CHAPTER XI
FOR THE HONOUR OF THE FORM
Paul was grieved at the turn things had taken. Just at the moment whenhe thought the quarrel ended it had burst out again in a deadlier form.Stanley was very pale. His hands were clenched, as were the hands ofNewall, and the passion that distorted the one face was reflected in alesser degree in the other. Hate never was, and never will be, abeautifier of the face. Like some subtle acid, it makes ugly lines. Youwill never see those lines in a beautiful or noble face, boys and girls.So, if you want to keep from getting ugly, never hate.
Stanley was not only angry at the jibes of Newall, but angry at beingled into a false position.
"I really had no wish to shake hands with you. I'm just as keen onfighting it out as you are," he began.
"One minute," interrupted Paul, stepping between them. "Let me have aword."
"You get out of it, and speak when you're spoken to!" cried Newallroughly. "It was through you coming between us that I got thisbeauty-spot yesterday"--pointing to his swollen lip. "Hadn't you pokedyour nose in where it wasn't wanted this wouldn't have happened, and Iwould have given a good account of myself."
"Sorry, and yet, come to think of it, I'm rather glad," answered Paulcalmly, and not receding an inch from the position he had taken up.
"Glad! How do you mean?"
"Why, if it was through me you got that blow, your quarrel's with me,and not Moncrief. What's the use of trying to pay back to him what youowe to me?"
This was a novel way of looking at the dispute which had not occurred toNewall. As he was not ready with an answer, Paul went on:
"Besides, it was you who got me to speak to Moncrief on--excuse mesaying so--false pretences. I thought you wanted to end the quarrel, toshake hands with him, and have done with it. It wasn't shaking hands youwanted, it seems, but clenched fists. I brought him here on a fool'serrand; so the quarrel's mine, not his."
Stanley wished to step in again, but Paul gently yet firmly held hisground.
"I don't understand quite what you're driving at," said Newall. "It's abit of a riddle; but if you want a thrashing as well as your friend, Idare say you can be obliged, but he comes first. Let him speak forhimself. You can speak for yourself after. Now, Moncrief, no moreshirking."
"It's my quarrel, I say," Paul answered in the same firm tone, and stillkeeping Stanley back. "Of course, you think different, and Moncrief herethinks different, so let's appeal to the Form."
"What's that?" cried Newall.
"Appeal to the Form. The fellows will see things clearer than we can."
The suggestion took Newall's breath away.
"You really mean it?"
"I really mean it."
Newall thought a moment. An appeal to the Form was altogether a newthing, but as he had not the slightest doubt as to which way they woulddecide, why should he not fall in with it?
"Does Moncrief agree to that?" Stanley nodded.
"Very well; let it be as you say, Percival--an appeal to the Form."
Paul, gratified that the quarrel had received a momentary check, wasturning away with Stanley, when Parfitt, who had scarcely spokenthroughout the scene, touched him on the shoulder.
"One minute. Just a little word with you."
He used in effect the same words as Paul had used when he stood betweenNewall and Stanley.
"Didn't you find it rather cold in the corridor last night--eh?" heasked, with a meaning smile.
Before Paul could answer, Parfitt followed in the footsteps of Newall.
Cold in the corridor last night? What did Parfitt mean? The instant Paulput to himself the question the answer came to him--Parfitt must haveseen him leave the dormitory in the night. Was there anything else inhis question? Yes, he felt sure there was something behind it.
"What was it, Paul? What did he want with you?" asked Stanley, coming upto him.
"He wanted to know whether I was in the corridor last night. I thoughtall the fellows were asleep, but he must have been awake, playing thespy."
"What of it? You're not the first fellow who's been in the corridorafter 'lights out' by long chalks."
"It was not that--it was not being in the corridor, and Parfitt knowingit--troubles me. But there's something else--much worse--a beastlyinsinuation. Phew!"
The air seemed to have suddenly grown oppressive to Paul. He was nolonger the calm, cool, self-reliant fellow who had stood between Stanleyand Newall.
"Beastly insinuation! What?"
"You do not know what has happened. While I was with you in Dormitory Xsome one entered the big hall, broke open Weevil's desk, took out theBlack Book, and tore from it the last five pages. That wasn't all. Theculprit, whoever he was, took away some rough notes and plans Weevil hadmade on the subject of the prize essay, 'The Invasion of Great Britain.'Well, do you see now what Parfitt means to insinuate? He means toinsinuate that I am the culprit--that I was the one who broke open Mr.Weevil's desk, tore the leaves from the Black Book, and stole themaster's notes."
"No, no; it can't be!" exclaimed Stanley, aghast.
"It can be, and is; I am sure of it. That is the reason why Parfittcalled me aside in such a mysterious manner."
"The mean cad! But supposing he does wish to insinuate such a dastardlything, you've an easy answer. Are you forgetting what you said justnow--you were with me last night in Dormitory X?"
"I'm not forgetting, Stan. It's you. Supposing I confessed what actuallyhappened--that I was with you, and did not go near the master's desklast night; and supposing you said exactly the same thing--what then?You forget what happened. Mr. Weevil looked in the dormitory, youremember; looked round the dormitory, you remember, and spoke to you. Hesaw nothing of me, because I was hiding. If I said that I was inDormitory X last night, therefore, the master himself would accuse me offalsehood; and he would have the same answer for you if you backed meup."
Stanley did not at once answer. He could now see clearly enough thefalse position in which his friend had been placed in coming to sharewith him in his punishment. But he could only see the chivalry of it. Hedid not see that the step, chivalrous though it might be, had been awrong step, and was bringing in its train the consequences ofwrong-doing.
"Mr. Weevil questioned the school this morning before you returned,"Paul went on. "'Had any one left his dormitory during the night?' heasked. Perhaps I ought to have spoken then; but I let the chance go."
"And Parfitt did not speak?"
"No; but I can see plainly enough now that it wasn't out of any kindnessto me. He kept quiet so that he should hold the secret over me like awhip. He gave me the first taste of the thong just now, and--and--itcuts into a fellow."
Stanley could see the pain in Paul's face, as though he could feel thethong descending upon his shoulders at that moment. He, too, could feelsomething of the same pain. His head fell to his breast. He blamedhimself for having been the cause of all this misery. But suddenly helooked up again, and his face brightened.
"The game's ours!" he cried.
"What do you mean?"
"You twitted me just now about forgetting things, but we've bothforgotten something--Weevil and Zuker. You've forgotten what you saw inthe master's room when you came to me last night."
"Supposing I had; how does that help?"
"Cannot you see?" went on Stanley, quite excited. "Let's put our headstogether for a moment and work it out. Supposing you go to Weevil andtell him straight out that you weren't in your dorm last night, but withme. He contradicts you point-blank. 'You could not have been withMoncrief, because I looked in at his dormitory at midnight and saw thatno one else was there.' Then you bring forward your next piece, and cry,'I think I can prove to you, sir, that I was in Dormitory X last night.''Your proof, quick!' 'My proof is that as I was passing by your room Ihappened to glance in at the window, and saw you with anothergentleman--ahem!--looking over some papers.' Check! You have the masteron toast, Paul. The case for the defence will be clear. Do you followme?"
&nb
sp; Paul did not answer. He saw that this was one solution of the problem;but he was not certain that it was the best.
"Well, what are you thinking about, old chap? Your face is as long as afiddle."
"Your suggestion is a good one, Stan," answered Paul slowly, as thoughhe were still following his thoughts; "but I don't think that I'll actupon it--just yet."
"Why not?"
"Let's work my reasons out as you worked yours--shall we? Reason numberone: We have cause to be suspicious of Mr. Weevil, the master in chargeof this school during the absence of the Head. Heaven grant that oursuspicions may be wrong, but we have reason to suppose that he is inleague with a traitor. Am I clear, Stan?"
"Quite."
"Reason number two: If I told Mr. Weevil what I saw through his windowon my way to you I might clear myself, but it would at once put him onhis guard, and we should never have another chance of proving whetherour suspicions are true or false. Is that clear, too?"
"Yes, yes."
"Well, thirdly and lastly: Don't you think it will be better to keepwhat we know up our sleeves for the present, in view of what may comeafter?"
"You're right, Paul, as you always are!" exclaimed Stanleyenthusiastically.
"No, old fellow, there is only One who is always right," answered Paulearnestly. "We're always patting ourselves on the back and fancyingourselves mighty clever; but we're not. We're asses--always slipping andtumbling about, and when not doing that, running down the wrong road andbutting our stupid heads against posts or walls. Asses, all of us--somebig, some little."
"Where do you come in, Paul?" laughed Stanley.
"Amongst the mediums," Paul laughed back; but as he turned towards theschool his face grew grave again. He had tried to reason things out, butthe way before him did not seem so clear as he could have wished. Therewere pitfalls before him, into one of which he might stumble at anymoment. And as he thought there came to him the lines of a hymn he hadoften heard his mother sing:
"Lord, bring me to resign My doubting heart to Thee; And, whether cheerful or distressed, Thine, Thine alone to be. My only aim be this-- Thy purpose to fulfil, In Thee rejoice with all my strength, And do Thy Holy will."
Entering the school, he sought out Hasluck, head of the Fifth. He was aquiet, studious boy, with glasses. He did not take a very prominent partin the sports, but none the less he was keen on the honour of his form,inside or outside the school.
"I want you to call a meeting of the Form, Hasluck--to-night."
"What about?"
"A little matter between Newall, Moncrief, and me. It touches the honourof the Form."
And Hasluck at once consented.