The Hero of Garside School

by J. Harwood Panting

  CHAPTER XXXVII

  THE LETTERS AT THE TUCK-SHOP

  This time Paul did not move--he could not. He was as one rooted to thespot. Fortunately, Mr. Weevil did not come to that side of the curtainwhere he was crouching, but passed through on the other side. It was nottill he had hastened past Paul that the power of movement returned tohis limbs. To remain there longer was useless. He had heard enough--morethan enough. But he was unable to think clearly in that tunnel. The airseemed to stifle him; he must get outside.

  So he followed in the master's footsteps, taking care, however, to keepa good distance between them. At length he reached the entrance. Hewaited a minute or two, then cautiously lifted the circular piece ofwood that covered the entrance, and made his way through the undergrowthto the open.

  By that time Mr. Weevil had disappeared from view.

  "Am I awake or dreaming?" Paul asked himself, as he drew a deep breathof relief.

  It seemed, indeed, like a dream--or, rather, a nightmare--that cave, thetwo conspirators, the conversation he had overheard about the taking ofSheerness by the Dutch, the advance on Upnor Castle, and, lastly, theappearance on the scene of Mr. Weevil.

  What was he to do? How was he to act? He was face to face with the samedilemma that had confronted him when Hibbert had confessed to him hisrelationship to Zuker. The more he thought of it, the more difficult itseemed to move. He was bound hand and foot by the promise he had madeto Hibbert. How could he be false to that promise--how could he giveinformation which might cause his death?

  Strange to say, his confidence in Mr. Weevil had grown by what he hadoverheard at that interview. It was true enough that the master seemedinvolved in some way in the schemes of Zuker, but it seemed equallycertain that he was against them. The words he had overheard were stillringing in his ears: "You wish to drive me back to the Fatherland, andkeep all to yourself, my boy--the boy of your dead sister!" Thingsseemed clearer to Paul. The master's purpose seemed clearer. It was hislove for his nephew--for Hibbert--which had involved him in the schemesof Zuker. Paul had disliked and suspected Mr. Weevil, but, curiouslyenough, he now seemed to understand better than ever he had understoodbefore, and that understanding was to the advantage rather than thedisadvantage of the master.

  "The hand of a Higher than man is in it." Those were the master's words.They had been spoken from his heart; there was no doubt of that. Thoughthey had failed to move Zuker, they had moved Paul strangely. Yes; thehand of a Higher than man was in it, and the designs of Zuker wouldcertainly be overturned.

  "I wish Mr. Moncrief had answered my letter, though," he said tohimself, as he returned to the school. It must have miscarried. Hedetermined to question Hibbert about it again that very evening.

  So when the evening came he went to the sick-room, and the nurse, whowas now in attendance, gladly vacated her place at the bedside to him.As usual, Hibbert had been looking forward to Paul's visit, and the thinwhite face was at once all sunshine.

  "I'm feeling ever so much better," he said, in answer to Paul'sinquiries. "I'm feeling quite strong. I shall soon be out again if I goon like this. Do you think the fellows will be pleased to see me?"

  "Of course they will!"

  "I was never very popular, you see," Hibbert went on thoughtfully. "Itwas all my fault. I never took any interest in the sports. I mean to bedifferent when I get off this wretched bed--turn over a new leaf; go infor footer, cricket, and that sort of thing. I don't see why I shouldn'tdo as well as the rest of them, do you, Percival?"

  "I don't see why," answered Paul cheerfully.

  "And there's a lot of other things I mean to do. Do you know, I've beenthinking over so much to-day about our being at the same school--howwonderful it all is that you and I should be at Garside. And when I getout again, do you know what I mean to do?"

  Paul shook his head. He was looking at the face, which seemed to growsmaller and smaller, and wondering whether Hibbert would get out again.

  "I mean to do my best to pay on that debt my father owed yourfather--the debt that never has been paid. That'll be something to livefor and work for, and God helping me, I'll do it--do it! Don't say thatyou don't wish it--that you don't want it."

  "Certainly not," answered Paul, very softly, falling in with his mood."You shall do as you think best when you get out again."

  There was silence between them for a few moments. Hibbert lay with hishands crossed on his breast and his eyes upturned to the ceiling.

  "What have you been doing this afternoon, Percival?" he suddenly asked,as his eyes went back again to Paul's face.

  The question took Paul by surprise. How could he tell Hibbert what hehad been doing that afternoon--the discovery he had made, what he hadseen and what he had heard in the cave?

  "Doing?"

  "Yes. Half-holiday, wasn't it? I still keep count of holidays, you see."

  Hibbert smiled.

  "Oh, I went for a walk!"

  "By yourself?"

  "By myself." Paul could see that the boy's eyes were scanning his facecuriously, so he added quickly: "I'm rather fond of walking by myself."

  "Have you heard anything about the flag?"

  "How did you come to know that it was gone?" Paul asked, astonished, forhe had thought it better not to trouble him with the information.

  "Oh, Mrs. Trounce told me. I get her to tell me any special news. I liketo know what's going on in the school. Matron's a good sort. It was abeastly shame to take the flag, whoever did it. Have they got any clue?"

  "Not yet."

  "I expect the Beetles had a hand in it. What do you think?"

  "I scarcely know what to think. It's a mystery. You haven't beenclimbing to the turret in your sleep, and hauling the flag down just forthe fun of the thing, have you?"

  The idea quite tickled Hibbert, for he laughed outright.

  "By the by," said Paul, turning the conversation to the purpose forwhich he had come to that room, "you recollect that letter I gave you topost a few weeks back?"

  "Yes."

  "You're quite certain you posted it?"

  "Quite certain. I think that I said so at the time."

  Paul noticed that though Hibbert was quite certain that he had postedthe letter he spoke with some hesitation.

  "Yes, yes; you said so at the time--that's quite right. But I waswondering whether by any chance you might have given it to some otherboy to post."

  "No; I put it in the letter-box with my own hands." Hibbert againhesitated for a moment, then added; "Something did happen, but I did notthink it worth while to worry you about it."

  "What was it?" Paul asked eagerly.

  "I was blockhead enough to run full tilt against Mr. Weevil when I gotoutside, and--and he caught sight of your letter."

  "Caught sight of my letter! And what did he do?"

  "Made me go to his room. He asked me who sent me with the letter, and Iwas obliged to tell him. It didn't matter, did it?"

  "It didn't matter," repeated Paul, his throat suddenly becoming parched."Well, well, what happened then?"

  "He took the letter to his room, but came back with it in a minute or soand handed it back to me. He said that you had broken the rules of theschool in sending off a letter without the knowledge of the masters, buthe would overlook the offence, for--for my sake. That's the reason Ididn't make a fuss about it to you."

  "He said that--Mr. Weevil said that? And he gave you back my letter?You're quite certain it was the same?"

  "Oh, quite certain! I thought perhaps he might have opened it, as hesaid he had a right to, so I looked at it to make sure it was the same.It was the same--in your handwriting. I could tell that anywhere. Butwhat makes you ask? Has it miscarried?"

  "I hope not. I haven't had an answer yet--that's all. I dare say I shallget one presently, so don't you worry about it."

  To prevent him doing so, Paul turned the conversation again to othermatters, and then went out. The information Paul had given him about theletter set him thinking. What had the m
aster done with his letter in thefew brief moments he had had it in his possession away from Hibbert? Hadhe opened it and read it? If so, was the letter he had handed back toHibbert to post the same letter that he--Paul--had written? to Mr.Moncrief? Hibbert was sure that it was--sure that it was in hishandwriting. In any case, a letter had been posted to Mr. Moncrief. Whatletter was it?

  In this state of perplexity, Paul determined to write briefly to Mr.Moncrief again. That was the only way in which all doubt could be ended.

  So he wrote a note stating that he had written a letter of someimportance a few weeks since, and wishing to know as soon as possiblewhether or not it had been received. This letter he directed the same asbefore--"W. Moncrief, Esq., Redmead, Oakville, Kent." He determined thatthis time he would post the letter himself; so the next day, watchinghis opportunity, he slipped from the grounds, and posted it at thevillage post-office.

  "It can't go wrong now," he said to himself, as he retraced hisfootsteps.

  Meanwhile, Plunger and Moncrief minor were thrown into a state of greatexcitement by finding letters awaiting them at the adjacent tuck-shop.Plunger tore the envelope open.

  Immediately he drew out the letter and glanced at it he groaned. Hisgroan was echoed by Harry. On the top of Plunger's letter was arudely-designed facsimile of a cockroach. On the top of Harry's letterwas a similarly grotesque design.

  Beneath it, in scarcely less grotesque handwriting, as though one of thelegs of the cockroach had been dipped in ink and made to trace wordsupon the paper, was the following:

  "Brother of the Mystic Order,--Greeting from the Brethren. Meetingto-morrow afternoon at headquarters. Time, half-past three sharp. Be notabsent at thy peril."

  Then followed the lines which Plunger so well remembered--the wordswhich had formed part of the incantation of the "Mystic Circle:"

  "Whene'er thou hear'st thy chieftain's call, Rest not, pause not, hither crawl, Or to the realms of Creepy-crawly, Shivery-shaky, we will haul thee."

  Plunger groaned again. Harry again echoed it.

  "What are you making that row for, you little ass?" cried Plungertestily.

  "Thought I'd cheer you up a bit. You look just awful, Plunger!"

  "You look worse than that! Ever seen a petrified mummy? No? Well, justlook at yourself in the glass, then! What's your letter about?"

  They exchanged letters, and found that they were in precisely the sameterms--that both were summonses for them to appear before "the MysticOrder" at the same date and hour.