Vice Versa; or, A Lesson to Fathers

by F. Anstey

  15. _The Rubicon_

  "My three schoolfellows, Whom I will trust--as I will adders fanged; They bear the mandate."

  Paul never quite knew how the remainder of that day passed at CrichtonHouse. He was ordered to join a class which was more or less engagedwith some kind of work: he had a hazy idea that it was Latin, though itmay have been Greek; but he was spared the necessity of taking anyactive part in the proceedings, as Mr. Blinkhorn was not disposed to betoo exacting with a boy who in one short morning had endured a sentenceof expulsion, a lecture, the immediate prospect of a flogging, and apaternal visit, and, as before, mercifully left him alone.

  His classmates, however, did not show the same chivalrous delicacy; andPaul had to suffer many unmannerly jests and gibes at his expense,frequent and anxious inquiries as to the exact nature of his treatmentin the dining-room, with sundry highly imaginative versions of the same,while there was much candid and unbiassed comment on the appearance andconduct of himself and his son.

  But he bore it unprotesting--or, rather, he scarcely noticed it; for allhis thoughts were now entirely taken up by one important subject--thetime and manner of his escape.

  Thanks to Dick's thoughtless liberality, he had now ample funds to carryhim safely home. It was hardly likely that any more unexpected claimscould be brought against him now, particularly as he had no intentionof publishing his return to solvency. He might reasonably considerhimself in a position to make his escape at the very first favourableopportunity.

  When would that opportunity present itself? It must come soon. He couldnot wait long for it. Any hour might yet see him pounced upon andflogged heartily for some utterly unknown and unsuspected transgression;or the golden key which would unlock his prison bars might be lost insome unlucky moment; for his long series of reverses had made him lothto trust to Fortune, even when she seemed to look smilingly once moreupon him.

  Fortune's countenance is apt to be so alarmingly mobile with someunfortunates.

  But in spite of the new facilities given him for escape, and his strongmotives for taking advantage of them, he soon found to his utter dismaythat he shrank from committing himself to so daring and dangerous acourse, just as much as when he had tried to make a confidant of theDoctor.

  For, after all, could he be sure of himself? Would his ill-luck sufferhim to seize the one propitious moment, or would that fatalself-distrust and doubt that had paralysed him for the past week seizehim again just at the crisis?

  Suppose he did venture to take the first irrevocable step, could he relyon himself to go through the rest of his hazardous enterprise? Was hecool and wary enough? He dared not expect an uninterrupted run. Had heruses and expedients at command on any sudden check?

  If he could not answer all these doubts favourably, was it not sheermadness to take to flight at all?

  He felt a dismal conviction that his success would have to depend, noton his own cunning, but on the forbearance or blindness of others. Theslightest _contretemps_ must infallibly upset him altogether.

  The fact was, he had all his life been engaged in the less eventful andcontentious branches of commerce. His will had seldom had to come incontact with others, and when it did so, he had found means, being of aprudent and cautious temperament, of avoiding disagreeable personalconsequences by timely compromises or judicious employment of delegates.He had generally found his fellow-men ready to meet him reasonably as anequal or a superior.

  But now he must be prepared to see in everyone he met a possible enemy,who would hand him over to the tyrant on the faintest suspicion. Theywere spies to be baffled or disarmed, pursuers to be eluded. Thesmallest slip in his account of himself would be enough to undo him.

  No wonder that, as he thought over all this, his heart quailed withinhim.

  They say--the paradox-mongers say--that it requires a far higher degreeof moral courage for a soldier in action to leave the ranks under fireand seek a less distinguished position towards the rear, than wouldcarry him on with the rest to charge a battery.

  This may be true, though it might not prove a very valuable defence at acourt-martial; but, at all events, Mr. Bultitude found, when it came tothe point, that it was almost impossible for him to screw up his courageto run away.

  It is not a pleasant state, this indecision whether to stay passivelyand risk the worst or avoid it by flight, and the worst of it is that,whatever course is eventually forced upon us, it finds us equallyunprepared, and more liable from such indecision to bungle miserably inthe sequel.

  Paul might never have gained heart to venture, but for an unpleasantincident that took place during dinner and a discovery he made after it.

  They happened to have a particularly unpopular pudding that day; apallid preparation of suet, with an infrequent currant or two embalmedin it, and Paul was staring at his portion of this delicacydisconsolately enough, wondering how he should contrive to consume and,worse still, digest it, when his attention was caught by Jolland, whosat directly opposite him.

  That young gentleman, who evidently shared the general prejudice againstthe currant pudding, was inviting Mr. Bultitude's attention to a littlecontrivance of his own for getting rid of it, which consisted indelicately shovelling the greater part of what was on his plate into alarge envelope held below the table to receive it.

  This struck Paul as a heaven-sent method of avoiding the difficulty, andhe had just got the envelope which had held Barbara's letter out of hispocket, intending to follow Jolland's example, when the Doctor's voicemade him start guiltily and replace the envelope in his pocket.

  "Jolland," said the Doctor, "what have you got there?"

  "An envelope, sir," explained Jolland, who had now got the remains ofhis pudding safely bestowed.

  "What is in that envelope?" said the Doctor, who happened to have beenwatching him.

  "In the envelope, sir? Pudding, sir," said Jolland, as if it were themost natural thing in the world to send bulky portions of pudding bypost.

  "And why did you place pudding in the envelope?" inquired the Doctor inhis deepest tone.

  Jolland felt a difficulty in explaining that he had done so because hewished to avoid eating it, and with a view to interring it later on inthe playground: he preferred silence.

  "Shall I tell you why you did it, sir?" thundered the Doctor. "You didit, because you were scheming to obtain a second portion--because youdid not feel yourself able to eat both portions at your leisure here,and thought to put by a part to devour in secret at a future time. It'sa most painful exhibition of pure piggishness. There shall be nopocketing at this table, sir. You will eat that pudding under my eye atonce, and you will stay in and write out French verbs for two days. Thatwill put an end to any more gorging in the garden for a time, at least."

  Jolland seemed stupefied, though relieved, by the unexpectedconstruction put upon his conduct, as he gulped down the interceptedfragments of pudding, while the rest diligently cleared their plateswith as much show of appreciation as they could muster.

  Mr. Bultitude shuddered at this one more narrow escape. If he had beendetected--as he must have been in another instant--in smuggling puddingin an envelope he might have incautiously betrayed his real motives, andthen, as the Doctor was morbidly sensitive concerning all complaints ofthe fare he provided, he would have got into worse trouble than theunfortunate Jolland, to say nothing of the humiliation of being detectedin such an act.

  It was a solemn warning to him of the dangers he was exposed to hourly,while he lingered within those walls; but his position was still morestrongly brought home to him by the terrible discovery he made shortlyafterwards.

  He was alone in the schoolroom, for the others had all gone down intothe playground, except Jolland, who was confined in one of theclass-rooms below, when the thought came over him to test the truth ofDick's hint about a name cut on the Doctor's writing-table.

  He stole up to it guiltily, and, lifting the slanting desk which stoodthere, examined the surface bel
ow. Dick had been perfectly correct.There it was, glaringly fresh and distinct, not large but very deeplycut and fearfully legible. "R. Bultitude." It might have been done thatday. Dick had probably performed it out of bravado, or under theimpression that he was not going to return after the holidays.

  Paul dropped the desk over the fatal letters with a shudder. Theslightest accidental shifting of it must disclose them--nothing but amiracle could have kept them concealed so long. When they did come tolight, he knew from what he had seen of the Doctor, that the act wouldbe considered as an outrage of the blackest and most desperate kind. Hewould most unquestionably get a flogging for it!

  He fetched a large pewter ink-pot, and tried nervously to blacken theletters with the tip of a quill, to make them, if possible, rather lessobtrusive than they were. All in vain; they only stood out with morestartling vividness when picked out in black upon the brown-staineddeal. He felt very like a conscience-stricken murderer trying to hide acorpse that _wouldn't_ be buried. He gave it up at last, having onlymade a terrible mess with the ink.

  That settled it. He must fly. The flogging must be avoided at allhazards. If an opportunity delayed its coming, why, he must do withoutthe opportunity--he must make one. For good or ill, his mind was made upnow for immediate flight.

  All that afternoon, while he sat trying to keep his mind upon long sumsin Bills of Parcels, which disgusted him as a business man, by theglaring improbability of their details, his eye wandered furtively downthe long tables to where the Doctor sat at the head of the class. Everychance movement of the principal's elbow filled him with a sickeningdread. A hundred times did those rudely carved letters seem about tostart forth and denounce him.

  It was a disquieting afternoon for Paul.

  But the time dragged wearily on, and still the desk loyally kept itssecret. The dusk drew on and the gas-burners were lit. The younger boyscame up from the lower class-room and were sent out to play; the Doctorshortly afterwards dismissed his own class to follow them, and Paul andhis companions had the room to themselves.

  He sat there on the rough form with his slate before him, hearinghalf-unconsciously the shouts, laughter, and ring of feet coming up fromthe darkness outside, and the faint notes of a piano, which filteredthrough the double doors from one of the rooms, where a boy waspractising Haydn's "Surprise," from Hamilton's exercise book, a surprisewhich he rendered as a mildly interjectional form of astonishment.

  All the time Paul was racked with an intense burning desire to get upand run for it then, before it became too late; but cold fits of doubtand fear preserved him from such lunacy--he would wait, his chance mightcome before long.

  His patience was rewarded; the Doctor came in, looking at his watch, andsaid, "I think these boys have had enough of it, Mr. Tinkler, eh? Youcan send them out now till tea-time."

  Mr. Tinkler, who had been entangling himself frightfully in intricatecalculations upon the blackboard, without making a single convert, wasonly too glad to take advantage of the suggestion, and Paul followed therest into the playground with a sense of relief.

  The usual "chevy" was going on there, with more spirit than usual,perhaps, because the darkness allowed of practical jokes and surprises,and offered great facilities for paying off old grudges with secrecy anddespatch, and as the Doctor had come to the door of the greenhouse, andwas looking on, the players exerted themselves still more, till the"prison" to which most of one side had been consigned by being run downand touched by their fleeter enemies was filled with a long line ofcaptives holding hands and calling out to be released.

  Paul, who had run out vaguely from his base, was promptly pursued andmade prisoner by an unnecessarily vigorous thump in the back, afterwhich he took his place at the bottom of the line of imprisoned ones.

  But the enemy's spirit began to slacken; one after another of theplayers still left to the opposite side succeeded in outrunning pursuitand touching the foremost prisoner for the time being, so as to set himfree by the rules of the game. The Doctor went in again, and the enemyrelapsed as usual into total indifference, so that Paul, without exactlyknowing how, soon found himself the only one left in gaol, unnoticed andapparently forgotten.

  He could not see anything through the darkness, but he heard the voicesof the boys disputing at the other side of the playground; he lookedround; at his right was the indistinct form of a large laurel bush,behind that he knew was the playground gate. Could it be that his chancehad come at last?

  He slipped behind the laurel and waited, holding his breath; the disputestill went on; no one seemed to have noticed him, probably the darknessprevented all chance of that; he went on tip-toe to the gate--it was notlocked.

  He opened it very carefully a little way; it was forbearing enough notto creak, and the next moment he was outside, free to go where he would!

  Escape, after all, was simple enough when he came to try it; he couldhardly believe at first that he really was free at last; free with moneyenough in his pocket to take him home, with the friendly darkness tocover his retreat; free to go back and confront Dick on his own ground,and, by force, or fraud, get the Garuda Stone into his own hands oncemore.

  As yet he never doubted that it would be easy enough to convince hishousehold, if necessary, of the truth of his story, and enlist them oneand all on his side; all that he required, he thought, was caution; hemust reach the house unobserved, and wait and watch, and the deuce wouldbe in it if the stone were not safe in his pocket again before twelvehours had gone by.

  All this time he was still within a hundred yards or so of theplayground wall; he must decide upon some particular route, somedefinite method of ordering his flight; to stay where he was any longerwould clearly be unwise, yet, where should he go first?

  If he went to the station at once, how could he tell that he should belucky enough to catch a train without having to wait long for it, andunless he did that, he would almost certainly be sought for first on thestation platform, and might be caught before a train was due?

  At last, with an astuteness he had not suspected himself of possessing,which was probably the result of the harrowing experiences he had latelyundergone, he hit upon a plan of action. "I'll go to a shop," hethought, "and change this sovereign, and ask to look at atimetable--then, if I find I can catch a train at once, I'll run for it;if one is not due for some time, I can hang about near the station tillit comes in."

  With this intention he walked on towards the town till he came to asmall terrace of shops, when he went into the first, which was astationer's and toy-dealer's, with a stock in trade of cheap wooden toysand incomprehensible games, drawing slates, penny packets of stationeryand cards of pen and pencil-holders, and a particularly stuffyatmosphere; the proprietor, a short man with a fat white face with arich glaze all over it and a fringe of ragged brown whisker meetingunder his chin, was sitting behind the counter posting up his ledger.

  Paul looked round the shop in search of something to purchase, and atlast said, more nervously than he expected to do, "I want a pencil-case,one which screws up and down." He thought a pencil-case would be aninnocent, unsuspicious thing to ask for. The man set rows of cardscontaining pencil-cases of every imaginable shape on the counter beforehim, and when Mr. Bultitude had chosen and paid for one, the stationerasked if there would be anything else, and if he might send it for him."You're one of Dr. Grimstone's young gentlemen up at Crichton House,aren't you, sir?" he added.

  A guilty dread of discovery made Paul anxious to deny this at once."No," he said; "oh no; no connection with the place. Ah, could you allowme to look at a time-table?"

  "Certainly, sir; expectin' some one to-night or to-morrow p'raps. Let mesee," he said, consulting a table which hung behind him. "There's atrain from Pancras comes in in half an hour from now, 6.5 that is;there's another doo at 8.15, and one at 9.30. Then from Liverpool Streetthey run----"

  "Thank you," said Mr. Bultitude, "but--but I want the up-trains."

  "Ah," said the man, with a rather peculiar intonation,
"I thought maybeyour par or mar was comin' down. Ain't Dr. Grimstone got the times thetrains go?"

  "Yes," said Paul desperately, without very well knowing what he said,"yes, he has, but ah, not for this month; he--he sent me to inquire."

  "Did he though?" said the stationer. "I thought you wasn't one of hisyoung gentlemen?"

  Mr. Bultitude saw what a fearful trap he had fallen into and stoodspeechless.

  "Go along with you!" said the little stationer at last, with a notunkindly grin. "Lor bless you, I knew your face the minnit you come in.To go and tell me a brazen story like that! You're a young pickle, youare!"

  Mr. Bultitude began to shuffle feebly towards the door. "Pickle, eh?" heprotested in great discomposure. "No, no. Heaven knows I'm no pickle.It's of no consequence about those trains. Don't trouble. Good eveningto you."

  "Stop," said the man, "don't be in such a nurry now. You tell me whatyou want to know straightforward, and I don't mean to say as I won'thelp you so far as I can. Don't be afraid of my telling no tales. I'vebin a schoolboy myself in my time, bless your 'art. I shouldn't wondernow if I couldn't make a pretty good guess without telling at whatyou're after. You've bin a catchin' of it hot, and you want to make aclean bolt of it. I ain't very far off, now, am I?"

  "No," said Paul; for something in the man's manner inspired confidence."I do want to make a bolt of it. I've been most abominably treated."

  "Well, look here, I ain't got no right to interfere; and if you'recaught, I look to you not to bring my name in. I don't want to get intotrouble up at Crichton House and lose good customers, you see. But Ilike the looks of you, and you've always dealt 'ere pretty regular. Idon't mind if I give you a lift. Just see here. You want to get off toLondon, don't you? What for is your business, not mine. Well, there's atrain, express, stops at only one station on the way, in at 5.50. It'stwenty minnits to six now. If you take that road just oppersite, it'llbring you out at the end of the Station Road; you can do it easy in tenminnits and have time to spare. So cut away, and good luck to you?"

  "I'm vastly obliged to you," said Paul, and he meant it. It was a newexperience to find anyone offering him assistance. He left the closelittle shop, crossed the road, and started off in the directionindicated to him at a brisk trot.

  His steps rang out cheerfully on the path ironbound with frost. He wasalmost happy again under the exhilarating glow of unusual exercise andthe excitement of escape and regained freedom.

  He ran on, past a series of villa residences enclosed in varnishedpalings and adorned with that mediaeval abundance of turrets, balconies,and cheap stained-glass, which is accepted nowadays as a guarantee ofthe tenant's culture, and a satisfactory substitute for effectivedrainage. After the villas came a church, and a few yards farther on theroad turned with a sharp curve into the main thoroughfare leading to thestation.

  He was so near it that he could hear the shrill engine whistles, and thebanging of trucks on the railway sidings echoed sharply from theneighbouring houses. He was saved, in sight of haven at last!

  Full of delight at the thought, he put on a still greater pace, andturning the corner without looking, ran into a little party of three,which was coming in the opposite direction.

  Fate's vein of irony was by no means worked out yet. As he wasrecovering from the collision, and preparing to offer or accept anapology, as the case might be, he discovered to his horror that he hadfallen amongst no strangers.

  The three were his old acquaintances, Coker, Coggs, and the virtuousChawner--of whom he had fondly hoped to have seen the last for ever!

  The moral and physical shock of such an encounter took all Mr.Bultitude's remaining breath away. He stood panting under the sicklyrays of a street-lamp, the very incarnation of helpless, hopelessdismay.

  "Hallo!" said Coker, "it's young Bultitude!"

  "What do you mean by cannoning into a fellow like this?" said Coggs."What are you up to out here, eh?"

  "If it comes to that," said Paul, casting about for some explanation ofhis appearance, "what are you up to here?"

  "Why," said Chawner, "if you want to know, Dick, we've been to fetch the_St. James' Gazette_ for the Doctor. He said I might go if I liked, andI asked for Coker and Coggs to come too; because there was something Iwanted to tell them, very important, and I have told them, haven't I,Corny?"

  Coggs growled sulkily; Coker gave a tragic groan, and said: "I don'tcare when you tell, Chawner. Do it to-night if you like. Let's talkabout something else. Bultitude hasn't told us yet how he came out hereafter us."

  His last words suggested a pretext to Paul, of which he hastened to makeuse. "Oh," he said, "I? I came out here, after you, to say that Dr.Grimstone will not require the _St. James' Gazette_. He wants the_Globe_ and, ah, the _Star_ instead."

  It did not sound a very probable combination; but Paul used the firstnames that occurred to him, and, as it happened, aroused no suspicions,for the boys read no newspapers.

  "Well, we've got the other now," said Coker. "We shall have to go backand get the fellow at the bookstall to change it, I suppose. Come on,you fellows!"

  This was at least a move in the right direction; for the three began atonce to retrace their steps. But, unfortunately, all these explanationshad taken time, and before they had gone many yards, Mr. Bultitude washorrified to hear the station-bell ring loudly, and immediately after acloud of white steam rose above the station roof as the London trainclanked cumbrously in, and was brought to with a prolonged screeching ofbrakes.

  The others were walking very slowly. At the present pace it would bealmost impossible to reach the train in time. He looked round at themanxiously. "H-hadn't we better run, don't you think?" he asked.

  "Run!" said Coker scornfully. "What for? I'm not going to run. You can,if you like."

  "Why, ah, really," said Paul briskly, very grateful for the permission;"do you know, I think I will!"

  And run he did, with all his might, rushing headlong through the gates,threading his way between the omnibuses and under the Roman noses of themild fly-horses in the enclosure, until at length he found himselfinside the little booking-office.

  He was not too late; the train was still at the platform, the enginegetting up steam with a dull roar. But he dared not risk detection bytravelling without a ticket. There was time for that, too. No one was atthe pigeon-hole but one old lady.

  But, unhappily, the old lady considered taking a ticket as a solemn riteto be performed with all due caution and deliberation. She had alreadycatechised the clerk upon the number of stoppages during her proposedjourney, and exacted earnest assurances from him that she would not becalled upon to change anywhere in the course of it; and as Paul came upshe was laying out the purchase-money for her ticket upon the ledge andcounting it, which, the fare being high and the coins mostly halfpence,seemed likely to take some time.

  "One moment, ma'am, if you please," cried Mr. Bultitude, panting anddesperate. "I'm pressed for time."

  "Now you've gone and put me out, little boy," said the old lady fussily."I shall have to begin all over again. Young man, will you take andcount the other end and see if it adds up right? There's a halfpennywrong somewhere; I know there is."

  "Now then," shouted the guard from the platform. "Any more going on?"

  "I'm going on!" said Paul. "Wait for me. First single to St. Pancras,quick!"

  "Drat the boy!" said the old lady angrily. "Do you think the world's togive way for you? Such impidence! Mind your manners, little boy, can'tyou? You've made me drop a threepenny bit with your scrouging!"

  "First single, five shillings," said the clerk, jerking out the preciousticket.

  "Right!" cried the guard at the same instant. "Stand back there, willyou!"

  Paul dashed towards the door of the booking-office which led to theplatform; but just as he reached it a gate slammed in his face with asharp click, through the bars of it he saw, with hot eyes, the tall,heavy carriages which had shelter and safety in them jolt heavily past,till even the red lamp on the last van
was quenched in the darkness.

  That miserable old woman had shattered his hopes at the very moment oftheir fulfilment. It was fate again!

  As he stood, fiercely gripping the bars of the gate, he heard Coggs'hateful voice again.

  "Hallo! so you haven't got the _Globe_ and the other thing after all,then; they've shut you out?"

  "Yes," said Mr. Bultitude in a hollow voice; "they've shut me out!"