King of Ranleigh: A School Story

  CHAPTER XII

  ROUNDING UP THE BURGLARS

  The predicament in which Bert and his friends found themselves afteroverhearing the discussion between the four men in the chapel of thetower was by no means lessened by an event which happened within fiveminutes of the return of Clive and Bert. They were grouped round thewindow through which they had gained entrance, debating the question.Bert, in the manner he favoured when addressing the members of thataugust assembly known as the Ranleigh School Debating Society, stoodwith his hands beneath his coat, firmly clenched at his back. He leanedslightly forward, wagged his head impressively when he wished to make apoint, and silenced interruption with a keen and sometimes threateningglance.

  "There you are," he was saying, as if summing up the whole position.

  "We arrive here after a bit of a climb."

  "Yes, we all know that," interjected Hugh impatiently. "If we hadn'tarrived here, why--well, we shouldn't be here, should we?"

  "Don't talk rot," came the rejoinder. "We arrive here after a climb; wediscover four blackguards----"

  "One moment," said Clive, gently enough, for he was positively fearfulnow of incurring the censure of the great Bert. "You must admit thatthey don't exactly appear to be blackguards. One, for instance----"

  Bert tossed his head impatiently. He freed one hand from behind hisback, and still leaving the other in its old position, holding hiscoat-tails in air, lifted the first, protruded a forefinger and held itout in a manner half appealing and certainly a little threatening.

  "Do let's get on," he growled. "Who's such an ass not to know thatmodern burglars are often swells?"

  "Agreed," cried Hugh, while Clive nodded.

  "All the swell mobsmen of to-day cut a dash. Probably they've been tothe best of schools, and if only you knew it, you rub shoulders withthem when you go to dances and dinners and the theatre."

  Bert was really terrific. Hugh blushed to think of his boldness. As ifhe and his brother were in the habit of going to dances, of beinginvited to dinners, and of accompanying friends to the theatre. Catchthem being bored with one or the other! Why, Bert had only said on theprevious day that dances were a nuisance. That he preferred cricket.That dinners didn't interest him, for people talked such rot. Besides, achap couldn't get half enough to eat. As to theatres, well, there he hadwaxed quite indignant. Theatres indeed! Drivel! That had been his actualexpression. And here he was holding forth! Hugh opened his mouth toprotest.

  "I say! Draw it mild. How can chaps rub shoulders with burglars atdances, dinners, and theatres if they never go, or hardly ever?"

  Bert fixed him with a piercing glance. "Ass!" he hissed. "Who's meaningus? You means Dick and Tom and Harry. I wouldn't be bored with suchthings. But other folks are, and they rub shoulders with fine fellows,handsome chaps able to debate any question, and in the King's bestEnglish too, who are common robbers all the same. But you wouldn't besupposed to know all that, Hugh. You're too young."

  There was pity in his tones. Hugh crumpled up instantly. His indignationa few hours ago would have been surprising. He might even have launchedhimself at Bert, for sometimes their breezes led to violence. But now?He wished the ground would open and swallow him. Bert's scorn and pitymade him positively miserable.

  "Sorry!" he managed to murmur.

  "Oh, you can't help that, no more can Clive. You're both of you kids,and it's kindest to tell you. But do let us get ahead. We've discoveredfour blackguards down below, and we know the police are after them. Wehave heard of frequent burglaries in these parts of late, and we haveoverheard these fellows boasting of how they have put the police off thetrack. Now they're contemplating another. We've got to act, and----"

  It was just at this precise moment that the event occurred which addedto their difficulties, and, in fact, threw them into a condition ofgreat excitement. A low, reverberating crash came bursting through thedoorway of the room and reached their ears sharply. They looked at oneanother in dismay.

  "A revolver shot," said Bert hoarsely.

  "Perhaps they've had a row," suggested Clive after a minute's silence."Perhaps they were dividing the stuff taken on former occasions andcouldn't agree. There's another."

  Five shots rang out in swift succession, and there was a half-smotheredshout. Hugh looked doubtfully out of the window. He wondered if Bertwould recommend a precipitate retirement, and sincerely hoped he would.Clive, too, followed the direction of his glance, and felt somewhatfaint-hearted. But Bert rose to the occasion, just as he had donebefore.

  "You stay here. I'll go and see what's happening," he said.

  "I'll come too," cried Clive eagerly, while Hugh showed a decidedinclination to follow. But their friend checked the impulse with a waveof his hand.

  "Stay here," he said. "If there's shooting, better have only one hurt.If I don't get back within five minutes you'll know that something'shappened. Then bolt for it. Hunt up the police, tell 'em the whole tale,and bring 'em along with you. Of course, they'd better come armed.Rather! Listen to that. There's more shooting. They must be hidingbehind the pillars and potting at one another. Now, do as you're told.Just hop if I'm not back in five minutes."

  He went off without another glance at them, and we must record theimpression his courage created. Clive and Hugh were positivelyastounded.

  "Never knew him like this before. What's happened to him?" asked theformer.

  Hugh shook his head dolefully. The whole thing was astounding andsomewhat painful. Even in the midst of such excitement the thought wasuppermost in his mind that Bert had shone brightly in this adventure,while he, Hugh, who as a rule thrust himself to the front as if herecognised his own superiority, was acting like a baby, and wouldwillingly have bolted a moment ago if it hadn't been for his brother'sexample.

  "I'm jiggered!" was all that he could exclaim, somewhat mournfully.

  Afterwards they stood by the window listening eagerly, every littlesound causing them to stir and start. And when the shots were repeated,which was every few moments, they positively jumped.

  How slowly those fatal minutes passed too. Clive dragged a batteredWaterbury from his waistcoat pocket, shook it violently to make surethat it was running, for, in spite of its general excellence, this samewatch had of late struck work on occasion. What else could you expect?The ingenious Clive and Hugh had imagined that they had a startlingimprovement to add to the watch. It had surprised them that nowatchmaker had ever hit upon such a simple invention. The thing was, infact, brilliant and childishly simple, so much so that they burned toput it into practice. That meant that the cheap but reliable Waterburypossessed by Clive had promptly been laid on the operating table. Itsvitals had been exposed. Its springs had been stirred with a cannyinstrument of Clive's own making, and then, the greatest triumph ofall, the simple and brilliant improvement had been added.

  "Simply ripping!" was Hugh's enthusiastic comment, as he watched hisfriend's dexterous fingers. "It'll go like a bird after this. You'llmake a pot of money by selling the invention."

  Alas! The stupid watch resented this unasked-for interference. There wassomething wrong with the invention added. Perhaps it didn't fit. Perhapsthe vitals of the Waterbury had been slightly injured. Whatever thecause, the watch refused to go regularly after that experiment, eventhough Clive reluctantly withdrew his brilliant addition from theinterior. It had a habit of stopping. Then it would plunge ahead withoutrhyme or reason. But it was going now.

  "He left us two minutes twenty seconds ago," he said hoarsely.

  "And gave us the limit of five. My eye! Ain't they shooting! It must bea regular battle."

  The shots came frequently still to their ears, sharp and very distinct,while occasionally there was a shout. Hugh looked out of the window,wondering whether anyone passing on the road would hear the noise andcome in their direction.

  "We'd wave then," he told Clive.

  "What?" asked that latter, giving his Waterbury a bang on the stoneedge of the window. "Beastly thing's trying to stop. It ga
ve a sort ofwhir. You know. You've heard it."

  "I was wondering if anyone on the road would hear and come along. We'dwave," repeated Hugh.

  "Of course. Any juggins would do that. But they won't hear. The soundbreaks up in the building. You wouldn't hear it if you were down belowin that old garden. How's time? I do wish Bert'd come back. Supposing hedon't? What then?"

  "We run for it."

  "And leave him?"

  "Those were his or--er, his wishes," said Hugh hurriedly.

  "Oh! Then I suppose we must, though I don't like leaving him. But it'sbetter than all being murdered. George! It's four minutes five secondssince he left us."

  They counted the remaining seconds anxiously. They were breathless whenthe full five minutes had gone. Clive tucked the Waterbury sadly backinto his pocket and looked enquiringly at his friend.

  "Give him five minutes' grace," he said.

  Hugh nodded. He noticed that the firing had become almost furious. Thenthere was a loud and startled shout, when it ceased all of a sudden.

  There was blank despair on their faces now. What better evidence couldthey have of Bert's downfall?

  "Those brutes have bagged him," groaned Hugh. "If--if only we hadrevolvers."

  "I'm awfully sorry," said Clive lamely, for Hugh looked as if he wouldburst into tears.

  "Awfully near blubbing," Clive told himself. And then, as if he feltthat the responsibility of the situation had fallen on his ownshoulders, he clutched Hugh by the arm and thrust him towards thewindow.

  "Let's go," he said. "No use giving him longer grace. Let's get off tothe police. We can then show them the way back and help in the capture."

  Sadly and desperately did the two clamber down the ivy to the groundbeneath. They sneaked away from the tower as if they were afraid thatshots might follow them. Then they plunged into the copse in which theirbicycles lay, and having found the latter, mounted their own andsprinted off to the village as fast as the wheels and their feet wouldallow. Two breathless lads at length threw themselves from theirmachines at the gate of the cottage which did duty as a police depot.

  "What's amiss?" asked the police sergeant, coming to the door in hisshirt sleeves to answer their loud and peremptory summons. "What!Mister Clive and Mister Hugh! You ain't been diggin' more pits fer Mr.Rawlings, have you?"

  There was a stupid grin on his face. His insolence made the boys' bloodboil. Were they never to hear the last of that business?

  "I'm fairly sick of hearing of it," Hugh had grumbled on the previousday, for as is the case in the country, the tale had flown swiftly. Slyglances of amusement were cast after the retreating figure of Mr.Rawlings. That pompous individual now was far less patronising than onformer occasions. He even nodded, instead of treating those who greetedhim politely, as is the pleasant fashion in the country, to a lordlylifting of his stick. Mrs. Darrell's gardener chuckled perhaps half adozen times a day when he thought of the occurrence.

  "Of all the imps, them's they," he had often asserted down at the publicwhich he frequented. "And mind you, I ain't so sure as some of theirelders and their betters too, as you'd think, ain't mightily pleased atwhat happened. Bless you! The parson, he sent his boys away to school atonce. Mister Hugh, he tells me that he and Mr. Bert come in fer alickin'. But that don't prevent parson from bein' amused, do it? Thatdon't prevent him thinking that it sarved Mr. Rawlings right. It's justthis. You think of a man as you find him, and parson don't think much ofhim up at the Hall, if I'm a good un at guessing."

  Whether the old fellow was a good un or not, the fact remained that thestory was known far and wide, and the boyish escapade of our heroescondoned, if not actually approved of. Still, it was galling, to say theleast, to call upon a police sergeant and to have the fellow casting thesame old tale at them.

  Clive lifted his head pompously. It was a way his father had had when inpossession of the property, though he was an easy enough man to get onwith. The sergeant recognised the movement. He remembered a reprimand hehimself had received from Clive's father. Suddenly he lost his grin andbecame stern and attentive.

  "Beggin' pardon," he said, "but what's happened? A fire? Or is itsomeone that's got killed? Or is it poachers?"

  "Poachers?" asked Hugh in astonishment.

  "Poachers, to be sure. Haven't I been worrited almost off my head oflate with tales of 'em, and information that they was working? There'sthat farmer Stiggins. He comes ridin' in two weeks ago and says asthere's going to be a raid by poachers up at Squire Green's covers wayover by Pendleton Bottom. I gets on my bicycle, calls for Irwin, theconstable, along by the cross roads, and we goes and hides with thekeepers. But no poachers come along. Young gents, there was a burglarythat night over in the opposite direction. There was three of 'em at it,we reckoned, and they got clear away with five diamond rings, silverforks and knives by the bushel, a box o' cigars, a bottle o' brandy anda self-filling pen. You ain't come to tell me of more poachers?"

  Clive had recovered his breath by then. He was so impatient to tell histale that he could positively have struck the sergeant.

  "Poachers! Bother poachers!" he cried, though his eyes went to Hugh'swith a significance there was no denying. Here, indeed, wascorroboration of the story he had heard, and more proof, if any wereneeded, of the importance of their discovery. "We've come aboutburglars, your burglars," he cried. "Three of them, and a fourth whokeeps watch when they're away and sends tales of poachers to the police.I heard them telling the story. They've been fooling you nicely, butwe've got 'em now, sergeant."

  It was the officer's turn to gasp. He pushed his untidy hair far backfrom his forehead, and stared hard at the boys.

  "Just tell the tale straight through," he said eagerly. "You've baggedthree burglars, you two has done that--never!"

  "Ass! Who said we'd bagged them?" shouted Hugh angrily. "We've found outwhere they're hiding. We listened to their talk, and we know that theyintend to make another attempt at burglary this very evening. Theystarted shooting----"

  "Ah!" The sergeant started and flushed. "Then they're armed?" he asked,with some show of anxiety.

  "Rather! Huge revolvers. They started a row. Bert--you know mybrother--well, he was awfully plucky. He went off to see what the rowwas about, and they shot him."

  His lip trembled. Hugh had been too fully engaged up till now to realisethe seriousness of his probable loss. But the mention of it to thesergeant unnerved and unmanned him for the moment. A second later he waswatching the sergeant closely. The latter dived into the narrow openingof his cottage, reached for his coat and helmet and donned them swiftly,as much as to say that the very action made him into a real sergeant andshowed that he was ready to do his duty. Then he produced a note-book,drew out a pencil and bit the lead. Having opened the book, he thenlooked at a watch as ponderous as Clive's Waterbury and noted the timedown in his book with a business-like air which was most impressive. Afew scribbled lines were hurriedly added.

  "'At two fifty-two I was called by Mister Darrell and Mister HughSeymour,'" he read. "'They was on bicycles.'"

  "Wrong," interrupted the latter. "We'd dismounted."

  "But you come on bicycles," the sergeant reproved him severely. "'Frominformation then received I learned that the said young gentlemen haddiscovered four burglars, the same as did a robbery two weeks ago, andthe same most likely as has done others in these parts. From informationreceived----'"

  "You've said that once," said Clive impatiently.

  "And I'll have to say it again. It's the law," declared the officersternly. "It's the law, sir. 'Well, from information received, I learnedthat the said burglars were armed, and that Mister Bert Seymour had beenshot.' Now, where's the place?"

  "The old tower that's haunted."

  "Ha! I suspected it. I've seed lights there of nights of late. Peoplesays it's haunted; but I'd made up my mind to see what them lightsmeant. It's lucky you went there first. I'd have been there to-night,perhaps, young gents. So it's at the tower? And there's four of theruffian
s? That means that help's required. You young gentlemen comealong with me at once. There's no time to be lost. I'll pick up theconstable, and then get along to the Rector and Mr. Newdigate. They'remagistrates."

  Once more the officer dived into his cottage, to appear again armed witha bludgeon and wheeling his bicycle. In a trice they were all threemounted and racing away towards the cross roads, where the constable hadhis quarters. By the time the Rectory was reached their excitement had,if anything, increased, the more so since a dozen or more of theneighbours had joined them. Stevens, the village butcher, followed inhis cart, a hay-fork gripped in one hand so as to be ready. There were acouple of young farm labourers, the local sweep, a big lusty fellow whomight be expected to tackle at least two of the burglars. Ahead went theRector, mounted on his tricycle, and very soon the second of themagistrates had joined him riding in his car, to which the Rectortransferred his person, loaning his own machine to Tom, a youth employedabout the village. By the time the cavalcade came in sight of MertonTower there were at least twenty followers, while the brace of shot-gunsresting in the back of the leading car showed that the band were bent onbusiness, and were determined to meet violence with violence.

  "If they shoots, why, of course, I shoot," the sergeant told Hughhoarsely as they came nearer to the tower. "I don't like bloodshed--notme! But when there's desperate criminals to be dealt with, why, they hasto have what they deserves. Where did you say you left the road to getat the tower?"

  The two who had given the alarm, and had helped to discover theburglars, promptly pointed out the spot, and dismounted opposite the gapthrough which they had passed with their machines. The car was broughtto a standstill instantly, and a boy who had attached himself to thegang a little time before was left in charge. Then, headed by Clive andHugh, with the sergeant and the constable immediately behind them, andfollowed by the Rector and his fellow magistrate, the whole party thrusttheir way quietly through the cover of the wood which led to the base ofthe tower. Very soon they were halted at the edge of the copse, with themassive door within sight of them.

  "That's where we got in," whispered Clive, pointing to the window above,and to the ivy growing thickly up to it.

  "You clambered up by the ivy!" gasped the Rector, turning pale. "Whatrecklessness! But we can't do that. Are the doors bolted?"

  "Fast," said Hugh. "But there's a postern in one, which is padlocked."

  "Then we'll soon make short work o' that," declared the sergeant,suddenly taking the lead. "Now, gentlemen, we've got to takeprecautions, or else we'll have these gaolbirds escaping. Constable, youjust slip round to the far side, taking a few of these lads with you,and watch to see that no one breaks away. Take one of the guns, andshoot if one of the four we're after lifts a weapon or refuses tosurrender."

  There was determination written on the face of the officer. Some of thegaping rustics around turned pale beneath their tan. The Rector raisedone hand as if to protest, and then, realising the situation, refrainedfrom speaking.

  "Now," went on the officer, "I take the other gun. Bill Watson, you'vebrought along that bar I asked for?"

  A burly fellow with a smith's apron around his middle came forward. "I'mready," he said. "If there's a padlock, it won't stand much from thisthing. But supposing they shoot?"

  "I'll be there beside you," said the sergeant at once. "Don't you fear.If there's going to be hanky-panky, I'll be first with it."

  By now the constable had gone off to the far side of the tower, takingsome of the gang with him. All was in readiness for the attack upon thestronghold of the burglars. The sergeant looked about him to make surethat every avenue of escape was closed, and then led the way forwardfrom cover. The smith went with him, the Rector and his fellowmagistrate followed, while the rustics came in rear, some rathertimorously, some impelled merely by overweening curiosity, othersbecause of their natural courage.

  "Now, Bill Watson, do your duty," commanded the sergeant, when they hadreached the doors. "In the name of the King, break open that lock."

  Bill made short work of the matter. His bar was thrust at once into thehasp of the lock. He put his weight into the business. There was a dullsnap, and at once the padlock fell from the door. Promptly the sergeantpushed it open and made ready to enter.

  "Gentlemen," he said, turning to those who stood about him, "in theexecution of my duty I am bound to enter. I can ask, but cannot demandyour help."

  Hugh almost cheered him. The fellow was so cool, and so dignified. Onesaw that he was ready if need be to enter alone, and brave the veryworst. But that, of course, was out of the question. Hugh pressedforward and Clive with him. The Rector lifted his hat and stepped up tothe door, and then one by one they entered. It was dark within, but amatch which the officer struck showed that the way was clear. Guided byClive, he went in the direction of the chapel. They crossed the floor ofa huge room, passed through a wide passage, and then came to a doorway.Ah! the space beyond was flooded with light. It was clear that here theroof had fallen.

  "The chapel," whispered Clive.

  "And the burglars," said Hugh, beneath his breath, pointing to fourfigures in the distance.

  "Forward!" ordered the sergeant sternly. "Rush 'em!"

  "'FORWARD!' ORDERED THE SERGEANT STERNLY. 'RUSH 'EM!'"]

  They started out into the chapel at a run. With a shout of triumph theythrew themselves upon the four men within, bowled them over before theyhad recovered from their astonishment or could use their weapons, andsoon had them tethered in the corners. It was exciting work while itlasted. Clive and Hugh tackled Peter, and were almost killed by thefrantic struggles of that burly ruffian. It took them quite threeminutes to recover their breath. Then they went to one of the corners,where poor Bert lay huddled on the same iron bedstead which he and Clivehad noticed.

  "Merely stunned, not otherwise hurt," said the Rector, who was bendingover him. "It seems that he must have fallen from the floor above. Iwill cross-question those ruffians."

  The three fellows whom Bert and his friends had decided must be swellmobsmen stood at the far end of the chapel surrounded by a crowd ofexultant rustics, and now with hands firmly bound. A great noise camefrom their direction, and going towards them Clive heard first one andthen another of the dishevelled rascals expostulating.

  "What's the meaning of this violence and of this extraordinary assault?"the man whom Clive knew as Joe was demanding. "Answer at once, sergeant.Why are peaceful people thus attacked and set upon by ruffians with anofficer of the law to lead them?"

  That officer might have been a mile away. He stood, note-book and pencilin hand, and once more took the time by his watch.

  "I have to warn you that anything you say will be used in evidenceagainst you," he said coolly, having noted the time.

  "Humbug! Evidence indeed! You'll require that, my man," came the heatedanswer.

  "I charge you with being notorious burglars, with lying here ready tocommit another offence. My witnesses, who overheard you discussing yourplans, are Mister Clive Darrell and Mister Hugh Seymour."

  Very pompously did the sergeant give the information. The man calledJoe looked as if he would explode, so great was his indignation. Butthough the mention of our two young friends' names may have meantnothing to him, they seemed to attract the attention of another of thethree who stood in the background till that moment almost unobserved. Hestarted forward, looked closely at Clive and Hugh, and then, to theamazement of his comrades and all present, broke into a fit ofuncontrollable laughter. He almost grovelled in his ecstasy. The Rectorwas really alarmed for the man's reason, while Bill Watson, the smith,stepped farther away and raised his iron bar in readiness forself-protection. It was Joe and the sergeant who first noticed thecurious change which had come over Clive and his young friend. They werebacking away. They looked horribly frightened. Clive had gone a fieryred, while Hugh was almost purple. They looked, in fact, as if they hadseen the ghost said to haunt this ancient tower, and as if the sight hadscared them out of their wits
.

  "I--I think we'd better be going," Clive managed to blurt out at last.

  "Er--yes," agreed Hugh huskily.

  "One moment, young gents," said the sergeant. "Why, if that chap ain'tstill laughin'. See here, my man, you just cut it short, or----"

  He was interrupted by another gust. The burglar immediately in front ofthe one so vastly amused joined him in his merriment. Then Joe saw thefun, wherever it existed, and presently there were all three shakingwith mirth, while their captors looked on sternly. And then the one whohad set the fashion stepped to the front, torn and dishevelled after hisencounter. Clive and Hugh backed away, and would have bolted, but at aglance from him stood rooted to the spot.

  "Sergeant," said the man, "I'm Mr. Canning, a master at Ranleigh School.Ask those boys if they recognise me."

  No need to ask. The faces of our two young friends supplied the answer.It was actually and decidedly Mr. Canning, the "Peach," as many calledhim, because of his blooming cheeks, the master so fond of giving"impots." Clive groaned aloud as he looked at him. Hugh wished theremaining roof of the chapel might fall in and bury him yards deep.

  "Oh!" exclaimed the sergeant, looking glum of a sudden.

  "And these are my friends. Mr. Oxon here, whom we call Joe, is the ownerof Merton Tower. To proceed, there is a legend of buried treasure. Hehas lately come upon a clue hidden away in an ancient family manuscript.What more natural than that he should invite his friends to help himsearch for the missing valuables? What more natural than that thestrictest secrecy should be employed? That these boys have discovered usis unfortunate. The fact that we have been taken for burglars is readilyunderstood. It is a most excusable and humorous mistake. Allow me toassure you that we are the most harmless of individuals. As to the boywho fell into the chapel, he is merely stunned. We have been wonderinghow he managed to get into the tower. I suppose I should have recognisedhim. I didn't. As to the shots, we were merely amusing ourselves with asix-shooter. There. You have a full explanation."

  Oh, the misery of it all! The stern looks of the Rector, the grins ofthe rustics, the smothered anger of the sergeant and constable. Neverwere Clive and Bert and Hugh more miserable than on the days whichfollowed. People laughed aloud whenever they met them. At church halfthe congregation stared them out of face. While the thought that Mr.Canning had been one of their captures made all three turn almost yellowat the thought of the coming term at Ranleigh and the consequences oftheir late adventure. The worst of all undoubtedly was the fact thatMasters managed to get wind of the business.

  "How's burglars?" he asked, ungrammatically, immediately on encounteringhis old friends on their return to Ranleigh.

  There was strife for the ten minutes which followed.