King of Ranleigh: A School Story
CHAPTER XVII
WHO IS THE SCOUNDREL?
It was a saint's day, and Ranleigh made holiday once Chapel was ended.Outside in the playing-fields the shouts and laughter of the boys couldbe heard distinctly from the Sixth Form room. Occasionally there was aclatter in the tiled corridors over which the feet of so manyRanleighans had passed in the years gone by. Otherwise there was peaceand quietness in the school and the time was propitious for discussion.And in the Upper Sixth Form room voices subdued and smooth exchanged theviews of various of the prefects. Trendall was there, watching Clive andSusanne with a friendly smile of approval. How different from theglances which he had once cast at them! Bert, cool and dreaming as ofyore, apt to indulge on every opportunity in satire, sat upon the cornerof the table staring thoughtfully into the fire. Masters stood proppedin one corner, nibbling the end of a pencil and glancing first at one ofhis friends and then at another. By common consent Clive had been votedto the chair.
"We've got to do something, and at once," he said, commencing theproceedings as soon as he had occupied the only chair in the room. "Itis up to us to act."
"Hear, hear!" from Masters. He stopped nibbling for a moment. "Hear,hear!" he repeated, and then went rather pink seeing the eyes of all onhim.
"And at once," asserted Clive again.
"Without delay, certainly," agreed Bert crisply.
"That is, once we've come to a decision what shall be done. No useacting without a plan," said the wise Susanne, an opinion which Trendallapplauded.
"Then, it being agreed that something must be done, and at once, we cometo the crux of the situation."
Clive looked at each in turn invitingly. "We want ideas," he went on."We've reached a crisis here. Has any fellow any plan to put before us?"
There was silence. Masters took to nibbling his pencil violently. It wasobvious that he was very much disturbed in his mind. Susanne kicked theworn floor boards impatiently, while Trendall and Bert seemed to haveall their attention centred on the fire. But no one accepted Clive'sinvitation to speak. To tell the truth, no one had so much as an idea.The situation with which Ranleigh was face to face was unique.
"I'll recapitulate events," said Clive, for he was wont in these days touse some terribly long words. The slang so common to his speech inbygone days was now almost forgotten. Indeed, the manners and the ideasof the Old Firm had changed wonderfully and very much for the better.
"There was a fire two weeks ago."
"Hear, hear!" cried Masters, whereat everyone glared at him.
"Glad?" asked Bert, with cutting sharpness. "Perhaps you'd have liked tosee us all consumed!"
It was Masters' turn to become scathing.
"A fine thing to suggest," he cried. "You'll say I made the fire," heretorted. "Go on, Clive. Bert's out of sorts this morning. There was afire. Right. Hear, hear! Let's get along with it. I've a right to sayhear, hear! Didn't the fire give us a chance of seeing what Clive's madeof, and the sort of chaps we have at Ranleigh?"
He wore an air of triumph. The others present at this meeting applaudedloudly.
"It was fine," said Trendall, his eyes sparkling. "The Ranleighan'llhave a fine tale to tell. Though I'm one of the prefects I'm bound toadmit Ranleigh did well. The Head said so; so did the 'Surrey Liar.'"
It was the name given to a certain county paper which had come out witha fine description of the fire at Ranleigh, and had eulogised thebehaviour of the boys. However, this was not getting along with thediscussion, and Clive therefore took the matter up again.
"There was a fire; we checked it. It was put out," he said. "Of course,there was an investigation, as a result of which we discovered thatparaffin had been thrown about in the big cupboard under the stairs.There were some unconsumed shavings there, as well as a tin which hadonce held paraffin. That tin came from the boot-room where the beakieswork."
"Proving that one of the beakies was responsible for the business,"cried Trendall.
"Not at all. The boot-room's open always. You or I could easily enter.Still, it doesn't say that a beaky did not start the fire. This isclear, however, that fire was maliciously set going by someone, and thatsomeone belongs to Ranleigh."
"Either as boy or servant," said Susanne. "Of course, we rule mastersout. Such a thing is impossible with any one of them."
"And boys too," suggested Bert. "Whoever heard of a fellow wanting tomake a blaze of his school? It's preposterous! So we come to theconclusion that the miscreant is a worker here. In fact, one of themany servants."
There were enquiring glances between the debaters. In the end all turnedto stare at their chairman. But Clive's young face was inscrutable. Heneither supported nor opposed the statement for which Bert wasresponsible.
"What's the use of trying to narrow our suspicions down to a singlegroup?" he asked. "On the face of it, I admit that a servant may verywell have been responsible for that fire. But then, it might have beenanyone. There was a fire. That's good enough for us, and we know that itwas purposely set going. We know also that there have been others, andthat in every case there is clear evidence that an incendiary was atwork. Well, there's the position. You chaps have got to tackle it."
There was, in fact, no need to add to his description. Somewhere aboutRanleigh there existed an incendiary. Who was he? Boy, master, orservant?
"Or lunatic," suddenly asked Susanne, as if he imagined that others werefollowing his train of thought. "That's it. Is the fellow who's doingthis caddish business merely a lunatic, and so irresponsible?"
"Mighty likely," agreed Masters, coming closer and looking very earnest."But what if he is? Where's the difference? There's an incendiary allthe same, and wondering whether he's boy, master, or servant, and in anycase sane or mad, helps us not an atom. Let's stop jawing about thingsthat don't help and get to real business. I'm for watching."
"Watching what?" asked Bert sharply.
"The school, of course. Parading the corridors."
"When? At night?" asked Trendall at once.
"When have the fires broken out? Always at night time. Always betweenthe hours of eleven and one a.m. Then that's the time for watching."
"And you suggest that the prefects do this watching?" asked Clive. "Thescheme is one that promises finely. As you say, every fire has occurredin the hours you mention. If the place had been patrolled, then thefellow responsible would have been discovered. So you suggest that theprefects take it turn and turn about to watch? Isn't that it, Masters?"
"Not a bit. I'll ask a question. Has any fellow here any doubt about theothers in this room? No? I can see you haven't. You needn't stare at meas if I'd accused you, Bert. I merely asked a straight question. Wellthen."
"Yes, well then," repeated Susanne encouragingly.
"Can any fellow here say that he's absolutely sure that the culpritisn't to be found somewhere amongst the prefects?"
They shook their heads slowly at him.
"Masters is talking sense," asserted Bert, after a few seconds' silence;whereat the great Masters flushed a beautiful red. It wasn't often thatBert praised. And if he did, there was often enough a sharp stingunderneath his compliment. "He's talking sense," repeated Bert, "foronce in his life. I'm glad."
"Ah!" gasped Masters. He would gladly have set upon Bert at thatinstant. But then, everyone knew that Bert was always quizzing. He wasgrinning even then. Why on earth couldn't he be serious sometimes andforget his quizzing and his satire?
"A fellow can't get along when he's interrupted by an idiot," growledMasters. "Where was I? Oh, I remember. Well, you can't swear that thislunatic isn't to be found amongst the prefects. All the same, I'm opento stand treat to everyone here if a Ranleigh prefect proves to be thefellow. Ranleigh prefects ain't that sort."
He puffed his chest out and flushed red as he spoke. Masters took atremendous pride in his school and his fellows. "There's not one who'dbe such a cad," he declared. "Don't you deny it, Bert."
"Certainly not. I'm in agreement. I'm only smiling at
my thoughts. I wasjust remembering the time when Masters wasn't a prefect. A bigger set ofcads and bullys then didn't exist, er--according to Masters. Of course,I agree with what he says now. Ranleigh prefects are fine fellows. Ain'twe amongst the numbers?"
There was a general tapping of feet on the floor. The men present weregetting impatient, and really it wasn't the time for wit. They glared atBert.
"Shut up!" commanded Susanne. "Let Masters get along. Well?"
"Well, there you are," said that worthy. "You ain't certain of all theprefects. But you are of the lot here. Supposing we decide to watch.Here are the watchers. We keep the thing to ourselves. Not a word to theothers."
"And watch all night. A tough proposition," reflected Trendall. "Thereare five of us."
"Call it six," said Bert. "There's Hugh. He's not much good; but he'lldo."
"Then six," Clive told them. "Two every night. That means one night'spatrolling in three. A fellow could manage that easily, and we canalways put in a sleep during the day. Then I suggest that we divideourselves into three parties, each consisting of two. Those two willeach take half the school premises, and will meet on their rounds everyfew minutes. It'll help to keep 'em awake."
"Awake! As if a fellow would care to sleep and so fail in his job,"cried Masters indignantly.
"You wait," said Bert. "A chap gets awfully drowsy about midnight,particularly if there's nothing doing. The suggestion Clive has made isgood. Get along, Mr. Chairman."
"Then we divide into twos and patrol, each man meeting his fellow everyfew minutes. Of course, we shall want rubber shoes and a dark lanternapiece."
"And a revolver?" asked Trendall eagerly.
"No. Nothing. If a Ranleigh chap can't use his fists if there'soccasion, why----"
"Better chuck the business now," said Susanne. "Clive's right. No weaponis wanted. Once we catch sight of this chap we shall know how to dealwith him. So mum's the word. Not a whisper to the other fellows."
"Tell no one, not even the Head," cried Bert. "Secrecy is of thegreatest importance. I suppose we start to-night?"
"At once," agreed Clive. "Let's put the six names on strips of paper anddraw them from a cap. That'll give us our couples. We can toss to decidewho's to take the first patrol."
They carried out this suggestion promptly, and within a little whilehad the matter settled.
"Susanne and Hugh together," said Clive, reading out the result. "ThenTrendall and Bert. Masters and I go together also. Now for first turn.Up with your pennies."
It happened that Bert and Trendall were to be the first to patrol, andit may be imagined that there was a considerable amount of suppressedexcitement about those two worthies, as also amongst their companions inthe adventure, as the evening approached. But the Old Firm had had anexcellent training in smothering their feelings. To look at them thatevening as they took prep. in their several form rooms you would havethought that they had no such thing as a secret. In Chapel Bert's facewas serene as he went to the lectern to read the lesson. And how well heread! Sitting back in his place amidst the men of the choir, Clive couldnot help but admire. His memory carried him back to that day now itseemed so long ago when he himself, then small and puny, had for thefirst time entered this handsome building. He recollected how he hadwatched Harvey ascend to the lectern, with what awe he had regarded him,and how he had trembled at the thought that some day he might be calledupon to carry out the same duty. And here he was, destined to read thesecond lesson of the evening, cool and calm, nevertheless, admiring, asadmire he must, the smooth, even reading of his old friend Bert.
Then they trooped out to the dormitories. There was the customary tenminutes' silence, and then the hum of many tongues wagging. Butgradually the sounds died down, till there came the heavy-footed thud ofthe beaky. Out went the lights. From many a bed came the snores ofsleepers. Clive lay with wide-open eyes listening and thinking. Hewondered what Trendall and Bert were doing, for it must be rememberedthat the rise of the Old Firm in the school had resulted in a partialseverance. As prefects they were divided, Clive ruling it in One South,his old dormitory.
Ah! he heard someone stirring! A door opened. It was not in One South.Where was it?
"Old B. coming to bed," Clive told himself. "Then it's about eleven.Those two will be slipping downstairs in a few minutes."
Yes, it was nearly eleven. The big clock began to chime the quarters asthe door of One South was noiselessly pushed open. Clive lifted his headand looked in that direction. The well-known and popular figure of Mr.Branson entered the dormitory. On tip-toe, for he was ever thoughtful,bearing a lighted candle in one hand, he gently closed the door andslid across to his own room opposite. And in the years that he had beenat Ranleigh, how many boys had seen him going to bed? Not many, we trow.Not because of the late hour, for Old B. did not hold with them. Butsimply for the reason that boys sleep well, while Old B.'s steps were ofthe lightest, in spite of his burly figure. The door closed after him,the last stroke of eleven sounded. Silence fell upon Ranleigh school andits surroundings. And then Clive's eyelids drooped. Like the otherfellows in the dormitory, he fell asleep and forgot for the moment allabout the task which he and his friends had set themselves.
"Well? What happened? See anyone? Hear anything?"
The questions were rained upon Trendall and Bert as soon as the Old Firmwere gathered on the following morning.
"Not a soul. But Clive was right about a fellow getting drowsy," saidTrendall at once. "If it hadn't been for the movement and the need tomeet Bert I'd have dropped off on many an occasion. I met him fiveminutes after the hour of eleven had struck. We went off to bed at twoo'clock precisely."
"Then Bert? Well?" asked Clive of that young fellow. Bert grinned.Evidently he had contrived to gather some fun out of the adventure.
"Jolly nearly made an awful ass of myself," he grinned.
"Where's the difficulty?" asked Masters, with unaccustomed satire."Ain't it pretty usual?"
"Shut up!" cried Clive. "You chaps are always sparring. Now, Bert."
"Masters would have landed us finely in the soup if he'd been there,"continued the one addressed. "You see--well, is it necessary to explainwhy he'd have done the usual? No. Well, then, I started with Trendall,and just ten minutes after twelve heard someone moving."
"Ah! Go on," gasped his listeners.
"Someone moving! Who?" asked Hugh eagerly.
"I'm coming to it," said Bert coolly. "It was somewhere close to thespot where the fire first took place. I crept in that direction."
Clive felt a queer little sensation about his spine. Bert's narrativeswere always a little uncanny. He could imagine him creeping like a snaketowards the point where he had heard someone moving. "Do get on!" hecried impatiently. "You do take such a time to tell what happened."
"And you're always in such a violent hurry. Well, I crept there. I wasin the quad, of course, and as all the corridor windows are open Icould easily look in. There was a step in the corridor. Some fellow wascreeping along. But he wasn't silent altogether. Now and again his bootsmade quite a noise. I slid along parallel with him."
The faces of the listeners grew eager. They pressed a trifle closer toBert, wondering what was coming.
"At the corner of the quad, where the corridor turns, the fellow came toa sudden stop," said Bert. "Things looked fishy. I could hear himrummaging in the boot lockers standing there. I wondered whether I oughtto open my lamp and take a squint at him. You see, I wasn't at all surewho it might be."
"Of course," agreed Susanne. "You wanted to get some idea. You didn'twant this beggar to know that you were there till you were fairly surewhat he was up to. You see, we're watching for an incendiary. We ain'tout for any other purpose."
"I'd have collared the chap at once," declared Masters, who was nothingif not impetuous.
"Ah, yes, _you_ would," Bert told him, smiling pityingly on him. "That'sjust my point. Here was a splendid chance for a fellow to make an utterhash of the business and an ass of himself
into the bargain. Masterswould have collared the beggar. I didn't. That's the difference. Yousee, it wasn't an incendiary."
"Then who was it? Tell us," demanded Clive.
"Only Raleigh, stinks master," grinned Bert, whereat there was a roar oflaughter. Masters even grinned, though he felt really angry with Bert.Then, suddenly remembering the episode of the burglars, he smiledsweetly at him. It would do for next time, he thought. When complimentswere flying around again, and there was need for gentle repartee or astinging retort, he had it ready. Asses indeed! Bert needn't talk aftersuch a business.
"You see," went on Bert, "he'd been out to supper with some people, Isuppose. Ain't he rather gone on that Miss Daisy?"
There were nods from the circle. It was a well-known fact that thescience master was paying his addresses at a house in the village. MissDaisy often took part in Ranleigh concerts, and was decidedly popular.So that, if it were any relief to Mr. Raleigh, he had the good wishes ofall at the school.
"They're engaged," Trendall told the company. "They'll be married in thesummer."
"Then good luck to 'em!" cried Bert. "Well, there he was, and all thefumbling was for a candle. He found it after a while, just when Ithought he must have laid his train and splashed the petroleum about inpreparation for a fire. In fact, I was within an ace of flashing my lampon him when there was the scrape of a match. It made me feel quitefunny, I can tell you. I thought he must be about to start the fire. Andthen, when the flame burned up I saw Raleigh's features plainly. He lithis candle, stamped on the match, and went up the stairs to his roomwhistling quietly. There, you've got my report. I was getting a bit sickof watching when the time came along to give up. Masters, just you takewarning by what happened. It's lucky we're not going to take revolvers.You'd have shot poor Raleigh at once, and then Miss Daisy'd have been awidow before she was married."
Bert was perfectly right in repeating the warning, and perhaps it wasstupid of Masters to listen to it so unkindly. But then, had he beenimpetuous, Mr. Raleigh would have become aware of the watching, and, nodoubt, every one of the masters as a consequence. However, no mischiefhad been done, and the secrecy so important to the success of thebusiness was still maintained. That second night Susanne and Hugh tooktheir posts in the corridor, prepared to watch the security of Ranleigh.Nor had they much to report when again the Old Firm was assembled tohear them.
"But it's a bit of a joke, all the same," laughed Susanne. "Wonder whatthe masters would say if they knew how we were watching? One generallysupposes them to be abed at a respectable hour. But they ain't always.It was Raleigh's turn last time. Hugh and I saw two of them creep inbetween twelve and one while we were watching. Who knows? Perhaps Cliveand Masters'll have the pleasure of welcoming the return of the Headfrom a supper party."
That made them grin. Bert jogged Masters' elbow. "What a lark it'd be!"he said. "Of course, you'd collar him. My word! The scene would be worthwatching."
Perhaps it was as well that the members of the Old Firm saw every atomof fun that was going, for the task they had set themselves was destinedto prove monotonous. After all, once the novelty of patrolling a hugeplace wears off, it has few attractions. Then, too, a cosy bed pullshard after a long day's exercise. A whole fortnight passed, in fact,without anything unusual happening.
"Someone's twigged what we're doing, eh?" asked Susanne.
"No," said Clive. "I'm certain. But whoever set those fires going is toocanny to be caught easily. They say that lunatics are awfully artful.This chap's stopped for a while. We've just got to be patient."
And so for a few more days they continued watching, shadowing many alate-returning master. It was almost three weeks from the date of thecommencement of this duty that Clive heard sounds that roused his strongsuspicions. Someone was moving in the corridor, someone who had notentered the school through the front door as had been the case withmasters. A figure glided past him as silently as a ghost. This wassomething entirely different from what he had experienced in the wholecourse of his watching.