CHAPTER XX
THE OLD FIRM HANGS TOGETHER
There were white faces amongst the members of the Old Firm on themorning following Clive's arrest by Mr. Axim, and the sentence which theHead had passed on him. The school itself was agog with the news.
"Darrell's bunked! Heard it? What's he done?" was passing on every side.
The prefects discussed the matter for the most part sorrowfully and alittle shamefacedly. It was a terrible blow to them to find that amongsttheir number there was such a criminal.
"It's more than a bunking business," said Roper. "It's a case for thecriminal courts. Darrell'll get years of imprisonment. Arson is a mostserious offence. I wouldn't have thought it of him."
"I don't believe it. There's some mistake, I'm positive," declaredJenkins, one of Clive's particular friends. "Hear what the Old Firm haveto say."
But that the Sixth were not likely to have an opportunity of hearing,for Bert and Hugh and the others were collected together at that momentin the Gym, whither they had departed so as to have peace, and so as tobe able to discuss matters in private. Hugh, as if habit were too strongfor him, sat across the horse. Bert, his face unusually stern, leanedagainst the same apparatus. Susanne stood close at hand, his broadshoulders stooping to a marked degree on this fatal morning. As forTrendall, there was grief written unmistakably on his decidedly pleasantfeatures. Then Masters joined them. They were awaiting his coming, andgave vent to sighs of relief as he came through the Gym doorway andwalked toward them. But it was a weary, despondent Masters. There wasnot the usual elasticity about his step. This fellow, apt to see fun inalmost anything, and very seldom down-hearted, might have been at thisinstant preparing to attend his own funeral.
Susanne beckoned him forward.
"Now, tell us all," he said. "Everything, so that we may judge."
"Then I'll start at eleven last night, when we met in the corridor andcommenced our patrolling."
Very rapidly he narrated the events of the night, unimportant in his owncase till the latter part. Still, he missed nothing, giving them theclosest details. Each one of the Firm stretched a trifle closer when hecame to that portion of the narrative when Mr. Axim called him, and hediscovered Clive face to face with the Head. He even told them whatwords had passed, how Mr. Axim had summed up the matter, how Clive hadrefused to give the name of the boy he more than strongly suspected.
"There's the whole case," he said at last. "I grant you it's black.Things somehow seemed to have worked round to incriminate Clive. It's anawful business. I hate that fellow Axim. He's a howling bounder."
They agreed with him at once.
"And we all trust Clive," said Susanne impressively. "He's the victim ofcircumstances."
"Anyone could sum up the case blackly against him," cried Bert. "Listento this. Because a fire breaks out in the neighbourhood of SouthDormitory Clive must be the culprit. That's Axim's argument. Why notSusanne, then? Because Clive is a candidate for Captain of the School.But so am I. So's Susanne, so's Masters and plenty of others. But listenagain to Axim's reasoning. Clive must be the culprit not only becausehe's a candidate for Captain, but because he engineered the brigadewhich stopped the fire, and because he managed to think of all sorts ofissues, sent to have the gas cut off, sent for the fire brigade, etc.Pshaw!"
He stamped his foot. Looked at quietly one could see the fallacy ofsuch reasoning. Why because Clive had done his best should henecessarily have had an eye to his chances of being elected as Captainof Ranleigh?
"The suggestion's preposterous. I wonder the Head hasn't seen it!" saidTrendall. "Because a chap does well, is he therefore necessarily to havean ulterior motive? The argument's rotten. If persisted in it would soonkill initiative in an institution. A chap would be afraid of beingaccused of all sorts of things. Of course, what clinches a bad argumentis Clive's admission that he saw this chap, believes he knows the fellowin spite of not seeing his face, and yet won't give the name. Herefused."
"Bluntly," said Susanne, almost with a sob. "We interviewed him earlythis morning, Masters and Bert and I. Refused curtly. We asked him why."
"And what's the answer?" demanded Hugh. "Mind you, Clive's a queerbeggar. He loathes Axim. Axim tried to drive him, and that's quiteenough to make Clive shut up. Then he's got queer ideas of honour andall that. What did he say?"
"Refused to discuss the matter. Simply said he wasn't sufficiently sureof his man to launch such an accusation against him. Then shut up andgot quite angry."
"School's summoned in Hall for eleven," said Bert. "I propose we goagain and see Clive. He must give way; we'll compel him."
The idea was one which appealed strongly to them, and since if all wentnumbers might defeat their object, Hugh and Susanne were selected forthe interview, and at once went off to the Bursar's office where Clivewas incarcerated pending his departure from Ranleigh for the railwaystation. Ten minutes later they were back, their faces almost haggard.
"He's gone--hooked it!" cried Susanne, looking round at his friends withanxious eyes.
"Gone! Bolted?" asked Bert, bewildered. "Why?"
"Wouldn't stand to be bullied any longer. Wouldn't have the Head andothers constantly coming to demand the name of the fellow he'd seen.Said that since they openly disbelieved his story they'd better sackhim--in fact, that he'd sack himself. He left a note to tell 'em what hewas doing."
Clive had indeed launched a thunderbolt at all at Ranleigh. The anxiousand harassed Head found his troubles vastly added to by this unforeseenevent. For days past his had been an unenviable existence, and had theOld Firm but known it, he had taken steps to have the outside of theschool closely patrolled every night, while various of the servants hadbeen watched. In fact, the Head had scorned the idea that thisincendiary was one of his own community. Advised by the village sergeantof police, he had come to the conclusion that it must be some madmanliving in the neighbourhood, or someone outside with a grudge againstthe school, someone probably with an intimate knowledge of thebuildings. Strong suspicion, in fact, fell upon one of the men employedabout the place a few weeks before, and summarily dismissed formisconduct.
And now he knew it to be a Ranleigh boy. One had been taken actuallyred-handed. But that boy was Clive Darrell. Even now, with the evidenceso strong against him, the Head could not believe it. And yet, afterfull discussion, he could see no room for error. It seemed certain thatnot only had Clive done this thing and thrown dust in the eyes of thepolice and the school officials, but he had also hoodwinked his ownspecial companions. That system of patrolling was but a ruse to disarmsuspicion. It was strange, more than strange, that Clive should alwaysbe at hand on these occasions when fire broke out, while, if he were theguilty person, as Mr. Axim proved so easily and conclusively, then themotive was plain if despicable.
It may be imagined, too, that this train of argument cut the ground frombeneath the feet of Susanne and his friends. What could the Old Firmbring to controvert such evidence? Merely the stubborn refusal tobelieve Clive guilty. Merely to scoff at the idea that he had made foolsof them.
And now he was gone. If his tale were true, one event and one only couldclear his name and bring him back to Ranleigh. That boy whom Cliverefused to name could come forward and declare the true facts of thecase, and so clear his comrade.
"Axim don't believe there is another fellow in it," said Bert bitterly,when the news of Clive's going was brought to them. "The Head would liketo, but the evidence is too strong for him. But I'm still positive thatClive's straight and honest. He'd never dirty his fingers with such abusiness."
"And I'm going to find him and this other beggar," declared Hugh.
"Bravo! We'll all help," came from Susanne. "Now, look here, youfellows, I've a proposition. We don't want to worry the Head or breakregulations, do we?"
"Certainly not," from Trendall.
"Regulations, no. I'd break that fellow Axim's head," growled Masters.
"At the same time, we believe our biggest and best friend to have be
enwrongfully accused of this crime of arson."
"Yes," said Bert emphatically. "He is a victim of circumstances."
"And since his future and his fair name concerns us more than schoolregulations, I'm going to break 'em. I'm going off at once to findClive. Hugh'll come with me, also Masters and Trendall, if they like."
Each one mentioned eagerly accepted. "It's the least we can do," saidMasters. "How'll you set about it?"
"One moment," cried Susanne, lifting a hand.
"What about me, then?" asked Bert.
"You will have just as important work. You will read our manifesto.We'll draw it up now, put the full facts in it, and declare ourintention of searching for Clive. At eleven, when the school meets, andthe Head comes in to announce Clive's expulsion, you'll stand out anddemand that this decision be delayed for a while, till we'veinvestigated the matter. He won't refuse. He's far too decent a fellow.Meanwhile, we shall move off. I'll hire that new car they've got at the'Green Man' down in the village, that is, as soon as we've made sure hehasn't taken the train. Then we'll run round in all directions askingfor information. It's nine now. Let's get the manifesto written andsigned, and then slip off. Bert will see what can be done here to pickup some crumbs of evidence."
Without discussion, without further thought indeed, the Old Firm adoptedthis proposition. They may not have been right. It would have beenbetter, perhaps, had they started on their own ground by seeking furtherevidence in the school, instead of delegating that task to Bert. Butthen, the Old Firm was notorious for its impetuosity and also forwarm-heartedness. They were true friends ever, and here they meant toprove it. If Clive were innocent, then he should be found and broughtback to the school. If he were guilty, why, not one of the Old Firmwould believe it till he himself had admitted it.
And so that manifesto was drawn up by Bert, when all signed it. Then hewatched them depart from the school, and went off himself to sift thematter to the bottom. It may be imagined what a sensation his presencecaused some two hours later, when, the Head having come before theassembled school and mounted the dais to make his painful announcement,Bert walked from amongst his fellows and coolly--for he had bracedhimself for this trying ordeal--stepped up beside him.
"Boys of Ranleigh," began the Head, not having noticed Bert, "I have amost painful announcement to make. You are aware that fires haveoccurred in the school of late, fires caused by an incendiary. Theculprit has now been found. I regret to say that it is Clive Darrell."
There was dead silence in the Hall. The Head stood with his shouldersthrown back, his eyes firmly closed as was his wont, looking positivelymiserable. It was, in fact, a miserable business. Here was a promisingboy's future ruined. The only little solace, and it was likely enoughonly a temporary one, was the fact that Clive had bolted. There was awarrant out already for his arrest, and to see him in the police court,to witness his trial and condemnation would be the very last straw.Ranleigh's unhappy Head would have given thousands could he have undonethe whole matter, thousands to save Clive Darrell, for he liked theyoung fellow, and thousands also to save the honour of the School. Heopened his eyes then, heard a step beside him, and saw Bert for thefirst time. Mr. Axim had seen him a minute earlier, for all the masterswere present, as was the custom on such occasions, and had officiouslyattempted to arrest him. But Bert shook his hand off peremptorily, andnow advanced to the Head's side.
"I have to ask pardon, sir," he began. "Clive Darrell is an old friendof mine, and I come here to support him in his absence. I have here apaper recapitulating the evidence against him, which I and Clive's bestfriends have drawn up. We feel sure that you are too fair not to allowus to put it before the School. May I read it?"
There was surprise on the Head's face. Mr. Axim was openly scoffing. Buta partisan of Clive's down at the end of the school boldly set up acheer. Feeling was indeed running high. Ranleigh still could not believeClive Darrell guilty, and now by their cheers they openly demanded tohear the evidence in full. It was, indeed, a novel situation. The Headgrappled with it magnificently. He stood aside, and then held up hishand.
"We pride ourselves on fair play at Ranleigh," he said. "Let SeymourPrimus and his friends prove Clive Darrell innocent, and I shall be thefirst to thank them. Read the paper."
Bert did, slowly and impressively. Perhaps Susanne could not have chosena better man to put those facts before Ranleigh. The boys seemed to gripthe situation instantly. There were cheers as he reached the end of hismanifesto, and then dead silence. Bert had still something to say.
"Sir," he said, turning to the Head, "there is a Ranleighan here who isthe really guilty party. Who set fire to the school? I beg that you askhim to come forward, and I ask also that you defer Clive Darrell'sexpulsion till we have had time to sift certain evidence. We have aclue. Fair play, sir, is all that we ask of you."
You could have heard the smallest pin drop on the tiled paving of theHall. Even the smaller boys failed on this momentous occasion to shuffletheir feet, an irritating habit they often acquire, while the seniors ofRanleigh School moved not a muscle. There were none of those sharp,barking coughs so noticeable in class-rooms, or in Chapel, whichdistract the attention of the reader and make his voice almostinaudible. There was a deep and impressive silence. As for the faces ofthose collected in Hall, they wore a hundred different expressions. TheHead's fine, impassive features were heavily lined. He seemed to haveactually aged. Mr. Branson, that genial giant so deservedly popular,showed utter misery on his somewhat heavy face. For Old B. had a tenderspot in his heart for Clive Darrell, just as he had for many anotherboy. He had seen him arrive at the school, a mere mischievous chicken.He had watched him grow up, had coached him in his work and in cricket,where Clive did not shine as Bert did. Often had a smile or a word fromOld B. encouraged our hero. And here was the end of it all--disgrace,dismissal; perhaps imprisonment.
"A better fellow never came to Ranleigh," he was muttering. "I don'tbelieve this tale. There's a fault somewhere. Clive's a stickler forhonour. Why should he give the name of a boy whom he believes he saw,but whose back was always towards him? Then, too, the only light hepossessed was an electric torch, and that went out when his fingerslipped off the trigger. I grant that many would have given the name.It's just the sort of occasion when Clive would refuse, partly becauseit's a point of honour with him to protect the name of all Ranleighans,mostly because there is just a doubt in his mind as to whether he canhave been mistaken, and he will not therefore fling an accusation ofsuch a serious nature at anyone on such evidence."
Old B. went scarlet in the face. His eyes flashed. He lifted a hand inprotest, and stepped forward. "I----" he began, but the Head waved himback peremptorily.
"Wait," he asked a second later. Then his eyes closed. He threw himselfinto his characteristic attitude, while a deep frown furrowed his brow.From his position on the dais Bert slowly watched the expressions on thefaces of those assembled, watched and waited. There was positive fearand alarm in the case of many of the youngsters. Middle School fellowswere obviously stirred, though the presence of so many masters, and ofthe Head in particular, quelled any outburst. But the seniors were notso vastly impressed. There was resolution on some of the faces,indignation on others, and nowhere could he detect a sign of triumph atClive's downfall. Nowhere. Jenkins stood with clenched fists, biting hislips and deep in thought. Roper appeared to be on the point of burstinginto speech. His cheeks were puffed out and reddened, while his breastwas absolutely swelling at the thought of the injustice which heconsidered had been done. Even Rawlings, the oldest boy present, lookedsorry. There was none of the old truculence, the open scorn of hisrival, for Clive had now become in every way his rival. More than oncein the last year had Rawlings aspired to take the post of Captain ofRanleigh, but, as we have said, his unpopularity was too pronounced. Andnow that an election was imminent, it was certain that Clive, were he atthe school, would have gained the coveted honour. That was Rawlings'fault. He should long ago have cultivated the friendship o
f his fellows.Now he had lost it for good, and without doubt should have left theschool long ago. Why he remained on was never quite understood, thoughit was rumoured that some family trouble had caused him to stay. Be thatas it might, he was still a Ranleighan, still unpopular, while of late,perhaps because his own bosom friends had left, he had become silent andtaciturn, given to long fits of brooding, and sometimes to outbursts ofpassion.
No, there was merely sorrow on Rawlings' features, sorrow and acuriously dazed expression. And elsewhere only on the face of one wasthere any expression hostile to our hero. Mr. Axim scowled. He felt thathe himself now stood as prisoner in the dock. For he it was who hadcaught Clive, he it was who had scoffed at his declaration of innocence,had summed up the evidence, had produced a motive for the acts, and hadthus impressed the Head. And here was open rejection of his decision, ofhis arguments and of Clive's sentence. The position was, in fact, uniquein Ranleigh's annals, unique perhaps in the annals of almost everyschool in existence.
"Monstrous!" he was muttering. "The evidence is clear. These people willbe accusing me of the crime next. As if I were swayed by animus! As ifit were not absolutely clear that Darrell is the guilty party.
"I--I protest," he cried, and then was silenced just as had been thecase with Mr. Branson. The Head actually scowled at his assistantmaster.
"Allow me, if you please," he said, with acrid emphasis. And then hefaced the School. Slowly he allowed his gaze to pass down the lines ofboys assembled at their tables. He seemed to look closely into everyface, seemed almost to ask the question on every occasion. Then he threwhis head back and closed his eyes. But they were open a second laterwhen he addressed the School in tones more solemn than any had everknown him to employ before.
"Ranleighans," he said, "I beg of you to listen to what I have to say.One of your old comrades has been declared to be guilty of the mostdastardly conduct. I need not say more on that point, for theparticulars are thoroughly known. Last night the evidence against himseemed to my mind to be conclusive. There was no fault that I coulddiscover, and though Darrell himself denied the acts he still declinedto give the name of one he suggested was the author of those fires. NowSeymour Primus demands a respite. I give it freely, willingly. If therebe a doubt in this case, if delay may produce some evidence to clearClive Darrell, then, in Heaven's name, let us delay. But let us alsosearch our own consciences. That one whom Clive Darrell suggests isguilty, whose name he refused to give, is a Ranleigh boy. I beg of thatboy to come boldly forward for his conscience' sake, for the sake ofClive Darrell."
The silence was positively trying. Bert felt almost as if he wouldexplode if something did not soon happen to lessen the tension. Boysstood at their places absolutely pale and over-strung, unmanned almostby this ordeal. But none spoke. Not a boy came forward to proclaim hisguilt and Clive's innocence. There was not so much as a sound for onefull minute. And then there came a startling crash from the far end ofthe Hall. The clatter of feet was heard, the double doors were burstopen, and there entered a small procession.
Susanne led the way, with Masters close behind him. Then came Hugh armin arm with Trendall. The village sergeant of police followed closely,looking wonderfully important and just a little nonplussed at findinghimself for a few brief moments the observed of all observers. Butinterest passed almost at once from him and those who led theprocession. A solitary figure marching behind became the target for allobservers.
"Clive Darrell!" shouted Bert. "Hooray for Clive Darrell!"