The Hero of Garside School

  CHAPTER XXX

  HIBBERT FINISHES HIS STORY

  "Is he in pain?" whispered Paul, as he looked down upon the stillfigure, for Hibbert's face looked strangely old and worn for one soyoung, and it was as white as the pillow upon which it lay.

  "I don't think so, but I've noticed, Master Percival, that he always hasthat troubled look when he's sleeping, just as though he had somethingon his mind," answered Mrs. Trounce.

  Paul's mind went swiftly back to the last time he was in that room--tothe confession Hibbert had begun and left unfinished. Was it that whichwas troubling him?

  "Does he sleep well?"

  "Not always like he's sleeping now. Often and often I've heard himcalling you in his sleep, as I told you just now. I'm good enough forshaking up his pillow, giving him medicine, and that sort of thing, butI've found out that boys are strange critters to deal with. They want alot of knowing, Master Percival, but I know 'em, and what Master Hibbertwants sometimes is one of his own school-fellows to talk to. That'sbetter than medicine. Mr. Weevil's very kind to the boy, but he don'tunderstand him."

  "Doesn't Mr. Weevil like my seeing Hibbert?"

  "Well, he hasn't exactly forbidden it, or I shouldn't have let you in;but he thinks you excited him when you were with him on the night of theaccident. But, as I sez, Mr. Weevil don't understand boys when they'reill. When Mr. Colville was in charge it was different. He knew boys hedid. I wish he was back again. Since he went away things have all gonewrong."

  Paul heartily echoed her wish. Garside was quite different from what ithad been when Mr. Colville was there. He had hoped day by day thatintelligence would come of his return; but the Head still remained inthe south of France, too ill to attend to his duties at the school.

  Presently the eyes of Hibbert slowly opened. A glad cry came from hislips when they rested on Paul.

  "Percival, is it really you? I thought they were never going to let mesee you again. Thanks, Mrs. Trounce; it's very kind of you."

  A faint tinge of colour came to the pale cheek; the look of pain hadgone from the face. The sight of Paul seemed to have put new life andvigour into him. The matron promptly noted the change, and was verypleased that she had taken upon herself the responsibility of admittingPaul into the room.

  "There, there; you mustn't get excited, or I shall be blamed for lettingMaster Percival in to see you, and he won't come again, will you?"

  "Of course I won't," answered Paul promptly.

  "I'm not the least excited, only glad--glad--so glad!"

  He repeated the word three times, to make sure there might be no mistakeabout it, and his thin fingers closed round Paul's, as though he fearedhe might slip away.

  "I hope the other fellows haven't got into trouble through me?" heasked. "Mr. Weevil would never tell me anything."

  "Oh, no; they've got off very lightly, so don't worry about that.Plunger is going about as cheeky as ever."

  A faint smile flickered over the boy's face.

  "Plunger's rare fun. He was really just as much terrified as I was whenBaldry and the other fellows turned up as Indians on the 'desertisland.' I can laugh at it now, though I didn't laugh much then."

  He lay placidly with his hand in Paul's, then turned pleadingly to thematron.

  "Let Percival stay with me a bit. It'll do me good, and I'm sure youwant a little change."

  Mrs. Trounce could see that the presence of Paul had worked wonders, soshe had no hesitation in leaving the two together, giving Paul strictinjunctions before doing so that he was to ring the bell in case shewas needed. Immediately she had gone from the room Hibbert turnedeagerly to Paul.

  "I've been waiting to go on with what I was telling you when you werelast here, Percival. It has lain here--here!"--beating his breast. "Ithas kept me awake at night, and--and the time seemed so terribly longand dreary. I watched and waited for your coming, but though you camethey would never let me see you. Mr. Weevil was the only one I couldspeak to, and I could not tell him what was on my mind."

  "Why not? He is very kind to you."

  "Why not--why not! When I've told you, you will understand."

  "You must not excite yourself. You must not talk. If you do I will ringthe bell and bring back Mrs. Trounce."

  "You wouldn't be so cruel, Percival, when I've been waiting so long tosee you and speak to you again. It's that kept me back, made me weary,and weak, and sick at heart. When I lay awake at night-time I keptsaying to myself, 'If I should die without seeing Percival again,without telling him what is on my mind, God would never forgive me.'"

  "If all of us were as good as you, we should be a good deal better thanwe are, and God wouldn't have to forgive much," said Paul tenderly."But, there, don't get excited, and I will listen."

  For Paul could now see clearly enough that Hibbert had really suffered agood deal of mental pain and torture through not being able to completethe confession he had begun to him.

  "Thanks," came the eager answer. "It will not take long, for I haven'tmuch more to say. Let me see, where did I leave off? Oh, I was speakingabout the man who was a spy on your father on that day Mr. Weevilentered the room, wasn't I?"

  "Yes--Israel Zuker."

  "I haven't forgotten the name," said Hibbert, with a painful smile. "I'mnot likely to forget it--never, never, never! For--for it happens to bemy name."

  "Hibbert!" cried Paul.

  "My name. Israel Zuker, the man who spied upon your father, and whoselife he saved at the risk of his own, was my father."

  Paul staggered back, as though he had been smitten in the face. Hibbertthe son of the German spy! Hibbert the son of Zuker! Impossible! He waswandering. The story he--Paul--had once told him about his own father,and the way he had lost him, had got on the boy's mind.

  "Ah, you shrink from me! I don't wonder at it!" cried Hibbert. "Didn't Itell you what a hypocrite I was--how wicked?"

  "No, no, Hibbert," answered Paul, taking again the hand he had let fallfrom him; "nothing you can say will ever make me shrink from you.But--but you have so surprised me. I cannot understand. Let me think fora moment--Israel Zuker your father. How can that be when your name isHibbert?"

  "That is a false name. I told you once that I knew of a boy of that namein Germany. I was speaking of myself, for I spent three years of my lifeat a school in Heidelberg before I came here."

  "Then the man I saw this afternoon--the man who thanked me for savingthe life of his son, was----"

  "Israel Zuker, my father--the man whose life your father saved, as you,his son, have saved mine. Now can you understand what I have suffered,Percival, by having this terrible secret on my mind? When I heard yourstory that day you don't know what I felt--what a mean, contemptiblecad. I felt that I was a spy on you, just as my father had been a spy onyour father--a spy on you, who had been so good to me. Oh, it wasterrible! And then you saved my life, just as your father had saved myfather's years ago. And that was heaping coals of fire on my head. Icouldn't endure it."

  He covered his face with his hands. He was choking back the sobs thatseemed of a sudden to convulse his frame.

  "I shall really have to ring the bell and send for Mrs. Trounce," saidPaul firmly.

  The threat had its desired effect. Hibbert uncovered his face; the sobsdied away in his throat. Then Paul put an arm round him, as he mighthave done round a brother, and said, in a softer key:

  "Look here, Hibbert--what your father may have done is no fault ofyours. God only judges us by what we do ourselves; and that's all I wantto judge you by. You've looked upon me as your friend; I want you tolook upon me as your friend still. Haven't I said that nothing you cansay will make me shrink from you?"

  "How good, how noble you are, Percival!"

  "Humbug! But listen to me--we're getting a little off the track. Thegentleman I was introduced to in the visitors' room this afternoon wasyour father, Israel Zuker, you say?"

  "Yes."

  "Wearing a false beard, then?"

  "Yes. But how did you know that? Have
you met him before?" asked the boywonderingly.

  Paul now understood what it was in the voice of the visitor that hadseemed familiar to him.

  "I met somebody of that name during last vacation, so I suppose it musthave been the same," he answered, with pretended indifference; "but hewasn't wearing a beard. It's a good disguise. What's he afraid of?"

  "Well, he's obliged to. I'm telling you this as a secret, and I know Ican trust you not to repeat it. My father's an agent of one of theforeign Governments, and he's obliged to put on a disguise sometimes toget information."

  "But what information does he want to get that makes him weardisguises?"

  "I never could quite make out, but I know it's to do with secretservice. He once told me that every Government has secret service.That's all I ever knew."

  He seemed to have an uneasy suspicion that his father's profession wasnot a very honourable one, for his head sunk to his breast.

  "Is your father a friend of the master's--Mr. Weevil, I mean?"

  "Well, yes--more than a friend; but it's another secret I don't want toget about the school. Mr. Weevil would be very angry if it did, so youmust promise me not to repeat it."

  And Paul, scarcely knowing all his promise meant, promised him. Then theboy leant very close to him and whispered: "Mr. Weevil's my uncle."

  This information was almost as startling and unexpected as theinformation that had preceded it. As it fell from Hibbert's lips, Paulalmost feared that the door would open and Mr. Weevil would walk in,just as he had walked in before.

  "Your uncle!" he repeated.

  "Well, it's this way, you see. My mother was English. She was the onlysister of Mr. Weevil. I know he was very fond of her, for I've heardmother say that he was a good brother, and that she was the only one forwhom he had a greater love than he had for science. My father first mether when he used to give lessons in German and French--he knows three orfour languages--at the school where Mr. Weevil was master before he camehere. I think my father was then what they call a refugee. My motherdied three years ago; then I went to Heidelberg again, and last of all Icame here. You remember the day--at the opening of the term."

  Remember the day! Paul was never likely to forget it. He rememberedevery incident in connection with it--Hibbert coming to him in thegrounds, the insult put upon him by Newall, and the other incidents thatfollowed.

  "I remember," he said gravely.

  The door opened as he spoke, and Mrs. Trounce entered.

  "What, sitting up!" she cried, for Hibbert was still sitting, with thearm of Paul gently supporting him.

  "Yes; I feel so much stronger and better," he answered brightly.

  "I'm glad to hear it, but I think you'd better lie down now. If Mr.Weevil came in now he would have a fit."

  Paul thought it highly probable such a catastrophe would happen if themaster had any suspicion of what Hibbert had told him. So he gently laidthe patient down again.

  "You'll come again, Percival?" he pleaded.

  And Paul promised.