CHAPTER XVI
The Observatory Window
Though Mrs. Morrison might be satisfied that Marjorie's letter toPrivate Hargreaves had been written in an excess of patriotism, she madeher feel the ban of her displeasure. She received her coldly when shebrought her home letters to be stamped, stopped her exeat, and did notremit a fraction of her imposition. She considered she had gaugedMarjorie's character--that thoughtless impulsiveness was one of hergravest faults, and that it would be well to teach her a lesson whichshe would remember for some time. Marjorie's hot spirits chafed againsther punishment. It was terribly hard to be kept from hockey practice.She missed the physical exercise as well as the excitement of the game.On three golden afternoons she had watched the others run across theshrubbery towards the playing-fields, and, taking her dejected way toher classroom, had spent the time writing at her desk. The fourth hockeyafternoon was one of those lovely spring days when nature seems tobeckon one out of doors into the sunshine. Sparrows were tweeting in theivy, and a thrush on the top branch of the almond tree trilled inrivalry with the blackbird that was building in the holly bush. Forhalf an hour Marjorie toiled away. Copying poetry is monotonous, thoughperhaps not very exacting work; she hated writing, and her head ached.After a morning spent at Latin, algebra, and chemistry, it seemedintolerable to be obliged to remain in the schoolroom. She threw downher pen and stretched her arms wearily, then strolled to the open windowand looked out.
A belt of trees hid the playing-fields, so it was impossible to catcheven a glimpse of the hockey. There was nothing to be seen but grass andbushes and a few clumps of daffodils, which stood out like golden starsagainst a background of green. Stop! what was that? Marjorie looked moreintently, and could distinguish a figure in hockey jersey andtam-o'-shanter coming along behind the bushes. As it crossed a spacebetween two rhododendrons she recognized it in a moment.
"Why, that's Chrissie!" she said to herself. "What in the name ofthunder is she doing slinking behind the shrubs? Oh, I know! Good oldgirl! She's coming to cheer me up, and, of course, doesn't want Norty oranyone to catch her. What a sport she is!"
Chrissie had disappeared, probably into the vestibule door, but Marjoriejudged that she would be coming upstairs directly, and in a spirit offun crouched down in a corner and hid behind the desks. As she hadexpected, the door opened a moment later, and her chum peeped inside,took a hasty glance round the room, and went away. That she should gowithout searching for and finding her friend was not at all whatMarjorie had calculated upon. She sprang up hastily and followed, but bythe time she had reached the door Chrissie had disappeared. Marjoriewalked a little way along the corridor. She was disappointed, and feltdecidedly bored with life. She longed for something--anything--to breakthe monotony of copying out poetry. Her eyes fell upon a staircase ather left.
Now on the school plan these stairs were marked "out of bounds", and tomount them was a breach of rules. They led to a glass observatory, whichformed a kind of tower over the main building of the College. A numberof theatrical properties were stored here--screens, and drop scenes, andboxes full of costumes. By special leave the prefects came up to fetchanything that was needed for acting, but to the ordinary school it wasforbidden ground. Marjorie stopped and thought. She had always longed toexplore the theatrical boxes. Everybody was out at hockey, and there wasnot a soul to see her and report her. The temptation was too great; shesuccumbed, and next moment was running up the stairs, all agog with thespirit of adventure. The door of the Observatory was open. It was not aremarkably large room, and was fairly well filled with the various stageproperties. Large windows occupied the four sides, and the roof was aglass dome. Marjorie peeped about, opened some of the boxes and examinedthe dresses, and inspected a variety of odd objects, such as pasteboardcrowns, fairies' wings, sceptres, wands, and swords. She was just aboutto try on a green-velvet Rumanian bodice when she turned in alarm. Stepswere heard coming up the staircase towards the Observatory. In aninstant Marjorie shut the box and slipped behind one of the screens. Shewas only just in time, for the next moment Miss Norton entered the room.Through a small rent in the oilcloth which covered the screen Marjoriecould see her plainly. She went to the window which faced the sea andgazed out long and earnestly. Then she opened one of the theatricalboxes, put something inside, and shut it again. One more look throughthe window and she left the room. The sound of her retreating footstepsdied down the stairs.
Marjorie had remained still, and scarcely daring to breathe. She waiteda moment or two, lest the teacher should return, then descended withextreme caution, scuttled back into the schoolroom, and started oncemore to copy poetry.
"It was a near squeak!" she thought. "The Acid Drop would have made afearful row if she'd caught me. It makes one feel rocky even to think ofit. Oh dear! I must brace up if I'm to get all the rest of this donebefore tea."
She wrote away wearily until the dressing-bell rang, then washed herhands and went into the hall. The one topic of conversation at thetables was hockey. The points of the various members of the teams werecriticized freely. It appeared to have been an exciting afternoon. Asense of ill usage filled Marjorie that she had not been present.
"I think the Empress was awfully hard on me," she groused. "I believeshe'd have let me off more lightly if Norty hadn't given her such a listof my crimes. I wish I could catch Norty tripping! But teachers never dotrip."
"Why, no, of course not. They wouldn't be teachers if they did," laughedBetty. "The Empress would soon pack them off."
"I wonder if they ever get into trouble and the Empress reprimands themin private," surmised Chrissie.
"Oh, that's likely enough, but of course we don't hear about it."
"Miss Gordon and Miss Hulton had a quarrel last year," said Sylvia.
"Yes, and Miss Hulton left. Everybody said she was obliged to go becauseMrs. Morrison took Miss Gordon's part."
That evening an unprecedented and extraordinary thing happened.Brackenfield College stood in a dip of the hills not very far away fromthe sea. As at most coast places, the rules in the neighbourhood ofWhitecliffe were exceedingly strict. Not the least little chink of alight must be visible after dusk, and blinds and curtains were drawnmost carefully over the windows. Being on the west coast, they had sofar been immune from air raids, but in war-time nobody knew from whatquarter danger might come, or whether a stray Zeppelin might some nightfloat overhead, or a cruiser begin shelling the town. On the whole, theCollege was considered as safe a place as any in England, and parentshad not scrupled to send their daughters back to school there. On thisparticular evening one of the housemaids had been into Whitecliffe, and,instead of returning by the high road and up the drive, took a short cutby the side lane and the kitchen garden. To her amazement, she noticedthat in one of the windows of the Observatory a bright light wasshining. It was on the side away from the high road, but facing the sea,and could probably be discerned at a great distance. She hurried indoorsand informed Mrs. Morrison, who at once visited the Observatory, andfound there a lighted bicycle lamp, which had been placed on the windowsill.
So sinister an incident was a matter for immediate enquiry. ThePrincipal was horror-stricken. Girls, teachers, and servants werequestioned, but nobody admitted anything. The lamp, indeed, proved to beone which Miss Duckworth had missed from her bicycle several daysbefore. It was known that she had been lamenting its loss. Whether thelight had been put as a signal or as a practical joke it was impossibleto say, but if it had been noticed by a special constable it would haveplaced Brackenfield in danger of an exceedingly heavy fine.
Everybody was extremely indignant. It was felt that such an unpleasantepisode cast a reflection upon the school. It was naturally the onesubject of conversation.
"Have we a spy in our midst?" asked Winifrede Mason darkly. "If itreally was a practical joke, then whoever did it needs hounding out ofthe place."
"She'll meet with scant mercy when she's found!" agreed Meg Hutchinson.
Marjorie said nothing at
all. Her brain was in a whirl. The events ofthe afternoon rose up like a spectre and haunted her. She felt sheneeded a confidante. At the earliest possible moment she sought Chrissiealone, and told her how she had run up into the Observatory and seenMiss Norton there.
"Do you think it's possible Norty could have lighted that lamp?" sheasked.
Chrissie whistled.
"It looks rather black against her certainly. What was she doing up inthe Observatory?"
"She put something inside a box."
"Did you see what it was?"
"No."
"It might have been a bicycle lamp?"
"It might have been anything as far as I can tell."
"Did she strike a match as if lighting a lamp?"
"No, but of course she might have put the lamp inside the box and thencome up at dusk to light it."
Chrissie shook her head and whistled again softly. She appeared to bethinking.
"Ought I to tell the Empress?" ventured Marjorie.
"Not unless you want to get yourself into the very biggest row you'veever had in your life!"
"Why?"
"Why? Don't you see, you silly child, that Norty would deny everythingand throw all the blame upon you? Naturally the Empress would ask: 'Whatwere you doing in the Observatory?' Even if she didn't suspect you ofputting the light there yourself--which it is quite possible shemight--she'd punish you for breaking bounds; and when you've only justbeen in trouble already----"
"It's not to be thought of," interrupted Marjorie quickly. "You're quiteright, Chrissie. The Empress would be sure to side with Norty and blameme. I'd thought of going and telling her, and I even walked as far asthe study door, but I was too frightened to knock. I'm glad I asked youabout it first."
"Of course the whole business may be a rag. It's the kind of wild thingsome of those silly Juniors would do."
"It may; but, on the other hand, the light may have been a signal. Itseems very mysterious."
"Don't tell anybody else what you've told me."
"Rather not. It's a secret to be kept even from the S.S.O.P. I shan'tbreathe a word to a single soul."