The Hero of Garside School

  CHAPTER V

  THE LITTLE HUNCHBACK

  "What is your name, my lad?" Mr. Moncrief asked as he entered the room.

  "Paul Percival," answered our hero.

  "And he goes to the same school as Cousin Stan. Isn't that stunning,pa?" exclaimed Harry Moncrief.

  "Many thanks for the great service you have done, Paul," said Mr.Moncrief earnestly. "You have not only done a great service for me andmy brother, but for your country. A duty like that brings its ownreward. But how was it you came by the back way?"

  Paul then explained all that had happened since he had left Mr.Moncrief's brother. The stoppage on the way by the two men who had triedto wrest from him the letter, the death of poor Falcon, the loss of theletter and its recovery, his arrival at Oakville, and his discovery thatBrockman was lying in wait for him at the house.

  "The scoundrels!" cried Mr. Moncrief, with flashing eyes, as he pacedrapidly to and fro the room. Then, pausing again, he clasped Paul by thehand.

  "I gave you credit for a great deal, but I haven't given you half creditenough. So long as you do your duty as you have done it to-night, youhave nothing to fear for the future. May God bless you, and have youalways in His keeping, as He has had to-night. I will return with youhome, and see that no harm befalls you by the way."

  Mr. Moncrief had already given orders that his trap should be inreadiness as quickly as possible, and shortly after the servant enteredand announced that the coachman was awaiting his master.

  "Good-bye, Paul! You'll look out for me at Garside, won't you?" criedHarry, as he went out.

  "Oh, yes, I'll look out for you!" said Paul, as he thought with a smileof the instructions Plunger had given Harry on his introduction toGarside School.

  Mrs. Moncrief kissed Paul as she wished him good-night, just as hismother did, and he could not help blushing. He wondered whether ConnieMoncrief would do the same, and was much relieved on finding that shemade no attempt to follow her mother's example.

  Nothing was to be seen of the man Brockman when they got outside.

  "He has smelt a rat, and when he found the horse was being harnessed,got away as quickly as possible," said Mr. Moncrief. "We shan't betroubled with him again to-night."

  Mr. Moncrief's surmise turned out to be correct. No further adventurebefel them on the homeward journey. Paul learned, by the way, that theman Zuker was a German Jew of great ability and cunning. He wassuspected to be a spy in the service of a foreign Government--whichGovernment Mr. Moncrief did not mention, but Paul guessed which wasmeant.

  The spy's purpose in coming to England was to ascertain all he could asto the defences of the Thames and the Medway.

  "Can't you have the man arrested?" Paul asked, deeply interested in allhe heard, and feeling more and more convinced that this man Zuker wasthe spy whom his father had saved from the sea at the risk of his ownlife.

  "He's too adroit. He's one of the craftiest spies the Admiralty has everhad to deal with. We can get no direct evidence against him. Neither dowe know his exact whereabouts. He's like some nasty slug--you can onlytell where he's been by the slime he leaves behind. Of course, he hasone or two confederates to help him."

  "I trust they aren't Englishmen, sir?" said Paul.

  "I trust so, too. But I fear there are still Judases in the land--menwho would betray their country, as Judas betrayed his Lord and Master,for money, though the price would be a great deal more than thirtypieces of silver. Our enemies would give a great deal to get a draft ofsome of the plans in the archives of the Admiralty, I can tell you,Paul."

  By this time they had reached Paul's home, to the great relief of Mrs.Percival and Mr. Henry Moncrief, who had begun to fear that some mishaphad befallen Paul by the way. By the latter's request nothing was saidto his mother about the peril in which he had stood, for fear ofalarming her.

  The two brothers had a short interview together. Then, as Mr. HenryMoncrief's leg was still painful, it was decided that he should remainat Rosemore--Paul's home--that night, and return to his own home thenext morning. His brother returned to Oakville that same night.

  The next morning a carriage came for Mr. Henry Moncrief, to which he wasable to limp by the assistance of a manservant.

  "I shan't regret the accident which has introduced me to you and yourson, madam," said he, as he wished Paul and his mother good-bye throughthe carriage window. "I have to thank you for your hospitality, and himfor the great service he has done me. God bless him and you!"

  It was almost an echo of words Paul had heard before, but they fell nonethe less sweetly on his ears. That night he dreamed he was hard at workon the prize essay, "The Invasion of Great Britain," and that just as hehad finished it, a shadow fell across the room. He turned round to seewhence the shadow came, and saw that it was--Zuker! Then he melted intothin air. When Paul turned to his essay he found that that haddisappeared, too. In the shock of the discovery he awoke. Some one wasbending over him, but it was not Zuker. It was his mother.

  "What is it, dear?" she asked anxiously. "You cried out so loudly that Ithought something dreadful had happened."

  "Cried out! What?"

  "Help! help!"

  "Oh," said Paul, laughing, but shivering in spite of himself, "I wasdreaming--that is all! I'm sorry to have disturbed you, mother."

  The day following, the vacation was at an end, and Paul returned toGarside. It was an old, turreted building, dating a couple of centuriesback. Flying from the west turret was a flag, known as the "old flag atGarside." It had a history which was dear to every boy in the school. Ithad been taken by Captain Talbot in the Crimea. The captain had formerlybeen a scholar at Garside. He died soon after of his wounds, and leftthe flag as a legacy to the school.

  "Keep the flag flying at the old school," he said, almost with his lastbreath. And then God received his spirit.

  The flag was very much stained, and had scarcely any of the originalpattern remaining; but, none the less, the boys were prouder of thatflag than any other decoration in the school.

  Just as Paul came in sight of it flying from the turret, a timid voicesounded in his ear:

  "Is that Garside, please?"

  Paul, looking down at the speaker, saw a weak-looking, wizen-faced boy,with pale, thin cheeks, and one shoulder slightly higher than the other.In a word, he was a hunchback. Paul could not help a slight start as helooked at him. The boy was quick to notice it, and a slight wave ofcolour came to the pallid cheek. Paul was annoyed at himself for havingbetrayed astonishment, and answered kindly:

  "Yes; that is Garside. Are you going there?"

  The boy nodded.

  "Very well; we'll go along together. Do you mind taking my arm? Thefellows are rather a rough lot till you get to know them. Your firstterm, isn't it?"

  The boy looked his gratitude as Paul took him by the arm.

  "Yes; my first term," he said.

  "Do you know anybody at the school?"

  "Nobody. I'm quite a stranger."

  He spoke with a foreign accent, and Paul wondered who he could be. Atthe same time he could not help pitying the solitary boy. He would haverather a sorry time of it amongst the other "Gargoyles."

  "Well, youngster"--a junior was always "a youngster" in the eyes of hissenior--"if I can be of help to you at any time, don't be afraid to cometo me. What is your name?"

  "Hibbert--Tim Hibbert. And--and if you don't mind, I'd like to knowyours?"

  Paul told him his name, and they entered the grounds together. A numberof the boys had already arrived. Some stood in small groups, talking andlaughing about incidents that had happened during the vacation. Otherswere playing at leapfrog, or chasing each other from pillar to post.

  Those nearest to the gates paused in their games as Paul entered, andstared at the hunchback. Newall, a senior, said something about"Percival and his camel." The remark was as cruel as offensive. Paul didnot mind for himself, but he did for his companion. He glanced atHibbert, and again noticed the delicate colouring mount to the pa
lecheek. He had evidently caught the sense of Newall's remark, too.

  "They have rough speech as well as rough ways, haven't they?" the boyremarked quietly.

  "Some of them--yes; but you mustn't mind that. They're not such a badlot, take them altogether."

  Newall was one of the most arrogant boys at Garside. He had a roughtongue, and loved to domineer. You will always find your Newalls inevery public school, no matter where it be. They are terrors to thenervous, sensitive boy; but they always succeed in attracting tothemselves followers, lads of like dispositions to themselves.

  Paul knew well enough that Newall intended the remark for his benefit,but he paid no heed to it. He looked round the ground in the hope offinding Stanley Moncrief, but saw nothing of him.

  "Perhaps he's gone to meet that young cousin of his," hesaid to himself, as his mind went back to Oakville, and thenever-to-be-forgotten evening on which he had met Harry Moncrief.Hibbert wished to be taken to Mr. Weevil the science master, as he wasto receive his introduction to the school through that gentleman.

  Paul accordingly took him to Mr. Weevil's rooms. He was fortunate enoughto find the master in. He was a sallow-complexioned man, with thin,clean-shaven lips. He had a restless, hungry-looking pair of eyes, whichwent up quickly to Paul as he entered the room.

  "What is it, Percival?"

  "I've brought along a new boy, sir--Hibbert."

  "Hibbert?" Mr. Weevil at once rose from his seat, and eyed the boykeenly; then his hand went out to the lad: "Welcome to Garside. You canleave us, Percival."

  Thus summarily dismissed, Paul went out, leaving Hibbert and the sciencemaster together. It seemed as though the master were favourablyimpressed with the new boy--in spite of the fact that he was ahunchback.

  "Bravo, Weevil! That's a point in your favour, at any rate. I didn'tthink that you had much pity for any one. Poor little chap!"

  His heart went out in sympathy to the little hunchback. What a shadowhis deformity must cast upon his life?

  "They say that hunchbacks are spiteful, and I don't wonder at it. ButHibbert doesn't seem a spiteful sort of fellow. Where did he pick upthat foreign accent, I wonder?"

  As he thought of him, he could not help thinking how thankful he oughtto be to God that he was healthy and straight of limb. It was not tillhe came in contact with poor, deformed creatures like Tim Hibbert thathe understood God's goodness to himself.

  "Not more than others I deserve, Yet Thou hast given me more,"

  he said softly to himself as he returned to the ground.

  He had not gone far before he saw Stanley Moncrief coming towards him.He was about Paul's age and height, with a like ruddy complexion, andfrank, open face. The two chums were delighted to meet again,especially as so much had happened since their last meeting. Arm in armthey walked about the ground talking eagerly, when their conversationwas suddenly interrupted by a shout of laughter from the other end ofthe ground.

  "I say, Paul, that looks very much like my young cousin coming towardsus," said Stanley, looking in the direction whence the laughter came."What on earth has the little ass been doing with himself?"