poacher in the village, it seems. I think that for thefuture he will confine himself to that--ah--industry, for he is hardlylikely ever to--ah--shine as a professional house-breaker. No.'

  'Oh, well, that must be a relief to you, I am sure, Mr Perceval. Thesepoachers are a terrible nuisance. They do frighten the birds so.'

  She spoke as if it were an unamiable eccentricity on the part of thepoachers, which they might be argued out of, if the matter were putbefore them
in a reasonable manner. The Head agreed with her and roseto go. Jim watched him out of the room and then breathed a deep,satisfying breath of relief. His troubles were at an end.

  In the meantime Barrett, who, having no inkling as to the rate at whichaffairs had been progressing since his visit to the Dingle, stillimagined that the secret of the hollow tree belonged exclusively toReade, himself, and one other, was much exercised in his mind about it.Reade candidly confessed himself baffled by the problem. Give himsomething moderately straightforward, and he was all right. This secretsociety and dark lantern style of affair was, he acknowledged, beyondhim. And so it came about that Barrett resolved to do the only thing hecould think of, and go to the Head about it. But before he had come tothis decision, the Head had received another visit from Mr Roberts, asa result of which the table where Sir Alfred Venner had placedPlunkett's pipe and other accessories so dramatically during a previousinterview, now bore another burden--the missing cups.

  Mr Roberts had gone to the Dingle in person, and, by adroit use of thedivinity which hedges a detective, had persuaded a keeper to lead himto the tree where, as Mr Stokes had said, the cups had been deposited.

  The Head's first act, on getting the cups, was to send for Welch, towhom by right of conquest they belonged. Welch arrived shortly beforeBarrett. The Head was just handing him his prizes when the latter cameinto the room. It speaks well for Barrett's presence of mind that hehad grasped the situation and decided on his line of action beforeWelch went, and the Head turned his attention to him.

  'Well, Barrett?' said the Head.

  'If you please, sir,' said Barrett, blandly, 'may I have leave to go toStapleton?'

  'Certainly, Barrett. Why do you wish to go?'

  This was something of a poser, but Barrett's brain worked quickly.

  'I wanted to send a telegram, sir.'

  'Very well. But'--with suspicion--'why did you not ask Mr Philpott?Your House-master can give you leave to go to Stapleton.'

  'I couldn't find him, sir.' This was true, for he had not looked.

  'Ah. Very well.'

  'Thank you, sir.'

  And Barrett went off to tell Reade that in some mysterious manner thecups had come back on their own account.

  When Jim had congratulated himself that everything had ended happily,at any rate as far as he himself was concerned, he had forgotten forthe moment that at present he had only one pound to his credit insteadof the two which he needed. Charteris, however, had not. The specialnumber of _The Glow Worm_ was due on the following day, and Jim'saccident left a considerable amount of 'copy' to be accounted for. Hequestioned Tony on the subject.

  'Look here, Tony, have you time to do any more stuff for _The GlowWorm?_

  'My dear chap,' said Tony, 'I've not half done my own bits. Ask Welch.'

  'I asked him just now. He can't. Besides, he only writes at about therate of one word a minute, and we must get it all in by tonight atbed-time. I'm going to sit up as it is to jellygraph it. What's up?'

  Tony's face had assumed an expression of dismay.

  'Why,' he said, 'Great Scott, I never thought of it before. If wejellygraph it, our handwriting'll be recognized, and that will give thewhole show away.'

  Charteris took a seat, and faced this difficulty in all its aspects.The idea had never occurred to him before. And yet it should have beenobvious.

  'I'll have to copy the whole thing out in copper-plate,' he saiddesperately at last. 'My aunt, what a job.'

  'I'll help,' said Tony. 'Welch will, too, I should think, if you askhim. How many jelly machine things can you raise?'

  'I've got three. One for each of us. Wait a bit, I'll go and askWelch.'

  Welch, having first ascertained that the matter really was a pressingone, agreed without hesitation. He had objections to spoiling his sleepwithout reason, but in moments of emergency he put comfort behind him.

  'Good,' said Charteris, when this had been settled, 'be here as soon asyou can after eleven. I tell you what, we'll do the thing in style, andbrew. It oughtn't to take more than an hour or so. It'll be rather arag than otherwise.'

  'And how about Jim's stuff?' asked Welch.

  'I shall have to do that, as you can't. I've done my own bits. I thinkI'd better start now.' He did, and with success. When he went to bed athalf-past ten, _The Glow Worm_ was ready in manuscript. Only thecopying and printing remained to be done.

  Charteris was out of bed and in the study just as eleven struck. Tonyand Welch, arriving half-an-hour later, found him hard at work copyingout an article of topical interest in a fair, round hand, quiteunrecognizable as his own.

  It was an impressive scene. The gas had been cut off, as it always waswhen the House went to bed, and they worked by the light of candles.Occasionally Welch, breathing heavily in his efforts to make hishandwriting look like that of a member of a board-school (secondstandard), blew one or more of the candles out, and the others gruntedfiercely. That was all they could do, for, for evident reasons, a vowof silence had been imposed. Charteris was the first to finish. Heleant back in his chair, and the chair, which at a reasonable hour ofthe day would have endured any treatment, collapsed now with a noiselike a pistol-shot.

  'Now you've done it,' said Tony, breaking all rules by speakingconsiderably above a whisper.

  Welch went to the door, and listened. The House was still. They settleddown once more to work. Charteris lit the spirit-lamp, and began toprepare the meal. The others toiled painfully on at their round-hand.They finished almost simultaneously.

  'Not another stroke do I do,' said Tony, 'till I've had something todrink. Is that water boiling yet?'

  It was at exactly a quarter past two that the work was finished.

  'Never again,' said Charteris, looking with pride at the piles of_Glow Worms_ stacked on the table; 'this jelly business makes onebeastly sticky. I think we'll keep to print in future.'

  And they did. Out of the twenty or more numbers of _The Glow Worm_published during Charteris' stay at School, that was the only one thatdid not come from the press. Readers who have themselves triedjellygraphing will sympathize. It is a curious operation, but mostpeople will find one trial quite sufficient. That special number,however, reached a record circulation. The School had got itsjourney-money by the time it appeared, and wanted something to read inthe train. Jim's pound was raised with ease.

  Charteris took it round to him at the Babe's house, together with acopy of the special number.

  'By Jove,' said Jim. 'Thanks awfully. Do you know, I'd absolutelyforgotten all about _The Glow Worm_. I was to have writtensomething for this number, wasn't I?'

  And, considering the circumstances, that remark, as Charteris was atsome pains to explain to him at the time, contained--when you came toanalyse it--more cynical immorality to the cubic foot than any otherhalf-dozen remarks he (Charteris) had ever heard in his life.

  'It passes out of the realm of the merely impudent,' he said, with ahappy recollection of a certain favourite author of his, 'and soarsinto the boundless empyrean of pure cheek.'