WHO DID IT? 
 
 A SCHOOLBOY'S TALE.
 
 BY THE SAME AUTHOR 
 
 HAIR-BREADTH ESCAPES ; or, the Adventures of Three 
 Boys in South Africa. With 8 Illustrations. Cloth elegant, 55. 
 
 "An exciting record of sport." Graphic. 
 
 "The tone of the whole book 's so good and high that a parent could 
 do nothing but good by putting it into a boy's hand." Literary 
 Churchman. 
 
 "Will delight the heart of all English boys." Standard. 
 
 " The book bristles with adventures, with perilous encounters, with 
 marvellous escapes." J'ail Mall Gazette. 
 
 COLLEGE DAYS AT OXFORD. With 6 Illustrations by 
 J. Lawson. Cloth elegant, 35. 6d. 
 
 "Tbe characters are sketched with some spirit, and the writing is 
 pleasant. . . . May on the whole be congratulated upon his success" 
 Saturday Review. 
 
 "The book is thoroughly hea'thy. and the incidents varied and well 
 described. The characters are real Oxford men, and not mouthpieces 
 for giving out social or educational theories." Graphic. 
 
 " Interesting and readable. ... A capital picture of University 
 life " School Board Chronicle. 
 
 GRIFFITH & FARRAN : 
 
 WEST CORNER ST PAUL'S CHURCHYARD, LONDON. 
 
 E. P. DUTTOX AND Co., NEW YoKK.
 
 WHO DID IT? 
 
 OR, 
 
 HOLM WOOD PRIORY. 
 
 a Scboolbo^s Gale. 
 
 BY 
 
 THE REV. H. C./APAMS, M.A., 
 
 VICAR OF OLD SHOREHAM. 
 
 AUTHOR OF "COLLEGE DAYS AT OXFORD." "HAIR-BREADTH ESCAPES," 
 "SCHOOLBOY HONOUR," ETC. 
 
 "Which of you have done this?" MACBETH. 
 
 ILLUSTRATED BY A. W. COOPER. 
 
 NEW YORK: E. P. DUTTON & CO. 
 
 GRIFFITH & FARRAN, ST PAUL'S CHURCHYARD, LONDON.
 
 (The Rights of Translation and of Reproduction are reserved^)
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 THE WAGER, . . . . . . . I 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 THE GIPSY GIRL, . . . ..... 17 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 AN ADVENTURE, . . . . . .. . , 32 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 ANOTHER NARROW ESCAPE, ... 48 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 THE PISTOL MATCH, ... . . . .63 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 A RETROSPECT. ...... 80 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 THE LION, ....... 97 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 GEORGE'S TROUBLES, . . . . . 112
 
 vi Contents. 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 GEORGK'S LETTER, .... 129 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 A SMUGGLER'S DEN, ..... 145 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 THE HAWLEY EXHIBITION, ..... l6l 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 A STRANGE DISCOVERY, . . . . .177 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 THE PISTOL, ..... 193 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 A BATHING LESSON, ...... 209 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 A SIGHT OK THE REGISTER, ... 225 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 THE REGATTA, . ,, 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 THE F(X)TBALL MATCH, .... -,-j 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 THE MEET AT DARLASTON, ... 2 _- 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 WITH KkNE CAVES, . ,o
 
 Contents. v jj 
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 THE GIPSY'S HOLLOW, 
 
 3 J 
 
 CHAPTER XXI. 
 
 AYE, WHO INDEED ! . 
 
 CHAPTER XXII. 
 
 A STRANGE RESOLVE, , 
 
 j3 
 CHAPTER XXIII. 
 
 THE GREEN HOLM, ... 
 
 CHAPTER XXIV. 
 
 THE ANSWER AT LAST, ...
 
 ILLUSTRATIONS. 
 
 TAGE 
 
 \ K'II I.KTTER MIND WHAT YE'RE AT," Frontispiece, . 72 
 
 "A VERY INTERESTING TABLEAU WAS NOW PRESENTED," 56 
 
 "THE BRUTE RENEWED HIS EFFORTS WITH INCREASED 
 
 FURY," ....... 105 
 
 AT THAT BOAT," . ... 152 
 
 "THF. REASON IS PLAIN ENOUGH, SIR," . . . 188 
 
 "I.K.HTLY AND WITHOUT APPARENT EFFORT THE 
 
 HOLMWOOD CHAMPION GLIDED ALONG," . . 254 
 
 " JACK RAGGETT RAN BACK, HALLOOING TO O'TOOLE," . 311 
 
 ( Kl -MNC.HAM COULD SEE HIM STRUGGLING IN THE 
 
 -.... 356
 
 WHO DID IT? 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 THE WAGER. 
 
 " DULL work this !" exclaimed Jerry Taunton, a lad of seven- 
 teen or so, whose naturally merry face wore, for the nonce, a 
 most lugubrious aspect. " I wish the weather would at all 
 events make up its mind, whether it meant to be wet or 
 dry!" 
 
 " It has made up its mind," growled Rawes, a heavy loutish- 
 looking lad of near about the same age. " It has made up its 
 mind to be wet all the afternoon, and to be nothing else. It 
 is always wet on a half holiday now. I think I never saw a 
 place look more beastly than this playground does on a rainy 
 day ! " And as he spoke, he glanced sullenly round him at 
 the grimy discoloured bricks of the playground wall of Holm- 
 wood Priory, as Dr Thornton's school was called, and the 
 soaking gravel of the playground itself, in which large puddles 
 were forming. Nor was the prospect much relieved by the 
 
 A
 
 2 Whodidtt? 
 
 back-ground of sepia clouds and mist, which was all that was 
 visible in the distance beyond. 
 
 " Wet all the afternoon ! How do ye know that. Johnny 
 Rawes ? " cried one of his companions, whose rich brogue at 
 once declared him to be a native of the Emerald Isle. 
 
 " How do I know it, Maurice ? " returned Rawes. " Why, 
 by using my own eyes, I suppose." 
 
 " Your own eyes ! Haven't I known afternoons which were 
 nothing but clouds and wet, and yet turned out sunshiny after 
 all ? And ain't my eyes as good as yours any day in the 
 week?" 
 
 " They must have been afternoons in Ireland, Maurice," 
 observed Jerry Taunton. 
 
 " In Ireland ! to be sure they were ! Where else would 
 they be?" 
 
 " I can't say, I am sure," responded Taunton. " In Eng- 
 land, you know, when an afternoon is nothing but clouds and 
 wet, the sun, as a rule, doesn't come out at all ! " 
 
 " I judge ye've never been in Ireland, Jerry," responded 
 O'Toole ; " and how would ye know what the weather is like 
 there ? I tell ye I've seen the whole of Killarney covered with 
 rain and fog, as thick as a blanket, and in half an hour may- 
 be it would be all bright and sunshiny. More by token, there 
 is the blessed sun himself coming out this very minute to 
 prove the truth of what I say!" He pointed as he spoke 
 to a feeble glimmer among the watery clouds, which, to 
 use a favourite schoolboy phrase, was just enough to swear 
 by. " There he is, and good luck to him," said O'Toole. 
 
 " That may be the blessed sun for all I know," said Taunton, 
 " though what there is to make him blessed, is more than I
 
 The Wager. 3 
 
 can see. Anyhow, he is not going to bless us with his com- 
 pany just at present. Hadn't we better go into the house, 
 Graves ? " he proceeded, turning to one of his schoolfellows, 
 a tall, powerfully built youth, of rather striking appearance, 
 and whose face would have been handsome and pleasing, but 
 for its air of sullen hauteur. " Hadn't we better go in and 
 try whether we can't amuse ourselves with something ? Any- 
 thing is better than hanging about here, staring at the rain. 
 There are the foils " 
 
 "We've enough of them when Laniski is here," observed 
 Dilke, a boy of the same age. 
 
 " And, moreover, it isn't pleasant keeping your head in those 
 masks, like a bird in a cage," observed Payne. 
 
 "And it isn't pleasant fighting without them," added 
 O'Toole, " particularly when the button happens to be off the 
 foil. Wasn't my cousin Larry Sullivan wasn't he run through 
 both cheeks like a lark on a spit, when he was fencing one 
 day, and had to have the holes patched up. But there are 
 the gloves " 
 
 "The gloves are rather^ worse than the foils;" said Rawes. 
 
 " Ah, ye're thinking of the facer Temple gave ye yester- 
 day," remarked O'Toole. "Ye shouldn't have challenged 
 him, my boy. I judge he's too much for ye. ' Impar con- 
 gressus Achilla} as Hepburn remarked, ye remember." 
 
 " Hepburn's a fool," growled Rawes. 
 
 " Is he ? " retorted the Irishman. " Maybe, but it was you 
 that looked the fool, to my mind." 
 
 Rawes would have retorted, but Graves interposed. " None 
 of this," he said. " I agree with Rawes that the gloves are 
 rather stupider than the foils. But I've got a pack of cards
 
 4 Who did iff 
 
 in my bureau, which I bought yesterday in Walesdiff. We can 
 go into my study and have a rubber. That will help out the 
 afternoon till it holds up, as I half fancy it will do by and bye" 
 
 "Shouldn't we have Hepburn or Wilkes, or maybe the 
 Doctor himself looking in ? " suggested Payne. " It would 
 make the Doctor tremendously savage, if he caught fellows 
 playing cards in the studies. He'd be down upon us like 
 blazes, and very likely give us a black cross apiece that 
 forfeits a hundred marks, you know." 
 
 "Who'd care if he did?" said Rawes. "What signifies 
 losing a hundred marks in the beastly old School Register ? " 
 
 " I daresay ye don't care, Dick," observed O'Toole. " It 
 doesn't matter to you how many marks Hepburn knocks off 
 your list, seeing ye never have any to knock off. A man might 
 as well threaten to strip a Highlander of his trousers, or 
 Charlie Temple of his money, as you of your marks. But 
 they that have got 'em, don't like to lose 'em." 
 
 "Nobody will get a black cross," observed Taunton. 
 "Wilkes and M 'Donald have gone to lunch with old Gurdon, 
 and the Doctor and Hepburn have both of them gone over to 
 Wickfield." 
 
 Wickfield," repeated Graves ; " then they won't be back 
 for ihree or four hours at least Well, then, let us go in and 
 begin." 
 
 " Hear, hear," said Taunton, as they moved off " It's 
 stupid work playing cards for nothing, and I haven't a brass 
 farthing in my pocket to stake, or rather, I have just one six- 
 pence and no more. But it's better than nothing. I sav, 
 Stephen," he added, taking Graves by the arm, " if we were only 
 at Wilworth, with the billiard-table and the shooting-gallery,
 
 The Wager. 5 
 
 and all the rest of it, we shouldn't care for the rain, should 
 we?" 
 
 "No," returned Graves," we might make out the afternoon 
 pretty well there; but we can't expect billiard-tables and 
 shooting-galleries in a miserable hole like this." 
 
 " By the by, talking of Wilworth," said Taunton, " I heard 
 from my cousin yesterday about his gun and pistols. He does 
 want to sell them. He says hell let you have them cheap, only 
 he would like to know, as soon as he could, whether you mean 
 to buy them." 
 
 " What does he call cheap?" asked Graves. 
 
 " Thirty guineas the gun and case ; ten guineas the pistols," 
 replied Taunton. " Dirt cheap, he says." 
 
 " Dirt cheap ! " repeated OToole ; " by the powers, the dirt 
 in your part of the country must be valuable. It must be gold 
 dust, I'm thinking, to fetch that price. I am wondering if ye 
 call that cheap what ye'd call dear ! " 
 
 " Ah, ye've never seen them, Maurice," replied Taunton ; 
 "but Stephen and I have, and we know they*reworth the money, 
 and more. And you can pay that, Stephen, to be sure. Your 
 guardian would let you have the thirty guineas for the asking, 
 that is, if he happened to be in a good humour." 
 
 " So he might, Jerry," returned Graves, " but unluckily he 
 isn't often in a good humour now-a-days. He made a great 
 row about that horse last holidays, and I couldn't get more 
 than a fiver out of him when I came back this half. But you 
 are right, Jerry. They are well worth the forty guineas, and I 
 should like particularly to have them. Ill write to Clara, and 
 ask her to try and come round him. Ill write this minute, if 
 you'll go into my study and get the cards out"
 
 6 Who did iff 
 
 Meanwhile the other first-class boys had remained behind 
 in the shed, which was the play-place of the school during wet 
 weather ; and Dilke and O'Toole, who were not to take part 
 in the rubber, lounged out again to join them. The aspect of 
 the sky had improved a little, but the rain continued to come 
 persistently down. 
 
 " Let us do something, at all events," cried Winburne, after 
 a quarter of an hour passed in mingled hope and despondency. 
 " Nothing can be more stupid than hanging about with our 
 hands in our pockets. Suppose we try leap-frog, or fly-the- 
 garter." 
 
 " There isn't room for either," observed Wright. " They've 
 often been tried, but it has always been found that there isn't 
 space enough for them. But, I say, did I hear any one say 
 just now that the Doctor and Hepburn had gone out ? " 
 
 " Yes," said O'Toole, " I said so. I heard it just now in the 
 school-room. They are gone to Wickfield, so Tom Cobbe 
 says." 
 
 " Wickfield ! are you sure of that ? " asked Burton, the head 
 boy of the school. " Do you know what they have gone there 
 for?" 
 
 " No," was the answer. " I fancy Cobbe said something 
 about a pupil " 
 
 " A pupil ? an old pupil or a new one ? " broke in Burton. 
 
 " I can't say," replied O'Toole. " Cobbe didn't tell us." 
 
 "Wickfield," repeated Temple, a bright, intelligent, but 
 rather roguish-looking lad, the next in school-order to Burton. 
 " Have the Doctor and Hepburn gone there in the old family 
 landau?" 
 
 " I believe not," said Dilke, to whom the question seemed
 
 The Wager. 7 
 
 to be addressed. " There is a coach that goes to Wickfield 
 and returns every day. I fancy they have gone by that. Any- 
 way they haven't taken the landau." 
 
 " Haven't they ? " said Temple. " Then I'll tell you what. 
 Suppose we send a respectful message to Mrs Thornton, and 
 ask for the loan of the landau ourselves ! No doubt she'll be 
 proud and happy to lend it, and then we can take a drive into 
 the country. There'll be room for seven of us Burton, Cress- 
 ingham, George, and myself inside ; Maurice on the box ; Jack 
 Winburne and Tom Hibbert in the rumble." 
 
 " Hooroo ! " shouted the Irishman. " Ye're a sensible child, 
 Charlie ! We'll make a morning call at Wandesborough 
 Castle, though, to be sure, it's afternoon now ! Lord Wandes- 
 borough will be delighted to see us. He'll let us have a turn 
 at his partridges, and give us a cold cdllation with Roriz port 
 and October ale afterwards ! " 
 
 "So he would, beyond a doubt, Maurice," cried Wright, 
 "and he'd stand champagne twice round into the bargain. But 
 he'd hardly allow his partridges to be shot in the month of 
 August!" 
 
 " And unluckily his lordship is in Italy, and won't return 
 before the month of October," added Winburne, " and there'll 
 hardly be time to write and tell him we are coming. But we 
 really might drive to Hawley Manor, and call on the old lady 
 there. Her peaches and nectarines are not to be despised, and 
 they'll be just at their best now." 
 
 " And those early nuts in the Hawley woods are prime 
 articles," added Temple. " They'll be fit to pick now. That 
 is the place for us to go to, if Mrs Thornton will only be so 
 obliging as to lend us the carriage, and order Lawes to drive
 
 8 Who did it ? 
 
 us _though, for the matter of that, I should be willing to drive 
 myself." 
 
 " In that case I am afraid we should hardly get there," said 
 Cressingham. "One of the horses kicks, Cobbe says, and 
 the other is a bolter." 
 
 " Anyway, we shouldn't get admission," added Winburne. 
 " The old lady is ailing a good deal, and won't see any but 
 intimate friends like Captain Gurdon." 
 
 " Oh ! half-a-crown to the butler would set that all right," said 
 Temple. " He'd show us in, I'd wager ; and the old lady 
 would forgive him when she found what pleasant visitors 
 she'd got" 
 
 " And where would ye get the half-crown from, my boy," 
 interposed O'Toole. "Turn out your pockets and let us see it." 
 
 There was a general laugh,'as Temple was notorious for always 
 having empty pockets. The allowance given him was in the 
 first instance scanty, and it was always exhausted at the 
 beginning of every half-year in paying off the debts incurred 
 in the last. Temple bore the laugh good-humouredly. 
 " Never you mind," he said, " I could find half-a-crown easily 
 enough if I wanted it." 
 
 " Could ye, Charlie ? " inquired O'Toole. " Then if I were 
 you, I would find it. What's more, I'd give ye something 
 handsome, if ye'd teach me that same trick of finding half- 
 crowns, when ye want them ! By the powers, I find it easy 
 enough to get rid of my money, but as to finding it again that's 
 another matter. Where would I look for it, I wonder ? " 
 
 " It's all his gammon," said Dilke crossly. " He doesn't 
 expect you to believe it. At least, he must be a fool if 
 he does."
 
 Tlie Wager. 9 
 
 "I don't care whether you believe it or not, Dilke," 
 exclaimed Temple ; " but however empty my purse may be 
 at this moment, I could produce half-a-crown this very evening, 
 if I chose." 
 
 " Ye could ? " repeated the Irishman. " Ah ! I see, ye'd 
 borrow it of someone Wilkes or Hepburn, or maybe Tom 
 Cobbe." 
 
 There was another laugh. 
 
 " I think I see old Hepburn lending anyone half-a-crown," 
 said Winburne. "Wouldn't he be in a wax, if anyone were to 
 ask him." 
 
 "And particularly if Charlie asked him," added Hibbert, 
 " whom he is always pitching into." 
 
 " And as for Wilkes," said Wright, " he hasn't half-a-crown 
 in the world to lend to anybody. You must try Tom Cobbe, 
 Charlie, he is your best chance. I am sure he ought to have 
 half-crowns enough, considering what he gets out of the 
 fellows." 
 
 " Tom Cobbe won't have anything to say to Charlie after 
 that trick he played him last half," remarked Winburne. 
 
 "What, when he electrified the handle of the door, you 
 mean ? " said Lander. " I heard something about that. But 
 I was in the sick house at the time, and never knew the rights 
 of it. Tell us exactly what happened." 
 
 " Why, Doctor Macrae, one of the swells from Cambridge, 
 had been giving a course of lectures on Galvanism, you know, 
 to the fellows, and had left the battery in the large cupboard 
 in the dining-hall. Charlie managed to get it upstairs 
 into his bedroom. When Tom came with Wilkes to take 
 away the candle at nine o'clock, Charlie had connected the
 
 io Who did tt? 
 
 wires with the handle and lock of the door, and put on the bat- 
 tery so sharp, that old Cobbe roared out he was murdered, 
 and tumbled head-over-heels upon Wilkes, who was coming up 
 the stairs after him." 
 
 " That must have been a sight to see," remarked Lander. 
 " Wasn't there an awful row ? " 
 
 " Oh ! Wilkes is a good-natured fellow, you know. And so 
 is old Tom, for the matter of that, when he has had his say. 
 And besides Charlie contrived to palaver Wilkes " 
 
 " You mistake," interposed Temple. " I didn't palaver any- 
 body. I told Mr Wilkes that I was so greatly interested in Dr 
 Macrae's experiments, that I lost sight of all other considera- 
 tions, in my endeavour to ascertain their correctness " 
 
 " Aye, and you had forgotten that Cobbe might possibly be 
 injured, I remember," supplemented Winburne. 
 
 " Cobbe !" repeated Temple. " Who is Cobbe, that anybody 
 should think about him, when the interests of science are at 
 stake ? " 
 
 " I see," said Wright. " But I doubt whether Tom himself 
 could be induced to take that view of the matter. I fear he 
 would not lend you the half-crown, Charlie, after all." 
 
 " I had no idea of borrowing of Cobbe, or of anyone else," 
 observed Temple. 
 
 "Then I suppose you'd pawn your watch," suggested 
 Wright " Of course you could raise money upon that." 
 
 " Many thanks, George ; but, as I have never had any 
 dealings with pawnbrokers, I don't propose to begin now." 
 
 "Then how do ye mean to do it, my lad?" exclaimed 
 O'Toole, impatiently. " You're not going to take to the 
 high-road and rob people of their money, I suppose, or 
 maybe pick their pockets in a crowd ? "
 
 The Wager. II 
 
 "Never you mind how, Paddy," retorted Temple. "I could 
 do it if I chose. That is all I say." 
 
 "And that isn't much," sneered Dilke. "A fellow may 
 say that he can do anything. He may say he can travel to the 
 moon, or jump over St Peter's Church. But saying is one 
 thing and doing is another." 
 
 " True for you," shouted the Irishman. " Didn't my Aunt 
 Biddy, the old neger didn't she say to me last Christmas, 
 ' Maurice, my boy, I'll give ye a five-pound note if ye'll bring 
 home a prize ; ' and when I showed her the knife that I had 
 won in the three-legged race last half, didn't the old catamaran 
 say she didn't mean that sort of prize at all, at all, and 
 wouldn't give me so much as His Majesty's likeness in copper. 
 ' 'Tis a prize I meant for which ye'd have to work,' says she. 
 ' Is it work you mean ? ' says I, ' and if ye'd been there, ye'd 
 have seen me and Jerry Taunton, too, working like two horses 
 ploughing a bog ! If it's work ye want, 'tis a ten-pound note 
 I ought to have, and not a five ! ' But the old skin-flint 
 wouldn't listen to reason, bad luck to her for it ! " 
 
 "That's the way she got out of it, was it?" observed Dilke, 
 when the mirth of the party at this narrative had somewhat 
 subsided. " I suppose Temple means to get out of his pro- 
 mise much in the same sort of way." 
 
 " Charlie didn't promise anything," remarked Wright 
 
 " Certainly not," returned Dilke. " He only gave his word." 
 
 " And you'll find that my word is as good as my bond," 
 cried Temple, indignantly. 
 
 " Just about," retorted Dilke, in the same tone as before. 
 
 Temple was going to answer him more angrily still, when 
 Cressingham, the fourth boy in the school, interposed. He
 
 12 Who did it? 
 
 had been talking apart to his friend Burton, and had caught 
 only imperfectly what was passing. But the loud voices and 
 angry words of the disputants now attracted his attention. He 
 was known in the school as a peacemaker, and he hastened 
 now to prevent what threatened to be a serious quarrel. 
 
 " Come," he said, " don't let's have a row ; more particu- 
 larly as there doesn't appear to me to be anything to quarrel 
 about. It's all a matter of opinion. Temple here thinks that 
 he can raise half-a-crown, by some means or other, before 
 supper-time. Well ! he has a right to think that, and it 
 doesn't hurt anybody. And here's Dilke too he thinks 
 Temple couldn't raise it Well ! I suppose he may think that 
 too without offence." 
 
 "With all my heart," said Temple, good-humouredly. 
 " Dilke is welcome to think what he likes, so far as I am 
 concerned." 
 
 The matter would have ended at this point, but Dilke's 
 ill-temper would not let him be quiet. He thought he had 
 got the better of Temple, and he was not disposed to forego 
 his advantage. 
 
 " A fellow has a right, no doubt, to think what he likes," he 
 said, " but I don't know that he has any right to say what he 
 likes, unless he can make it good. Temple said, that though 
 he hadn't any money in his pocket now, he could contrive to 
 get half-a-crown between this and supper-time without borrow- 
 ing it, or selling, or pawning anything in exchange for it. 
 That, I think, is one of the random assertions he is always 
 making. And I challenge him to make it good if he can. I 
 don't think he ought to be allowed to get out of it by simply 
 saying that it is a matter of opinion."
 
 The Wager. 1 3 
 
 " Very well, I will make it good," said Temple. " If you 
 choose to call upon me at supper-time, Dilke, I'll either pro- 
 duce the half-crown or beg your pardon. If I do produce it, 
 I shall expect you to beg mine." 
 
 " There, there, that will do at all events," said Burton, 
 observing that Dilke was going to reply. " I agree with Cres- 
 singham ; we have had too much of this already. And while 
 we have been talking, the sky has been clearing, and the sun 
 is coming out. We are going to have a fine afternoon 
 after all." 
 
 " So we are," shouted O'Toole. " Didn't I tell ye so now ? 
 Here he comes, good-luck to him, as round as my hat ! Tom, 
 ye villain, come and open the gate. " We'll all of us be off 
 to the shore, and have a sail or a row." 
 
 "You won't have either one or the other, Maurice," 
 remarked Wright. " Old Gunn is up here, busy in clearing 
 out the great bath. He chose to-day, because he thought it 
 wasn't going to clear, and therefore none of us would want to 
 go out." 
 
 " Well ! where's Jem Gunn, then ? " asked Cressingham. 
 " He will do as well." 
 
 " Jem's gone up to London about the salvage of a ship that 
 was wrecked three weeks ago. Without one or other of them, 
 you know, we are never allowed to go out." 
 
 " That's a bother," said O'Toole ; " but never, mind. We'll 
 have a game of rounders or a paper-chase on the sands. The 
 rain will have flooded the lanes, but it can't hurt the 
 sand." 
 
 " Hurrah ! Maurice," shouted several voices, " we'll be off 
 at once. And here comes Tom Cobbe to open the gate.
 
 14 W /to did it? 
 
 Charlie, you'll come with us, won't you," added Wright, call- 
 ing after Temple, who was walking off towards the house. 
 . " I wish I could with all my heart," was the answer, " but I 
 am sorry to say I can't. That beast Hepburn gave me a 
 hundred lines of Virgil to write out this morning, because he 
 said I wasn't attending." 
 
 " A hundred lines," repeated Wright. " Why didn't you do 
 'em while the rain was coming down ? That would have been 
 just the time for doing an imposition, if one must do one." 
 
 " It was very stupid," assented Temple. " If I had thought 
 there had been any chance of its clearing up, I would have 
 set to work at it at once. But it can't be helped now. If 
 you'll go down to the beach, I'll follow you as soon as I can. 
 There is some of it done, and I daresay I shant be more than 
 half-an-hour. You had better start, for it will be no use wait- 
 ing for me." * 
 
 " Not the least in life," assented O'Toole. "Now then, Tom, 
 ye neger, why don't ye open the gate ; what are ye waiting for 
 this half hour?" 
 
 " If you'll be pleased to listen to what a man has to say, 
 Mr O'Toole," said Cobbe, austerely, "it would be better 
 manners ; which as I heard the Doctor say, you was sent here 
 to acquire." 
 
 There was a peal of merriment, for the remark in question 
 was a favourite one of the Doctor's, when O'Toole got into 
 one of his frequent scrapes. 
 
 " Bravo ! Tom," said Temple, " you had him there. Well ! 
 let's hear what it is you have to say." 
 
 " I've a message from Mr Wilkes, Mr Temple," replied 
 Tom, " or, to speak more correct, from Captain Gurdon and
 
 The Wager. 15 
 
 Mr Wilkes. They told me to say that they were going to 
 walk over to Hawley Manor this afternoon, and any of the 
 young gentlemen, as belong to the first and second classes, 
 was welcome to go with them, if so be," added Cobbe with a 
 glance at O'Toole, " if so be they would behave themselves 
 conformable." 
 
 " Draw it mild, Tom," exclaimed Wright ; " did Captain 
 Gurdon or Mr Wilkes tell you to say that ? " 
 
 " Maybe they did, Mr Wright," returned Tom sedately, " and 
 maybe I added it of my own sense of propriety ;" and under 
 cover of the general laugh which followed this remark, he 
 retired to his own domain. 
 
 His announcement caused general satisfaction. Hawley 
 Manor, which lay at a distance of three miles or so, was the 
 property of Miss Hawley, a lady of middle age, and the 
 daughter of one Captain Hawley, who had served with Cap- 
 tain Gurdon, Mrs Thornton's brother, under Jervis and Howe. 
 Miss Hawley regarded her father's old messmate with so much 
 esteem, that he was not only always himself an acceptable visitor 
 at the Manor, but was allowed occasionally to bring a party 
 of the Holmvvood boys with him, who were welcomed for his 
 sake, and regaled after a fashion extremely agreeable to 
 school-boys. Captain Gurdon's invitation was conveyed into 
 the school-room to Graves and his companions, who straight- 
 way broke off their game in mid-rubber, and prepared to join 
 the party ; from which it soon appeared that none of the first 
 or second class would be absent, always excepting the ill- 
 starred Temple. 
 
 " I say, Charlie, this is unlucky," said Wright. "Only fancy 
 your missing this. You had better come, and let the imposi-
 
 1 6 Who did it? 
 
 tion be hanged. I've no doubt the old lady will give us no 
 end of a blow-out. There'll be her grapes and apricots and 
 peaches. And there'll be the nuts too - 
 
 " Aye, if the gipsies haven't been before-hand with you," 
 said Temple. 
 
 " Gipsies," repeated Winburne ; " what gipsies ? There 
 aren't any about in this neighbourhood, are there ? " 
 
 " Not now," said Burton. " There was a gipsy encamp- 
 ment some weeks ago on Gossard's Heath somewhere, so old 
 Gunn told us the other day. But they are all gone, I believe." 
 
 " How do you know they are all gone ? " asked Temple. 
 "There may be some left. But as for accompanying you, 
 George, I am afraid it is not to be thought of. Hepburn 
 would make no end of row if I went out before I had done 
 the imposition." 
 
 " There'll be plenty of time to do it after we come back," 
 said Wright, " and Hepburn can't call for it before supper- 
 time. How could he know that you hadn't done it before you 
 started." 
 
 " He'd be safe to ask the question," said Temple, " when he 
 heard where we had been. No ! it can't be helped, and after 
 all it's my own fault." 
 
 He retired into the school-room, just as Captain Gurdon 
 and Mr Wilkes issued from the Doctor's front door ; and the 
 whole party set off, with all the eagerness of school-boys, on 
 their expedition.
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 THE GIPSY GIRL. 
 
 IT wanted scarcely five minutes to supper-time when the boys 
 returned from their excursion. Evening school and prayers 
 followed immediately afterwards. Temple and his friends had 
 no opportunity of conversing together until prayers were over. 
 But there intervened half-an-hour, and sometimes three-quarters, 
 between prayers and the time when the usher, accompanied 
 by the school servant, went round to remove the lights from 
 the boys' bed-rooms. This was a favourite interval for the 
 head boys to get together and have a gossip, or play a game 
 of some kind in their studies. On the west side of Holmwood 
 Priory which was a very ancient building, and had once been 
 a Convent of Greyfriars, there were still the remains of an old 
 cloister, and four small rooms, believed to have been the cells 
 of the monks. They were not above six feet square each ; but 
 the narrow slips which had once formed the windows, had been 
 considerably enlarged in size, and in winter the rooms were 
 warmed by hot-water pipes, so that they formed four very com- 
 fortable studies for the four head boys. There was a rule that 
 not more than three boys should be allowed in any of them at 
 the same time. This was generally thought to have been
 
 1 8 Wlwdidit? 
 
 made for the purpose of preventing a rubber of whist 
 being played in them, though the reader may judge from the 
 last chapter what prospect there was of this regulation being 
 observed. A simpler reason, however, was that three persons 
 were as many as could possibly occupy the rooms without 
 rendering them intolerably close. 
 
 No sooner were prayers over than Temple, laying hands on 
 his two cronies, Wright and Winburne, invited them to a half- 
 hour's chat in his study. They agreed, nothing loth, being 
 anxious to discuss the occurrences of the afternoon. 
 
 " Well, Charlie," said Wright, as they took the three seats 
 wherewith the room was garnished, to wit a broken arm-chair, 
 a ditto footstool, and a box turned bottom-upwards " Well, 
 Charlie, you polished off Dilke at supper in grand style I 
 must say that ! Where you got the half-crown from, it is be- 
 yond me to conjecture. But you did get it, and that was 
 everything. Dilke thought he had got it all his own way. I 
 never saw a fellow's face fall so, as his did, when you brought 
 out the half-crown ! " 
 
 " Yes," said Winburne, " I overheard him and Dick Rawes 
 talking about it, as we came home from the Manor. ' Temple 
 will be done this time,' said Rawes. ' This walk over here 
 will floor him. I fancy he meant to go down to Colonel 
 Wilder's, and get the half-crown out of Harry Wilder.' ' Oh, he 
 said, he didn't mean to borrow it of any one,' says Dilke. 
 ' No,' says Rawes, ' but he might ask Harry to give it to him, 
 or Harry might have owed him a half-crown, perhaps. But 
 this going over to Mother Hawley's has bowled him out. 
 Tom locked the gate when we went out, and Temple couldn't 
 get out until ' ' A fellow may climb the wall of the outer
 
 The Gipsy Girl. 19 
 
 court,' again interrupts Dilke. 'I know that,' says Rawes, 
 ' but he couldn't get back again. That has been tried again 
 and again, and it is quite impossible. Cobbe might let him 
 out, to be sure ; but he's safe not to do that. He owes Temple 
 one, and he'll pay him out. No, Master Charlie will be a close 
 prisoner till we get back. I must say I shall enjoy seeing his 
 face, when he has to beg your pardon, Jem.' " 
 
 "Just as we enjoyed seeing Dilke's face when he had to 
 beg yours, Charlie," remarked Wright. "Well, where you got 
 the half-crown from, I can't imagine, and I suppose it is no 
 use asking." 
 
 Temple shook his head gravely. " There are secrets which 
 must not be revealed, George," he said. " But come, I want 
 to hear what you did to-day. I hope you had lots of fun. 
 You were out long enough at all events. I thought you were 
 never coming back ! " 
 
 "Yes, I was so sorry that you missed it, Charlie," said 
 Winburne. " When we came back and found you moping 
 over that book in a corner of the school-room, I was quite 
 sorry for you. It was tip-top fun, I assure you ! Couldn't have 
 been better if we had laid it all out a week before." 
 
 " What did you do ? " asked Temple. 
 
 " Did ? " answered Wright. " First of all, Wilkes and 
 Gurdon went up to the house. We stopped at the shrubbery 
 gate, presently down comes the butler with a message. 
 ' Miss Hawley wasn't well. She had heard some news that 
 had upset her.' Somebody or other we couldn't quite make 
 out who had been hurt, or was dangerously ill, or something. 
 Anyhow, Miss Hawley couldn't see anyone except Captain 
 Gurdon, and him only for a few minutes. But we were all
 
 20 Who did it f 
 
 welcome to go into the woods and pick any ripe nuts we could 
 find, and at five o'clock we were to go up to the house and 
 there would be luncheon for us luncheon he called it, though 
 it was rather a late one." 
 
 " That didn't signify much," said Temple. " Well done, 
 Mother Hawley. I must say she's a worthy old lady! 
 Were the nuts good ? " 
 
 " The nuts were nothing to the fruit and cake, not to speak 
 of the negus," said Winburne, licking his lips. 
 
 " I don't know that," said Wright. " I never ate better nuts 
 than those in the south corner of the wood, where the trees 
 had had plenty of sun. And there were lots of them, too, 
 more than the whole school could have eaten, if all the fellows 
 had been there." 
 
 "Yes," said Winburne, laughing. "If the gipsies that 
 Charlie was speaking about had been there, no one, at all 
 events, would have guessed it." 
 
 " The gipsies," repeated Temple. " I was only chaffing you 
 when I spoke about them. I guess you didn't see any gipsies 
 about." 
 
 "You're just wrong there, Charlie," said Wright. , "We did 
 fall in with one of them a girl of seventeen or so, I should 
 say. She met us just as we were leaving the wood to go up to 
 the house." 
 
 " Was she good-looking ? " asked Temple. 
 
 "Good-looking ! no, I should think not," returned Wright. 
 " A gaunt, ragged, dirty-looking creature as ever I saw. She 
 had on a red shawl, and a large, limp bonnet, which quite hid 
 her hair, everywhere except in front. A more miserable 
 looking object I never saw."
 
 The Gipsy Gin. 21 
 
 " Indeed," said Temple, " perhaps you didn't notice her 
 very closely." 
 
 " Yes, I did," said Wright, " I took stock of her all over, 
 from the holes in her shoes to the discoloured patch on her 
 shawl." 
 
 "She wanted to tell your fortunes, I suppose," said Temple. 
 
 " For a wonder she did not," said Winburne ; " she came 
 with a long doleful story about her family. Her father had 
 been taken ill at Elmer's End with the fever " 
 
 " A jail fever, I should judge," interpolated Temple. 
 
 " Maybe," said Wright, " but she said it was typhus. Her 
 mother, she told us, had been dead a twelvemonth, and she 
 had three little sisters and two little brothers " 
 
 " Just the regulation story," again observed Temple, " and 
 I suppose there was no one to look after her sick father and 
 small brothers and sisters except herself, and she hadn't any 
 means of getting a livelihood." 
 
 " Well ! you're not far wrong there, Charlie," said Wright. 
 " She had been left behind when the other gipsies went away, 
 because her father wasn't fit to be moved, and now that he 
 was getting well, all she wanted was enough money to enable 
 her to join them. The tribe were encamped, she said, about 
 thirty or forty miles off." 
 
 " Got up first-rate," said Temple. " Were any of you taken 
 in?" 
 
 "Ah ! you didn't hear her," remarked Winburne. "If you had 
 you wouldn't talk in that way. We all pitied her, and felt sure 
 that she spoke the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the 
 truth, as they say at the Assizes. Old Gurdon in particular " 
 
 " What ! was the old Captain as soft as the others ? " cried
 
 22 Who did iff 
 
 Temple. " I should have thought that he would have been up 
 to snuff, anyhow." 
 
 " I tell you, Charlie," cried Winburne, impatiently, " you 
 don't know what you're talking about. I am quite certain that 
 if you had been there, and listened to her story, you would 
 have subscribed along with the others." 
 
 " Aye, Charlie'would have given her the half-crown which he 
 brought out at supper, and allowed Dilke to crow over him, "said 
 Wright. " Anyway if you had refused, you would have been 
 the only one that did. There was a whole pot of money raised. 
 Old Gurdon shelled out half-a-crown, and Wilkes a shilling " 
 
 " I wonder where he got it from," interrupted Temple. 
 
 " I can't say," returned Wright, " but he did give it, and 
 Burton and Graves gave each a shilling, and Cressingham, and 
 Taunton, and Hill, and Lander, and I myself, and ever so 
 many more, sixpence. Even Rawes gave a threepenny-bit, 
 which I didn't think anything in the world would have got 
 out of him ! " 
 
 " Nor I," said Temple, " she must have made out a very 
 deplorable story, indeed. I can just fancy what she would 
 say. ' Oh good, young gentlemen, take pity upon poor people, 
 that haven't anyone to help them. We are dying of starvation, 
 if you could see my dear little brothers and sisters, all skin 
 and bone ' " 
 
 " Hallo ! " exclaimed Wright, starting in astonishment, at 
 the altered tones of his schoolfellow's voice. " Why, to be 
 sure, you don't mean ' 
 
 " There's father took the fever," continued Temple, " and I 
 can't get him no doctor, and no physic ! It's too far for the 
 doctor to come, he says, and Rose, and Betsy, and Susan
 
 The Gipsy Girl. 23 
 
 haven't had no victuals since yesterday morning ; and Tom 
 and Sammy " 
 
 " By Jove, Charlie, that's the girl herself! Why, you don't 
 mean it was you dressed up, to be sure ? " 
 
 " Oh ! gammon," exclaimed Winburne, " that's Charlie's 
 chaff, I can't believe that." 
 
 Temple made no answer, but he put his hand into his 
 pocket and brought out a handful of silver. "There's the 
 half-crown you were talking about, which I brought out at 
 supper," he said, selecting a battered, old coin from the heap. 
 
 " And that's old Gurdon's half-crown ! " exclaimed Win- 
 burne. "I remember it well. It was I who took the hat round. 
 Old Gurdon said it was a battered, old veteran like himself, 
 when he gave it. And there's Burton's shilling with a hole 
 through it, and Jerry Taunton's crooked sixpence, which he 
 said would bring good luck. Well !. Charlie, you are a rare 
 one, I must say that for you ! How in the world did you 
 manage this ? Where did you get the clothes from ? " 
 
 " Oh ! it wasn't difficult to manage," said Temple. " You 
 know old Mother Maggots, don't you ? " 
 
 " What, the old woman that keeps that old rag-shop at the 
 end of Crawley Lane, do you mean ? " asked Wright. 
 
 " Yes, to be sure," said Temple. " She is not a very credit- 
 able acquaintance, but one must not be particular, when one 
 is in difficulties. I went to her house as soon as I had 
 finished my imposition." 
 
 "Yes, but how on earth did you manage to get out?" 
 asked Winburne. " Did Tom forget to lock the gate ? Rawes 
 declared that he saw him do it. But perhaps he was mistaken." 
 
 " Never mind how I got out," said Temple. " I did get
 
 24 Wlu) did it ? 
 
 out and that's enough, and I went straight, as I told you, to 
 Mother Maggots. There we looked out the clothes between 
 us. I don't think I was badly got up." 
 
 " No, indeed," assented Wright. " You would make your 
 fortune as a dresser at the theatre. But, I say, you hadn't a 
 farthing when we went out, I know. How did you manage 
 to pay for the clothes ? " 
 
 " Oh, there are ways and means," said Temple, mysteriously. 
 " I got 'em, that's enough." 
 
 " I suppose she let you have the clothes on credit," said 
 Wright. " Well, that is more, by a good deal, than I should 
 have expected of her. To be sure, I don't suppose the whole 
 lot of clothes would fetch half-a-crown at a rag shop. But I 
 should judge she was in the habit of dealing with people who 
 would cheat their own mothers for sixpence, not to say half-a- 
 crown." 
 
 " I guess your estimate of her is not very far wrong, George," 
 returned Temple. 
 
 " And to be sure," resumed Wright, " she did not lend them 
 on credit after all, for I suppose you changed your clothes at 
 her cottage, and left them with her while you went on your 
 begging expedition. So she had pretty good security." 
 
 " Well, I didn't do that," said Temple. " She would have 
 had rather too good security then. My coat and waistcoat and 
 shoes and the rest were worth something ; and when I came 
 back, I might have found that old dame Maggots had taken 
 them to her uncle's while I was away, and had had their value 
 out in drink. No. I carried away the clothes 1 had got from 
 her in a bundle carried them into Hawley Wood, and made 
 my toilette in the middle of some thick bushes."
 
 The Gipsy Girl. 2$ 
 
 " And you took the rags back to her when you had done 
 with them, I suppose, and paid your shilling?" suggested 
 Wright. 
 
 " No, I didn't. There wasn't time. You see I didn't know 
 that you fellows were going up to the park again. You might 
 have been all just setting out to go home for all I knew, and 
 if I hadn't been in the school-room when you returned, Wilkes 
 would have been down upon me, and reported the matter to 
 Hepburn." 
 
 " And you came back here in those rags ! " exclaimed 
 Winburne. " You don't mean it, to be sure ! " 
 
 "I do though," said Temple. 
 
 " How did you get into the house ? " inquired Wright. 
 " You never came in at the front gate, even if Tom Cobbe had 
 chanced to leave it open." 
 
 "I got in," said Temple. 
 
 " And where did you dress ? " 
 
 " In the back part of the shed," replied Temple. " By good 
 luck no one was about, and it only took a minute or two. 
 The gipsy's rags I stowed away in the bottom of my bureau. 
 I shall take them back to Mother Maggots on the first oppor- 
 tunity, and pay her for the use of them." 
 
 "Well, Charlie, you are a strange article, that's certain," 
 said Wright, "and were not born on a Saturday night. But there 
 is one thing which I think you have overlooked, and that may 
 be rather a serious consideration. What do you mean to do 
 with the money you have collected from old Gurdon, and 
 Wilkes, and Burton, and the others." 
 
 " Oh, I mean to give it back to the fellows, of course,'' 
 rejoined Temple, colouring a little. " You didn't think I 
 meant to keep it, did you ? "
 
 26 Who did it? 
 
 " Not the least bit, Charlie. But has it ever occurred to 
 you that you can't give back the money unless, at the same 
 time, you explain how you came by it. If you give old 
 Gurdon his half-crown, for instance, he'll want to know how 
 the gipsy girl came to give it to you." 
 
 " I should explain the trick," said Temple. " Old Gurdon's 
 too good-natured a fellow to be angry. He would laugh 
 heartily." 
 
 " Very likely, though I'm not sure whether he wouldn't feel 
 bound in honour to tell the Doctor. He's always on honour 
 on these occasions not to allow any of the rules of the school 
 to be broken. But anyway, how about Wilkes ? It's impossible 
 that he, at all events, should wink at the thing." 
 
 " No, I suppose not," assented Temple. " I didn't think 
 of that, I confess. Well ! then I suppose I must put the shil- 
 ling back into Wilkes' desk. I can drop it through the crack 
 by the hinge, and he'll find it there, and think it has fallen 
 out of his purse. As for old Gurdon, it will be easy enough 
 to put the half-crown back into his purse. He always leaves 
 it in his breast-pocket when he takes off his coat to play 
 cricket or fives. As for the other fellows, Burton and the rest, 
 I can give them their money back, of course, and tell them 
 how I got it." 
 
 " Humph ! " said Wright, " I don't know about that. If I 
 were in your place I'd rather that the old Captain, or the 
 Doctor, or Wilkes, or even Hepburn himself, knew what had 
 happened, than Rawes and Dilke and their friends." 
 
 " Their friends. What ! Graves and Taunton, do you 
 mean ? " asked Temple. 
 
 "No," said Wright. " Taunton is as good-natured a fellow as
 
 The Gipsy Girl. 27 
 
 any in the school, though he does belong to that set ; and 
 Graves, though he's a sulky and disagreeable beast, for whom 
 I entertain a very particular dislike he wouldn't do anything 
 underhand. No, I am speaking of young Payne, and Owen, 
 and Burt, and one or two others, lower down in the school, 
 who are always ready to do anything mean that Dilke and 
 Rawes want to have done. I think it quite as likely as not, 
 that if they knew what you had been up to, they'd contrive in 
 some underhand way to let Hepburn know of it, 'and Hepburn 
 wouldn't be likely to let you off, as you know pretty well." 
 
 " As I know very well," assented Temple. " He has never 
 forgiven me for sticking pins into his false calves, the first half 
 I was here." 
 
 " Did you do that, Charlie ? " asked Winburne. " I never 
 heard of that But you were here a year or two before 
 me." 
 
 "Yes, I did," said Temple. " Hepburn[is very proud of his 
 legs, you know, especially when he turns out in black knees 
 and tights of an evening at a party. It used to be the common 
 talk in the school, that he wore false calves, but no one knew 
 whether it was true or not. The Doctor gave a ball at the 
 end of my first half, as I believe he had done once or twice 
 before, and invited [all the neighbourhood. I was passing by 
 Hepburn's bedroom, and saw his clothes laid out ready for 
 him to dress. I looked in and saw the stockings with the false 
 calves, sure enough. I went and borrowed half a dozen large 
 pins of Mother Edwards black pins, with large knobs at the 
 ends, and I stuck three in to each calf. Old Hepburn never 
 found it out, until the evening was half over. He had been 
 dancing away no end, and thought the people were admiring
 
 28 Who did it ? 
 
 his legs. So they were, to be sure, but not for the reason he 
 supposed. When he did find it out, luckily for me I had gone 
 with the other juniors to bed, and went home by the early 
 coach next morning, long before he was up. He couldn't very 
 well take the matter up after the holidays, and I judge he 
 didn't think it wise to write to my mother about it, seeing 
 that it would be only making himself all the more ridiculous. 
 I am told he was furious when he first found it out, and 
 threatened all sorts of things. He didn't say much to me about it, 
 but I've had good reason to know that he has never forgotten 
 it. No, it wouldn't do to let him know about this business, 
 certainly. But I can't think that Dilke and Rawes would be 
 mean enough to carry tales of this kind to Hepburn or any 
 of the masters." 
 
 " You can't ? " repeated Wright. " Well, then, I'll tell you 
 what happened two years ago, when Black was here. You 
 remember ' Coal Black,' Charlie ? " 
 
 " Yes, to be sure," replied Temple, " he was so called be- 
 cause he used to sit smoking in the coal-hole." 
 
 " Exactly. Dilke and Rawes hated him like poison, because 
 Black had prevented them from licking one of his friends. 
 Rawes had wanted Tommy Gill to swear to some lie or other ; 
 and because Tommy wouldn't, Rawes began thrashing him 
 savagely, while Dilke held him. Black interfered. He wasn't 
 bigger than either Rawes or Dilke, but he had twice their 
 pluck. They durstn't fight him, but they resolved to pay him 
 out somehow or other. And they did manage it, the brutes 
 cunningly enough ! " 
 
 " I never heard this," said Temple. 
 
 " No," said Wright, " it was only known to one or two
 
 The Gipsy Girl. 29 
 
 indeed, I don't think it was known fully to anyone but me, 
 and I had my reasons for holding my tongue about it. But 
 I'll tell you how they managed it. Black was in the habit of 
 sitting in the old coal-hole, as you said just now. The coal- 
 hole in the wood-yard is always empty during the summer. 
 Ashes and rubbish are thrown there, you know." 
 
 " Yes, the cellar is not filled till the autumn. No one had 
 occasion to go in there," returned Temple. " That's why 
 Black used to smoke there, wasn't it ? " 
 
 " Yes, to be sure," said Wright. " Well, one day, Hepburn 
 walks straight into this yard " 
 
 " And caught Black smoking, eh ? " suggested Temple. 
 
 " Well, no, by good luck he didn't. Black had finished 
 his pipe, and put it into his pocket, not a minute before. 
 Hepburn was just too late." 
 
 "But what had Rawes and Dilke to do with that?" in- 
 quired Temple. 
 
 " They had everything to do with it," said Wright. " You 
 see Hepburn had lost a card case, and was inquiring of all 
 the fellows if anyone had seen it. Now, Rawes and Dilke 
 did know where the card case was, for they had chanced to 
 pick it up half an hour before. I happened to see them do it, 
 though they didn't see me. But instead of giving it to Hep- 
 burn, they swore they had seen it lying in the ash heap in the 
 coal-shed ; and so, to be sure, they had, for they had put it there 
 themselves. Hepburn went straight to the place, as they had 
 expected ; and poor old Black only just escaped by the skin 
 of his teeth, as they say. I said nothing about it, because I 
 couldn't prove my story, and those two fellows would have 
 backed one another up through thick and thin. But I have
 
 30 Who did it ? 
 
 never had any opinion of Dilke, or of Rawes either, since that 
 day." 
 
 " No," said Winburne ; " and you are not singular in the 
 view you take of them. But how is Charlie to get out of this 
 mess? I quite agree with him that he can't keep this money 
 come what may, he can't do that. Well, he can put 
 Captain Gurdon's half-crown back into his purse and Wilkes's 
 shilling into his desk, but he can't put back all the shillings, 
 and sixpences, and silver threepences which the fellows 
 subscribed into their purses or pockets either. And I think 
 you are right in saying that it wouldn't be safe for him to tell 
 them all about it. I don't see my way, I confess. We are 
 non-plussed here ! " 
 
 There was silence for a minute or two, and then Wright 
 suddenly exclaimed, "I have it Charlie. You must dress 
 yourself in your gipsy's clothes again, and bring all the 
 money back. You must write a letter to Captain Gurdon, 
 saying that some charitable gentleman has given you a 
 lot of money, and you don't think, therefore, you ought to 
 take the young gentlemen's contributions, or some palaver of 
 that sort, and you can enclose all the cash in the letter." 
 
 " Won't that sound very strange, George ? " asked Temple. 
 
 " Perhaps it may, " returned Wright, " but I can't think of 
 anything better. There must be some reason given for the 
 return of the money, and it will be very difficult to give 
 one which would not seem strange. And, remember, when 
 you have once got clear of the premises, you can change your 
 clothes in one of the sheds near the house ; and they may 
 make any search they like after the gipsy girl, but they won't 
 find her."
 
 The Gipsy Girl. 31 
 
 " No," said Winburne, " and I don't see why they should 
 search after her, or what they could bring up against her. 
 They couldn't make out that she was a rogue. Rogues are 
 not in the habit of giving people their money back." 
 
 " That is true," assented Temple. " Well, I suppose if 
 nothing better can be thought of, I must do that. What day 
 will be the best for trying it ? " 
 
 " We mustn't lose time," said Winburne. " Let me see, to- 
 day is Wednesday. To-morrow is a school-day, and we are 
 not allowed to go beyond the play-ground. But Friday is a 
 half-holiday, and there will be the playtime from two to six, as 
 usual. Better say Friday, Charlie." 
 
 " It had better not be Friday," urged Wright. " There is 
 going to be a diving match between Maurice and Jerry Taun- 
 ton at three o'clock that day, and I want particularly to see 
 Maurice dive. But I shouldn't like to miss seeing you again 
 in your gipsy dress, Charlie, nor, I fancy, would Jack 
 either." 
 
 " I wouldn't miss it for a five pound note, if any one were 
 to offer it to me," said Winburne ; " and besides, I expect 
 Charlie will want our help. Put it off till Saturday, I vote. 
 There is the two hours' play-time on that day, you know. That 
 will do every bit as well." 
 
 " Very well. Saturday be it then," said Temple. "And now 
 we must be off to bed, or Wilkes may catch us out of our rooms. 
 Good night, George ; good night, Jack." 
 
 " Good night, gipsy," responded Wright, laughing. And 
 the boys went upstairs to their rooms.
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 AX ADVENTURE. 
 
 " Do you mean to go down to see this diving match ? " asked 
 Cressingham of his friend Burton, as they left the school-room, 
 on the Friday following the expedition to Hawley Manor. 
 " It seems to excite a good deal of interest among the fellows, 
 but I don't seem to care much about it ? " 
 
 " Nor I," replied Burton. " Taunton and Maurice are both 
 of them good divers, no doubt. But when one has seen that 
 kind of thing once, one has seen all there is to see ; and the 
 day is too fine to be used up in that way." 
 
 " Suppose we take the Betsy Jane then, and go to Hard- 
 man's Cove for a bathe. It will be just the afternoon for it. 
 What do you say, Clem ? " 
 
 " It was just what I had in my mind, Fred. The day is 
 delicicusly warm, and Hardman's Cove is my favourite bath- 
 ing place. And we can take the Betsy, I have no doubt. 
 Old Gunn finished the bath yesterday, and will be able to go 
 with us." 
 
 " Done with you, then," cried Cressingham. " We'll be off 
 at once then, before any one engages the Betsy Jane. We'll 
 take old Nep with us. He's been tied up during all this rainy
 
 An Adventure. 33 
 
 weather, and Mrs Thornton asked me to take him for a 
 run/' 
 
 " All right," said Burton. " I'll go and fetch the towels, if 
 you'll untie him." 
 
 The boys set out for Gunn's cottage ; Nep bounding before 
 them, overjoyed at his recovered freedom. He was a splendid 
 animal, a Spanish blood-hound, and had been brought when a 
 puppy from Cuba, by Captain Gurdon. The Captain was 
 fond of telling the boys how the animal had come into his 
 possession. He had been staying at the house of a Spanish 
 planter, during one of the insurrections of the negroes, which 
 at that time were common enough in the island. Senor 
 Menotti had been besieged in his own house by the blacks, 
 and had only beaten them off by the help of Captain Gurdon 
 and some of his officers, who by good fortune were guests in 
 the house at the same time. The Captain had contrived to 
 send a message by a slave boy to his own ship, which was 
 lying in a small bay at a few miles distance. The number of 
 the negroes, as well as their ferocity, was overpowering. The 
 house was like most of the West Indian houses, so constructed 
 as to render it very difficult to defend it against an attack. 
 The blacks soon forced an entrance, and drove the inmates 
 from one storey to another, until they had to take refuge on 
 the roof. Finding it difficult to dislodge them from thence, 
 the assailants were on the point of setting fire to the house, 
 when a volley of musketry stopped them. A strong party from 
 the Neptune, Captain Gurdon's ship, had arrived in the very 
 nick of time. Senor Menotti was profuse in his thanks, and 
 overwhelmed his deliverers with gifts. Captain Gurdon would 
 accept nothing but a blood-hound puppy, which had greatly
 
 34 Wlio did it ? 
 
 taken his fancy, to which he gave the name of " Neptune," in 
 memory of the occasion. The animal was one of tremendous 
 power, but as is often the case, so perfectly gentle and docile, 
 that not even the most timid boys in the school were afraid to 
 play with it. It was of course a great favourite, but no one, 
 unless with special permission, was allowed to take it out 
 with them. 
 
 Burton and his companion soon reached old Gunn's cottage, 
 but here a disappointment awaited them. The old man was 
 sitting in an arm-chair by the fireside, but he did not get up to 
 greet them. 
 
 " Want to go out in the Betsy, do you, Mr Burton ? " he 
 said. " I'm afear'd I can't go with you. I've got the plum- 
 bago so bad this morning, that I feel as if I was broke in half. 
 'Spect I caught it in cleaning out that bath in the rain last 
 Wednesday. I scarcely think I could creep down as far as the 
 beach, but I'll try if you wishes it." 
 
 " You mustn't think of that, John," said Burton. " It's a 
 bore, but it can't be helped. We must put it off, that's all. 
 You'll be right again by Wednesday, I make no doubt. The 
 weather seems likely to last, and we can go out then." 
 
 " You can go now, sir, if you like. The Betsy's all right. 
 She has her sails and oars aboard, and she's all but afloat." 
 
 " Ah ! we wanted to go to Hardman's Cove. But we 
 mustn't do that without you or James. Hasn't Jim come 
 back?" 
 
 "No, they's keeping him up in London, one day after 
 another. He was to have been back last Wednesday, so 
 he wrote me word ; but he ain't come yet." 
 
 " We can't go then, that's certain," said Burton.
 
 An Adventure. 35 
 
 "Can't go to Hardman's Cove," said Cressingham ; "but 
 we may go and sail about in the harbour. That will be better 
 than nothing. Don't you think so ? " 
 
 " Yes, if you like it," answered Burton. " We can sail up 
 and down from the lighthouse to Grimes's cottage, and the 
 wind will just suit. Come along and we'll get the boat off. 
 Stop, though, we mustn't take Nep. We are not allowed to 
 take him in the boat, unless Gunn or Jim are with us. We 
 must shut him in your cottage until we are gone, and then let 
 him run home." 
 
 They took leave of the old man and went down to the 
 beach. Here they pushed off the Betsy Jane, and getting 
 aboard, hoisted the sail, and went away with a slanting wind 
 towards the mouth of the harbour. It was not so pleasant an 
 excursion as the one they had planned, but it was very enjoy- 
 able nevertheless. There was a warm sun, a pleasant breeze, 
 and a very lovely landscape around them. On the seaward side 
 lay a range of high limestone rocks, with clefts here and there, 
 through which the deep blue of the sea was visible. To land- 
 ward, the fishermen's cottages were grouped in picturesque 
 confusion round the little early English church, with the 
 narrow streets of Walescliff proper stretching up the hill 
 beyond. At a short distance the grey walls and heavy 
 chimneys of Holmwood Priory presented themselves, half 
 hidden in the wood, by which they were environed. 
 
 The Priory was a very ancient building, once a religious 
 house, as its name implied. It had passed through many hands, 
 and had fallen gradually into decay. Some forty years before, 
 it had been bought and converted to its present use by 
 Doctor Thornton's father. At the entrance of the harbour
 
 36 Who did it ? 
 
 appeared the " Lighthouse Rock," a huge mass of limestone, 
 surmounted by the lighthouse, which marked the entrance 
 into the rather dangerous harbour of Walescliff. Beyond, 
 for miles, extended a lofty range of almost perpendicular cliffs, 
 and in the far distance, the outline of Curlew Island, with the 
 roof of the convict prison, situated upon it, sparkling in the 
 sun. 
 
 " A glorious day isn't it, Clem ? " said Cressingham. " A 
 bathe in the Cove would have been quite perfect What 
 possessed old Gunn to have lumbago to-day of all days in the 
 year!" 
 
 " I wasn't thinking of the bathe so much, as of the last time 
 I was there. I went with Jack Thorn and poor old George 
 Alford. It was just before they both left." 
 
 "Ay, George was as good a fellow as ever lived," said 
 Cressingham. " I wasn't as thick with him as you were, Clem, 
 but I don't think I ever liked a fellow better. And Jack, too, 
 was a good-natured fellow, if he hadn't been half mad. They 
 say he might have had the Manor after Mother Hawley's 
 death, if he hadn't put her back up." 
 
 " It was with the old Squire he quarrelled, not with Mother 
 Hawley," said Burton. "After that last row old Hawley 
 settled a hundred and fifty upon him for his life, and then cut 
 him out of his will, and swore he'd never see his face again ; 
 and he didn't either." 
 
 " Didn't old Hawley leave the money after Jack's death, to 
 be given as a prize or something to the fellows here ? " asked 
 Cressingham. " I've heard such a story, though it doesn't 
 seem very likely." 
 
 " It's true, though," said Burton. " Mr Knyvett told my
 
 An Adventure, 37 
 
 aunt so. He's her solicitor, you know. I know exactly how 
 it happened. Old Thornton went over to remonstrate with 
 the Squire, and ask him to give Jack another chance. He's 
 good-natured enough, you know, is the Doctor. Old Hawley 
 wouldn't have it ; but he was pleased with Thornton never- 
 theless. 'You're a good-natured fellow, anyway,' said the 
 Squire, ' and I'll tell you what, I'll leave the money after this 
 young scamp's death, to be given as a prize to your boys. 
 It's a hundred and fifty pounds a-year, you know that'll be 
 fifty pounds a-year for three years, to your head scholar every 
 year. It'll be the making of your school, Thornton.' " 
 
 " It may be the making of the school, forty or fifty years 
 hence," observed Cressingham, " but I don't see that it's likely 
 to benefit the Doctor much, seeing that he's old enough to be 
 Jack's grandfather almost." 
 
 " That's what my aunt said," rejoined Burton. " But 
 Knyvett didn't agree with her. 'Young Thorn's with his 
 regiment,' he said, 'fighting Soult in the Peninsula. He's 
 as likely as not to be knocked on the head any day.' " 
 
 "Well, he hasn't been," said Cressingham. "He went 
 through the Peninsula without a scratch, and though he got 
 a wound at Waterloo, it wasn't serious." 
 
 " I'm not sure of that," said Burton. " Didn't you hear 
 the other day, when we were over at the Manor, something 
 about a relation of Miss Hawley's who was ill ? " 
 
 " Yes," said Cressingham ; " but I didn't hear that it was 
 Jack Thorn." 
 
 " Old Hicks didn't say who it was, but he said something 
 about an old wound, and I had a sort of fancy that it might 
 be Jack he was speaking of. But I say, Fred, we have passed 
 the lighthouse rock, we must go about again."
 
 38 Who did it ? 
 
 "So we have," assented Cressingham. "I was thinking 
 about Jack Thorn, and wasn't looking out. Take in the sail, 
 Clem. I'll get out the oars. We had better row back to 
 Grimes's." 
 
 Burton complied, and began lowering the sail, when he 
 suddenly stopped. " Hold hard there," he said, " do you 
 see those two fellows out there on the Quoits ? They are 
 hailing us, aren't they ? " 
 
 Cressingham looked round. At the distance of a few 
 hundred yards, there was a group of five rocks, bearing a rude 
 resemblance to quoits. They were almost entirely uncovered 
 at low water, but when the tide was at its height, only the 
 tops of the two highest were visible. On the summit of one 
 of these, two men, naked to the waist, were now standing. 
 They were apparently shouting at the top of their voices, but 
 the distance was too great for any words to be heard. 
 
 "They want us to take them on board, Fred," said Burton. 
 " I expect they have been bathing, and the current, which is 
 very strong just there, has carried them out to sea. Look, 
 they have nothing but bathing-drawers on. What ought we to 
 do ? It's against rules to go beyond the lighthouse, but these 
 fellows will have to stop several hours on the rocks there if we 
 don't take them off." 
 
 " Yes," said Cressingham, " and one of them may be hurt 
 or taken ill, for all we know ; and it would be no joke waiting 
 there till after dark. I don't think anyone could blame us for 
 fetching them off." 
 
 " That's very much my opinion," said Burton. " If we left 
 them there, and anything happened, we should blame our- 
 selves, even if others didn't blame us."
 
 An Adventure. 39 
 
 " All right," said Cressingham. " Hoist the sail again, and 
 I'll take the rudder." 
 
 Ten minutes or so sufficed to bring the Betsy Jane to the 
 spot. As they approached nearer, they could see that the men 
 did not we.ar bathing-drawers, as Burton had supposed, but 
 trousers of some coarse, dark material, cut off apparently at 
 the knees. They were strongly-built, hard-featured fellows, 
 and their appearance was so little that of bathers, who had 
 been carried out by the tide, that Burton, as the boat drew 
 near, turned the rudder, intending to hold some parley before 
 he took them on board. But one of the strangers noticing the 
 manoeuvre leaped into the water, and, catching hold of the 
 bow, scrambled in before either of the boys could prevent 
 him. 
 
 " Hold hard, my hearty," exclaimed the new comer. " You 
 mustn't do that. Here, give me the rudder." As he spoke 
 he made his way to the stern, and snatched the tiller from 
 Cressingham's hands. " Now then, Tom," he shouted, "jump 
 in here as quick as you can. We've lost a heap of time, and 
 I wonder they haven't been after us before this. Just hand 
 me the file, though. We may chance to want that again." 
 
 The man addressed as Tom complied with his companion's 
 request. He leaned down from the shelf of the rock as the 
 boat was brought close to it, and handed him a short file, 
 which the other thrust into the pocket of his trousers. He 
 then scrambled down into the boat, which he shoved off from 
 the rock. Then he seated himself by the side of the other 
 man, and all four stared awhile at one another. 
 
 " You don't like our company overmuch, I judge," said the 
 man at the helm presently. "Well, we don't want yours.
 
 40 Who did it? 
 
 You can get out on them stones there, if you want to be shut 
 
 of us." 
 
 "That's pretty cool," said Cressingham, "seeing that the 
 
 boat is ours." 
 
 " And that if we hadn't come to help you, you'd have had 
 to stay on the stones yourselves," added Burton. 
 
 " The boat is yours, is it, sir ? " asked Tom, in a much 
 civiller tone than his comrade had used, " Well, sir, we don't 
 mean to steal it, I assure you. We only want to borrow it for 
 a few hours, and then you can have it back again. Come to 
 help us ? So you did, sir," he continued, turning to Burton. 
 " Well, we're obliged, and will do you a good turn some day, 
 I daresay. But just now we're obligated to take care of our- 
 selves." 
 
 " We've a deal more need to be taken care of than they 
 have," growled the other man, whose name they presently 
 learned to be Bill. 
 
 " You are stronger than we are," said Burton, " and if you 
 choose to seize our boat we can't prevent you. You had 
 better tell us plainly what you mean to do." 
 
 " That's plain speaking, anyhow," returned Bill, "and I'll be 
 as plain in my turn. We are going over to Dead Man's Point. 
 You know that, I suppose ? " As he spoke, he and the other 
 man seated themselves, took the oars, and began rowing." 
 " Yes, I know Dead Man's Point," said Burton. 
 " Very well. If you two choose to sit quiet, you can go with 
 us. If you don't, you can swim ashore if you like, we won't 
 prevent you." 
 
 " Can't you put us ashore at Walescliffe ? " asked Cressing- 
 ham. " We can send Jem Gunn round to Dead Man's Point
 
 An Adventure. 41 
 
 and fetch the boat back. We don't want to go to Dead Man's 
 Point ourselves. It's against the rules of our school." 
 
 " Can't help that," replied Bill surlily. " Maybe we'd fall in 
 with folk there that wouldn't be willing to let us go again. 
 You'd better make up your minds at once, whether you are to 
 go with us or swim ashore." 
 
 "We must, of course, go with you," said Burton. "We 
 can't help ourselves. I am not sure I could swim that distance 
 with my clothes on, and am pretty certain that Fred couldn't. 
 I think I understand pretty plainly who you are. You are two 
 convicts who have escaped from Curlew " 
 
 " You'd better not trouble yourself about that," growled 
 Bill. " If you do, you may happen to wish you hadn't" 
 
 " I don't mean to trouble myself about you," said Burton. 
 " I don't see what would be the good of my doing so." 
 
 " No more don't I," retorted the man. " Take the tiller, 
 and steer straight for the Point." 
 
 By this time the boat was abreast of the lighthouse, and the 
 two lads looked somewhat anxiously in the direction of the 
 shore in the hopes that some of the fishermen's boats might 
 be coming out. But there was none in sight ; and they re- 
 signed themselves as composedly as they could to their 
 situation. 
 
 In about an hour they passed the Green Holm, as a long, 
 low, richly-wooded island, lying in the middle of the estuary 
 of the Spene, was called. The boat had made rapid way, both 
 the rowers being not only powerful men, but experienced oars- 
 men. They had approached within two hundred yards or so 
 of the landing-place, when the man, who had been throughout 
 addressed by the other as Bill, suddenly ceased rowing.
 
 42 Who did it ? 
 
 " Stop a bit," he said, " I should like to know what's going 
 to be done now." 
 
 " What should be done? " answered Tom. " We shall get 
 ashore at the Point, and then these young gents can have their 
 boat back again. With this wind they'll get home in half- 
 an-hour." 
 
 " So I suppose," answered the other ; " and if they puts the 
 constables on our track, the ride through Spene Wood if 
 they gallops as they's pretty sure to do ain't much more than 
 another half-hour." 
 
 " They won't put the constables on our track," said the other 
 man. " I know they won't." 
 
 " You're always soft, Tom ; and we shouldn't have got into 
 trouble, if you hadn't been. Anyway, lefs make sure as they 
 won't blab. Look here, sir," he continued, turning to Burton, 
 " will you promise as you won't blow upon us ? " 
 
 " I shan't say anything at all, unless I'm asked," answered 
 Burton. 
 
 " I daresay, but what if you are ? " 
 
 " I'm not going to tell lies to please any one," rejoined Bur- 
 ton shortly. 
 
 " No, sir," observed Tom, " and we don't want you to." 
 
 " That won't do," cried Bill. " Just look here, Tom. I'm 
 not going to be nabbed and sent back in irons, and maybe 
 get six dozen into the bargain, because you choose to be soft- 
 hearted." 
 
 " What do you want to do then ? " asked Tom. 
 
 " Put these youngsters ashore on the Holm, and leave the 
 boat at the Point " 
 
 " Leave the young gentlemen maybe all night on the island
 
 An Adventure. 43 
 
 there," exclaimed Tom, "and rain coming on as likely as 
 not ! " 
 
 " There's the cottage, isn't there, and old Ball and his wife ? " 
 said Bill. 
 
 " They'll be gone home before now, Bill. It's as likely as 
 not, anyway." 
 
 " Well, I don't want to keep them there all night, only an 
 hour or two. They can go and hail old Ball, and get home 
 by Spene Wood, or wait here till some one comes to the Point, 
 and shout to 'em." 
 
 " They might wait till to-morrow," answered the other. 
 " No, I can't have that. If it hadn't been for them, we should 
 have been on the Quoits now, or perhaps nabbed and took 
 back. I'm not going to be so unthankful as to do what you 
 want. I'd rather be took back, and let them do what they like 
 to us than that." 
 
 " You're a fine fellow," said Burton, who had been listening 
 to their conversation ; " and I'll promise you this if I'm asked, 
 or if Fred here is asked, we won't say where we've been or 
 what we've been doing at all, at least not for another week to 
 come. We can only be punished for being out after lock-up 
 time, and we shan't care about that." 
 
 " You're a gentleman, sir," said Tom. " Your word is quite 
 enough. Come, Bill," he continued, turning to his companion, 
 " you hear what the young gentleman says. Let us get on as 
 fast as we can, and give them the boat back again. I tell you 
 I will have it so," he proceeded in a more determined tone, as 
 he noticed that the other still seemed unwilling to comply. 
 " I will have it so, I say ; and you know I'm not to be trifled 
 with, when I make up my mind."
 
 44 Who did it ? 
 
 Bill obeyed, though evidently dissatisfied. " And how, I 
 should like to know," he said, as he recommenced rowing, "what 
 is to become of us when we do land ? Not a halfpenny in our 
 pockets, and no clothes but a pair of stockings and half a pair 
 of trousers a-piece. You think so much of these young gents 
 having to pass a night out of doors in the rain, though they 
 have got all their clothes and their warm boating-jackets into 
 the bargain. What do you think is going to happen to us ? 
 How are we to get food or shelter either ? " 
 
 " We must watch our time," said the other, " and do the 
 best we can. Anyway, here we are. Now step ashore, and 
 we'll wish these young gentlemen good evening, and thank 
 them for their kindness." 
 
 " Hold hard," said Burton. " The evening is warm, and we 
 shan't want our boating jackets. Do you mind lending yours, 
 Fred ? I don't, if you will. I'm sure this good fellow will 
 return them." 
 
 " Not the least," said Cressingham ; " and here's a handker- 
 chief, too, which one of them can tie round his head. I agree 
 with you, I am quite sure they will be returned to us." 
 
 " You are very good, sir," said Tom. " I won't deny as the 
 jackets will be very useful, because if people saw us all but 
 naked in this way, they'd be asking questions, and there ain't 
 no cottages between this and Wickfield " 
 
 " Hold your tongue, stupid," broke in Bill. " What do you 
 go mentioning names for ? " 
 
 " Never mind, Bill," was the reply ; " these young gentlemen 
 are not going to say anything that could hurt us. We shall 
 be very much obliged for the use of the jackets," he continued, 
 " but I don't see how we can send them back to you."
 
 An Adventure. 45 
 
 " I'll tell you how," said Burton. " You say you are going 
 to Wickfield. I'll give you a note to a friend of mine who 
 lives there. He'll take the jackets and send them back to us 
 on the first opportunity." He took out his pencil as he spoke, 
 and wrote a few words on the envelope of a letter. He then 
 twisted the paper up, wrote a direction on the back, and handed 
 it to Tom, together with the two boating-jackets. "There," 
 he said, " is the note, and here are the jackets ; and here is a 
 shilling to get you some bread and cheese at the Plough and 
 Harrow, which is half-way between this and Wickfield. If 
 you've had nothing to eat all day, you'll be wanting it." 
 
 " God bless you, sir, for your kindness," said the man respect- 
 fully, " and good-night to you both." 
 
 He was just moving off when Cressingham called to him. 
 " You had better look at the direction of the note," he said, 
 " and be sure you can read it." 
 
 The man complied, and Cressingham noticed that he gave 
 a little start of surprise as he read the address. " Oh, yes," he 
 said, "I know the house. It is as well known as any in 
 Wickfield." 
 
 Once more bidding the two boys good-night, the men moved 
 off, and soon disappeared in the wood. Cressingham hoisted 
 the sail, while Burton took the helm. The breeze which had 
 freshened at sunset was now sufficient to carry the Betsy Jane 
 before it with even greater speed than Tom had predicted, and 
 little more than twenty minutes had passed before they land ed 
 off Gunn's cottage. Leaping out, they made fast the painter 
 to the great windlass, and then ran up at the top of their speed 
 to the old fisherman's door. 
 
 " We are a good quarter of an hour behind time," ob-
 
 46 WJio did it f 
 
 served Cressingham, glancing at the church clock as they 
 passed. 
 
 " It can't be helped," said Burton. " Here Gunn, old chap," 
 he continued, putting in his head at the cottage door, " give 
 us our coats and hats as quick as you can. Hallo ! what's 
 this?" 
 
 This last exclamation was caused by Neptune, who burst out 
 of the house as soon as the door was opened, and began bound- 
 ing round the boys. " Why, Gunn," cried Cressingham, " what 
 made you tie him up instead of letting him go home ? " 
 
 " I didn't tie him up, Mr Cressingham. He wouldn't go. 
 He's been a-keeping watch over your clothes, and wouldn't 
 leave 'em." 
 
 " What a bore," said Cressingham. " We shall get into a 
 worse row for keeping Nep out. 
 
 " It can't be helped," said Burton again. " We must make 
 all the haste we can now." 
 
 They hurried on accordingly as fast as they could run, until 
 they reached the Priory gate, which they expected to find 
 locked. But to their surprise, it was standing open, and as 
 they entered the gravelled path, Dr Thornton, accompanied 
 by Graves and Taunton, came up from the opposite 
 direction. 
 
 " Oh, so you've found him, Burton," exclaimed the Doctor, 
 as his eye lighted on Neptune. " Do you know where he has 
 been?" 
 
 "Down at Gunn's cottage, sir," answered Cressingham. 
 " Gunn told us so." 
 
 "Gunn. Why didn't he bring him up here?" asked the 
 headmaster.
 
 An Adventure. 47 
 
 " He's laid up with lumbago, sir, and can't walk a step, or 
 I have no doubt he would." 
 
 " That's it, is it ? Well, since the dog is found, we needn't 
 trouble ourselves further. Come in at once, and do you, 
 Cobbe, go and call the others back. It must be quite supper 
 time." 
 
 " Well out of the mess, Clem," whispered Cressingham to 
 Burton, as they took their places at the table, " I never 
 remember a narrower escape than that ' "
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 ANOTHER NARROW ESCAPE. 
 
 " ARE Jerry and O'Toole going to have their match to-day ? " 
 asked Temple of his friend Wright, as they came out into 
 the play-ground after morning-school on the following day. 
 
 " Yes," returned Wright. " Maurice came back last night. 
 I wish his uncle had chosen any other day in the year, 
 rather than yesterday to come and see him. Yesterday would 
 have been a prime day for the match, bright, warm, and clear. 
 To-day is dull and cloudy, and it's as likely as not that it will 
 rain. I don't care half so much for the match to-day." 
 
 " That's lucky, George," said Temple, " because I can't put 
 off returning this money any longer. I didn't very much like 
 leaving it till to-day, but I can't leave it till Monday. If you 
 want to see the fun, you must give up the diving match." 
 
 " Well," said Wright, " I don't care if I do. At all events 
 we'll do your business first, and then there may be time to get 
 down to the beach and see the end of the match. As the 
 fellows are all gone, you'd better fall to work at once." 
 
 " All right," said Temple. " I'll fetch out the properties." 
 He went into the house and returned in a few minutes with 
 a bundle of clothes, which he unpacked in a corner of the
 
 Another Narrow Escape. 49 
 
 shed. " Here they are," he said. " The first question is, 
 where am I to put them on ? " 
 
 " You can't do that here, that's certain," said Winburne. 
 " One of the ushers might come out, and if he was to see a 
 young woman, as he'd suppose, putting on her clothes here in 
 the shed, he'd be a good deal astonished." 
 
 " I should like to see old Hepburn's face," said Wright. 
 " It would be worth seeing." 
 
 "So should I," assented Temple, "if the person caught 
 were anybody but myself. Well ! if I'm not to dress here, 
 where am I to dress ? I can't get up into my bed-room " 
 
 " No, and if you did, and Mother Edwards chanced to 
 come upon you, it would be rather worse for you, than if old 
 Hepburn caught you," said Wright. " I think I see her, if 
 she found a gipsy in one of the bed-rooms ! She'd go 
 off into fits and bring all the house about her ears. No, 
 Charlie ; you must go and dress in the cart-shed in the 
 corner of the Doctor's field. You won't be troubled with 
 any visitors there, unless it happens to be a cow or two." 
 
 " The shed will do well enough," said Temple. " But how 
 am I to get round there and carry these clothes ? I can't 
 carry a bundle like this down the road ; somebody or other 
 would see me." 
 
 " You'd better drop them over the back wall, and then go 
 round and pick them up," suggested Winburne. 
 
 " Yes," said Temple, " but how am I to get to the back 
 wall ? There's the coal-yard and the servants' yard. It won't 
 do to go into the servants' yard. Even if Mother Edwards 
 doesn't happen to be about, there's the cook and Tom Cobbe. 
 Mother Skinner's always grumbling if any of the fellows go into
 
 50 Who did it? 
 
 the servants' offices, and Tom Cobbe owes me one, which I 
 expect he won't be slow to pay." 
 
 " Well, the coal-yard then," said Winburne. " Why not go 
 into that?" 
 
 " Nep's tied up there," said Temple. " The Doctor ordered 
 his kennel to be put there last night." 
 
 "Nep wouldn't hurt you, Charlie," said Wright. "He 
 knows all the fellows, and besides you're a particular friend of 
 his." 
 
 " That's just it," said Temple. " He's been fastened up for 
 nearly two days, and is mad to be loose. He'd think I had 
 come to untie him, and make such a row that he'd bring 
 Hepburn or Wilkes out as likely as not. No, that won't do ; 
 we must contrive to carry these things somehow or other. 
 Look here. Here's this fishing basket. That will hold the 
 shawl, and the shoes and stockings. I can carry that and my 
 fishing-rod, and if any one met me he'd think I was going out 
 to fish." 
 
 " To be sure," said Wright, " and here's my boating jacket. 
 I can wrap the gown in that, and hang it over my arm. And 
 here, Winburne, you take these other things. You can poke 
 the bonnet into the crown of your hat, and we can carry the 
 other things in our pockets." 
 
 " That will do first-rate," observed Winburne, " and we'd 
 better be off as soon as possible. You talked of Hepburn 
 catching us just now, George ; but that he won't do. He has 
 gone out somewhere with Captain Gurdon. I saw them go 
 out together just after school was up, but they may only have 
 gone into the town for something, and will be back again in 
 half-an-hour or so. We'd better lose no time."
 
 A nother Narrow Escape. 5 1 
 
 " Done with you," said Temple. " We have got all the 
 things, I believe. Let us be off." 
 
 They hurried down the road accordingly, until they reached 
 the lane, which led to Doctor Thornton's field, in one corner 
 of which the cart-shed was situated. Here Winburne remained 
 to assist in Charlie's toilette, while Wright hastened back to 
 keep watch over the premises and give Charlie warning if any- 
 thing went wrong. Presently Winburne returned, and almost 
 immediately afterwards Temple appeared, in his gipsy attire. 
 Knowing, as he did, his schoolfellow's adroitness in such 
 matters, he was nevertheless astonished at the completeness 
 of the illusion. 
 
 " By Jove," he exclaimed, " Charlie, you'd take in any Bow 
 Street runner in England. I can hardly believe you're not a 
 regular gipsy tramp. Well, be quick. We've been longer 
 about this than I expected. Come into this corner here, Jack. 
 Tom Cobbe's face will be a thing to see, but he mustn't catch 
 sight of us." 
 
 They niched themselves in a remote corner, while Charlie 
 Temple proceeded to ring the house bell ; and after one or 
 two pulls, the school servant made his appearance. He was 
 greatly scandalized at the appearance of the visitor. 
 
 " Now then, young woman," he exclaimed, " what is it you 
 please to want ? Come to beg, I suppose, or maybe pick up 
 any coats, or umbrellas, as may happen to be left in the hall. 
 The Doctor don't allow no tramps here." 
 
 "If you please, sir," said Charlie Temple, dropping a 
 respectful curtsey as he spoke, the execution of which nearly 
 sent the boys in the corner into fits of laughter ; " if you please, 
 sir, I have a letter here for Captain Gordon."
 
 52 Who did it f 
 
 "Gurdon, young woman," corrected Tom, sternly; "you 
 should learn to call people by their right names, especially 
 when you belongs to the lower walks of society." 
 
 " Gurdon, sir, I beg your pardon," said Temple, humbly, 
 and making a second curtsey. " Gurdon, no doubt, it is, and 
 will you be pleased to give it into his own hands." 
 
 " A letter, eh," said Tom, eyeing the document suspiciously. 
 "And there's something in it, too," he continued, as he 
 handled it. " You're sure there aint nothing wrong in it no 
 pison, no 'splosives nothing that can harm a man." 
 
 " Nothing at all, I assure you, sir," said Temple, " if you will 
 only please to take it." 
 
 "Very well, young woman," returned Tom, loftily, "you 
 don't 'spect no answer, I suppose." 
 
 " Oh no, sir," said Temple, " I wouldn't presume so far." 
 
 Tom nodded approval of the frame of mind which had 
 dictated the reply, and taking the letter vanished into the 
 house. Temple, on his part, glad to be released, was making 
 the best of his way towards the gate, when he found himself 
 suddenly confronted with Captain Gurdon and Mr Hepburn, 
 who had just returned from a visit to the constable's house. 
 The two gentlemen had had an angry dispute, on the subject 
 of the adventure of the previous Wednesday. Mr Hepburn 
 who held the curacy of the district, in which Gossard's Heath 
 was included, had insisted upon it that there were no gipsies 
 remaining in that neighbourhood. There had been a gang no 
 doubt, he said, during the spring, and the early part of the 
 summer; and his parishioners had complained to him of 
 depredations committed on their farm-yards and hen-roosts. 
 But the magistrates had cleared them off some weeks pre-
 
 Another Narrow Escape. 53 
 
 viously, and he was certain that there could be no such family 
 as Captain Gurdon had described to him. The Captain on 
 his side was equally positive ; and after one or two passages of 
 arms, the combatants had agreed to refer the matter to 
 Bartholomew Baines, the head - constable at Walescliffe. 
 They had repaired together to his residence as soon as Mr 
 Hepburn was released from his school duties for the morning. 
 But the result of the interview had not been satisfactory to 
 either party. On the one hand Bartholomew had endorsed 
 Mr Hepburn's statement that the gang of gipsies had left the 
 neighbourhood two months before, having had good reason to 
 believe, that if they remained much longer, very unpleasant 
 consequences would ensue. They had gone, so far as the 
 constable knew, to a distant part of the county, and were not 
 likely to return. On the other hand, he couldn't answer for 
 it but what one family might have been left behind in one of 
 the old half ruinous cottages on Gossard's Heath. The pro- 
 perty, he said, belonged, as Mr Hepburn knew, to a proprietor 
 who lived abroad, and didn't trouble himself much about it. 
 People might remain there for weeks without anybody know- 
 ing it. If so be as the Captain had seen a girl who said she 
 was living in one of these cottages, he didn't see why it 
 shouldn't be true. Most likely it was for the matter of that 
 She must have come from somewhere, and where else could 
 she have come from ? 
 
 This compromise, like most other compromises, failed to 
 satisfy either of the belligerents ; who, it should be noted, were 
 old antagonists, and made a conscience of quarrelling on all 
 available occasions. On the way homewards the dispute 
 between them broke out more sharply than before.
 
 54 Who did it? 
 
 " I told you so, Gurdon. I told you the gipsies had all been 
 gone since the last week in June. I went over and visited the 
 cottages myself, and couldn't be mistaken. But you never 
 will " 
 
 " When did you visit them ? " asked the old sailor, gruffly. 
 
 "When? Why, about the end of June or beginning of 
 July." 
 
 " I daresay you did," rejoined the Captain. " Most likely 
 at that time the man hadn't been taken ill with the fever, and 
 he and his family were sleeping out, as these people do, under 
 a hedge. It was only when he became ill that they shifted 
 into the cottage." 
 
 "I tell you," rejoined Mr Hepburn, angrily, " I go by those 
 cottages every week of my life, and sometimes two or three 
 times a week. Do you think I shouldn't find it out in all 
 those weeks, if one of them had been inhabited ? " 
 
 " No, I don't," said the Captain, stoutly. " There would be 
 no smoke, because, as the girl said, they couldn't afford a fire, 
 and the man and the children being all laid up ill, none of 
 them would be about. Why shouldn't the girl's story be true, 
 I should like to know ? Hepburn, tell me that." 
 
 "The girl's an impostor," rejoined Mr Hepburn, more 
 angrily than before, " palming off a heap of lies, in order to 
 wheedle money out of you that's why." 
 
 " She's no more an impostor^ than you are, Hepburn," re- 
 torted Captain Gurdon, with equal acrimony. " I'm convinced 
 she spoke nothing but the truth, and you won't persuade me 
 to the contrary." 
 
 " We shall see, we shall see," said Mr Hepburn. " Only 
 let me come across her, and I'll soon prove that you are
 
 Anotlier Narrow Escape. 55 
 
 wrong, Captain. Why, I was over there only yesterday after- 
 noon, and went into all the cottages. There wasn't the 
 slightest trace of any one of them having been occupied for 
 ever so long. No, no, she was a tramp, who had made up a 
 story to get money out of you. She was off as soon as she 
 got it, and you may rely on it we shall never set eyes on her 
 again." 
 
 As he uttered these words they were entering the gate of 
 the Priory, and the first object that presented itself to their 
 eyes was the gipsy girl herself, ragged stockings, bonnet, and 
 red shawl, with the discoloured patch on the shoulder, just as 
 Captain Gurdon had described her. 
 
 " There," exclaimed the Captain, triumphantly, as his eye 
 lighted on her, "by Jupiter, there's the girl herself! I told 
 her, if she required further help, to come here and ask for 
 me, and so she has done. What do you say now, Hepburn ? " 
 
 "What do I say," retorted the usher, greatly provoked at 
 his unexpected discomfiture. " Why, I say I shall make it my 
 business to find out who and what she is. I shall insist on 
 her being taken before Colonel Wilder or Mr Wolford to give 
 an account of herself, or be committed as a rogue and vaga- 
 bond. That's what I say ! " 
 
 " And I say I won't suffer it to be done," cried the Captain, 
 his face growing red with anger. " She has come up to see 
 me, and by my order, and I won't have her meddled with." 
 
 "You won't object to my sending for Baines anyhow," said 
 Mr Hepburn, moderating his tone somewhat as he noticed 
 that Gurdon was seriously angry. "Stop there," he added 
 suddenly, as he noticed that the gipsy girl, who had been 
 gradually sidling towards the gate, was now apparently on the
 
 56 Who did iff 
 
 point of making a bolt for it. "Stop there, young woman. 
 You can't be allowed to steal off after that fashion without 
 giving some account of yourself. If there is nothing wrong 
 about you, you needn't be afraid of meeting the constable. 
 Look here, Captain Gurdon, you, of course, are as anxious as 
 I am to find out the truth. Will you go down to Baincs's 
 house and ask him to come up here, while I keep watch 
 over the girl." 
 
 " No, I won't," growled the Captain. " If you choose to 
 bring the man up here I can't help it ; but I think it's a shame 
 to treat a respectable girl so, and I shan't stand by and see it 
 done. When you and Baines have done with her she can 
 come into the house and speak to me." So saying the Captain 
 stalked off majestically and disappeared into the house. 
 
 Mr Hepburn was in nowise disconcerted. He glanced 
 round him in search of some one who might act as his 
 messenger, but Wright and Winburne, who had been anxious 
 spectators of the scene through the cracks of the shed, kept 
 carefully out of sight. After a moment's thought Mr Hepburn 
 rang the bell and summoned Cobbe, whom he forthwith 
 despatched to the constable's cottage, while he himself, closing 
 the iron gate, stationed himself at it, so as to prevent the 
 possibility of the prisoner's escape. 
 
 A very interesting tableau was now presented. On one 
 side was the usher, standing upright and stiff at the entrance, 
 inflexible to all appearance as Rhadamanthus himself; on the 
 other side were Winburne and Wright, watching with looks of 
 perplexity and alarm the issue of this strange adventure. In 
 the middle was Temple himself, for once in a way, fairly at 
 his wits' end. It was plain he had not been recognised. He
 
 'A VERY INTERESTING TABLEAU. 
 
 Page 56.
 
 Another Narrow Escape. 57 
 
 had, indeed, been so afraid of Tom Cobbe's scrutiny that he 
 had slouched the bonnet over the upper part of his face, and 
 tied a handkerchief round his neck, which concealed his chin. 
 But it was wholly impossible that he could stand a long 
 examination by the constable, even if he had known what to 
 say. He was considering, whether it would not be his best 
 chance to make a sudden rush, scramble up the roof of the 
 shed, and escape, if possible, over the wall and so through 
 the back gate. He could certainly climb the roof in question 
 if it were not for his gipsy habiliments ; and it would be im- 
 possible for Hepburn, who was as stiff in his movements as a 
 poker, to follow him. But he was more than half afraid, that 
 hampered as he was, by his attire, he would be unable to 
 make the ascent, in which case, of course, it would be all over 
 with him. The time, however, was passing on, he must do 
 something. He was on the point of making a desperate rush, 
 when suddenly a tremendous uproar arose in the back-yard. 
 Neptune was heard barking furiously, and anon there came 
 screams and cries for help, as from some one in mortal danger. 
 At the same time Winburne rushed out, exclaiming that the 
 dog must have seized some one and was tearing him to pieces. 
 " Help, help," he exclaimed, " he'll be murdered." 
 
 " Ah ! some accomplice," exclaimed Mr Hepburn. " Some 
 one hanging about to rob the premises, while this girl engaged 
 the attention of the occupants. The dog must be called off 
 though. He mustn't be allowed to kill the man." He hurried 
 into the back court, where Nep's kennel stood, followed by 
 Winburne, with frightened and anxious looks. But on their 
 arrival they found the blood-hound the only occupant of the 
 yard. He was evidently in a state of great excitement, strain-
 
 58 Who did it? 
 
 ing and tearing at his chain ; while the gravel was scattered 
 about in all directions, showing the marks of a struggle. But 
 the person, whoever he might have been, whom Nep had 
 seized, had made his escape, probably over the wall of the 
 yard. Mr Hepburn looked in all directions, but the fugitive 
 was out of sight. 
 
 He turned somewhat relieved to Winburne. " Did you see 
 the person, Winburne?" he asked. "What was he like? 
 Was it a man or a woman ?" 
 
 " I don't know, sir, I'm sure," said Winburne, still apparently 
 a good deal dazed. " I only heard the dog barking. I was 
 too frightened to look. I thought the man would certainly 
 have been torn limb from limb !" 
 
 " No one would have been to blame but the person himself, 
 if he had been," remarked Mr Hepburn, sententiously. " Still 
 I am glad that such a casualty has been avoided. Let us go 
 back into the play-ground. Baines must be here in a minute 
 or two now, and we can set him on the track of this intruder. 
 By the bye," he added in an altered tone, as though a thought 
 had suddenly struck him, " I shouldn't wonder if " 
 
 He hurried back into the play-ground, and glanced hastily 
 round him. " What has become of the gipsy girl ?" he cried. 
 
 " The girl who was waiting near the play-ground gate, a 
 quarter of an hour ago, do you mean sir?" asked Winburne, 
 innocently. " She was standing there when I came to call you, 
 but she is gone now. I shouldn't be surprised if she had run 
 away while you were in the back-yard ! " 
 
 Mr Hepburn glanced hastily at the speaker's face, as though 
 some suspicion had crossed his mind, but Winburne's features 
 exhibited the utmost serenity.
 
 Another Narrow Escape. 59 
 
 " This is most singular as well as most unfortunate," he 
 said ; " I am afraid I shall have hardly any chance of lighting 
 on the girl again. And here comes Baines, just too late. 
 Baines, I am sorry to say the girl has escaped escaped in the 
 most extraordinary manner ! While I was keeping watch over 
 her here, some accomplice of hers, I suppose, endeavoured to 
 get over the wall of the back-yard, and was seized by the dog. 
 We went to rescue him, and while we were absent, the girl 
 escaped." 
 
 " Seized by the dog, your Neptune was he sir?" asked the 
 constable ; " then I judge he has some smartish marks upon 
 him. He managed pretty well to get away from the blood- 
 hound at all, but he won't forget him in a hurry, that's sartain ! 
 I'll send my men to look round 'em, and most likely they'll 
 catch 'em both. The chap that has been bit won't travel very 
 fast anyhow. Meanwhile, sir, if you'll be pleased to draw up 
 a full description of this here girl how she was dressed, and 
 what she was to look at, and send it down to my house, that'll 
 be a help to us in looking after her." So saying the constable 
 took himself off to give instructions to his men. 
 
 "A description of the girl," said Mr Hepburn. "Well, as 
 we all three saw her Winburne, that is, Cobbe, and myself, 
 I daresay we can do that. How would you describe her, 
 Winburne?" 
 
 " Well, sir," replied Winburne, " I should say she appeared 
 to me to be a common looking girl enough short and 
 stumpy, with carrotty hair, though I couldn't see that very 
 clearly under her bonnet. She had an old gown on I 
 don't recollect the colour of that, but she had a brown 
 shawl."
 
 60 Who did it ? 
 
 " Short and stumpy, red hair, a brown shawl ! " exclaimed 
 Mr Hepburn. " You couldn't have looked at her, Winburne. 
 She was very thin and angular, if I remember right, and her 
 hair was dark, unless I mistake ; as for her shawl, it was dis- 
 coloured, but it was certainly red." 
 
 " I daresay you are right, sir," said Winburne, demurely. 
 " The truth is, I was so alarmed that I hardly noticed her." 
 
 " Well, that may have been," said the usher. " What do 
 you say, Cobbe ? Does your recollection support my view or 
 MrWinburne's?" 
 
 " I takes no account of that sort," replied Cobbe, loftily. 
 " She was particklar saucy as they of her station is apt to be, 
 and was dressed as the vulgar generally are." 
 
 " Can't you remember the colour of her eyes or hair, or of 
 the clothes she had on ? " asked the usher. 
 
 " They was very common eyes, and very common hair, and 
 very common clothes, too," replied Tom. " I couldn't say no 
 more about them." 
 
 Mr Hepburn gave a short grunt of dissatisfaction, and find- 
 ing no more information was to be obtained, took himself off, 
 followed by Tom. Presently Wright emerged from his corner, 
 and the pair were shortly joined by Temple, who had resumed 
 his proper attire, and carried the fishing basket and coat with 
 the gipsy clothes wrapped in them, one under each arm. His 
 first care was to replace the clothes in the bottom drawer of 
 his bureau. Then the three confederates betook themselves 
 to Temple's study, where they indulged in a hearty laugh. 
 
 " How did you contrive to make Nep bark in that way, 
 George ? I really was afraid for a moment that he had seized 
 you."
 
 Another Narroiv Escape. 6 1 
 
 " Nep will always bark savagely if you hold a piece of raw 
 meat just out of the reach of his chain," replied Wright. 
 " There happened by good luck to be some bits that had been 
 fetched up from the butcher's for bait. I did the fellow that 
 was being murdered pretty well, didn't I ? " 
 
 " First-rate," assented Winburne. " You frightened old 
 Hepburn out of his wits for a moment. Well, Charlie, you're 
 well out of this. I must say you're a wonderful fellow for 
 getting into scrapes, and a still more wonderful one for 
 getting out of them again. I say, what fun it'll be when 
 old Gurdon reads your letter and finds that the money 
 has been returned ! " How he'll crow over Hepburn. 
 There'll be a worse row between them than there was this 
 afternoon." 
 
 " Was there much of a row ? " asked Temple. 
 
 " What ! didn't you hear their voices as they came up the 
 lane ? " asked Wright. " I thought they would have come to 
 fisticuffs. Now Gurdon will be quite cock-a-hoop. He'll be 
 wanting to find you out, Charlie, in order to tip you five bob, 
 as a reward for your honesty." 
 
 " Perhaps Charlie will indulge him," suggested Winburne. 
 " He has only to put on his clothes, you know, again, and meet 
 the Captain in one of his walks." 
 
 " He has had enough of that," said Wright, shaking his 
 head. " There's a proverb about the pitcher going oft to the 
 well. It was uncommon near being smashed to-day. Talk- 
 ing of that, Charlie, I wonder you brought those clothes back 
 to-day. If I had been you, I should have taken them straight 
 back to Mother Maggots and left them there." 
 
 " I did take them back," said Temple. " I took them back
 
 62 Who did it? 
 
 as soon as I had changed my clothes. But I couldn't 
 find Mother Maggots. The house was shut up." 
 
 " What ! she has made a bolt of it ? " asked Wright, " and 
 taken your trousers with her, has she, Charlie ? " 
 
 " I don't know what she has done with the trousers," 
 answered Temple, "but she has gone herself. I knocked 
 half-a-dozen times at her door, and then tried to make my way 
 in at the back ; but it was no go. I went and looked up one 
 of the neighbours, and he told me that Baines and his lot had 
 been up to the old lady's house, asking all sorts of questions. 
 Hepburn, I suppose, had put them up to it. I guess she 
 didn't much fancy having the constables hanging about the 
 house, and so she had cleared off herself. I don't much 
 expect to see her or my white trousers again. But as I told 
 you before, they are no great loss. Mother Maggots is wel- 
 come to them."
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 THE PISTOL MATCH. 
 
 SCHOOL was just up ; the first-class boys were lounging about 
 in the play-ground, waiting for the arrival of the post before 
 proceeding to the beach. It was unusually late that day, and 
 several of the boys were inclined to be discontented at the 
 delay. Rawes and Dilke in particular grumbled at being 
 obliged to kick their heels on one of the finest days they had 
 had that season. It had been arranged that Graves and his 
 party were to have the Betsy Jane that day. Burton and Cress- 
 ingham had had it on the last half- holiday, and Temple and 
 his friends had announced that they did not want it. It was 
 a glorious day for a boating party ; and it had been agreed that 
 Graves, Taunton, Dilke, Rawes, and Payne should row to 
 Crawley Point, and then sail back again. It would not take 
 them more than an hour and a half, it was reckoned, and the 
 sail back with the fine westerly breeze that was blowing would 
 be delicious. Some of the party had tried to persuade Graves 
 to set off without waiting for the post, but he was anxiously 
 expecting to hear the result of his sister's application to his 
 guardian for money to buy the gun and pistols, and had briefly 
 stated his intention of staying for the letters. Jerry Taunton,
 
 64 Who did it f 
 
 however, had been sent on to get everything in readiness, so 
 that as little time as possible might be sacrificed. 
 
 "Some accident must have happened to the mail," said 
 Payne, when a quarter of an hour or so had passed without the 
 appearance of the school-servant. " The letters are sometimes 
 late since this new postman's appointment, but I have never 
 known him so late as this." 
 
 " He stops to gossip with everybody that he meets," 
 grumbled Rawes. " Old Grimes told me he has seen him 
 stand at a cottage door for a quarter of an hour together. A 
 row ought to be made about it. We are just losing the fine 
 part of the day. Jerry must have had the boat ready this 
 quarter of an hour and more." 
 
 " Here he is coming back again," said Dilke. " He has 
 come back to know what has become of us, I suppose. Well, 
 Jerry, is the Betsy all right ? This brute of a postman hasn't 
 come yet We can't go till he has come." 
 
 " It doesn't much matter whether he comes soon or late," 
 returned Taunton. " I'm sorry to say we can't have the Betsy" 
 
 " Why not ? " exclaimed half-a-dozen voices. 
 
 "She's gone out, and young James Gunn in her that's 
 why," returned Taunton. 
 
 "What an abominable shame," exclaimed Rawes. " It was 
 a clear understanding that we were to have her on half-holi- 
 days. A row ought to be made about this." 
 
 " Well, old Gunn's very sorry," said Taunton. " I must say 
 it isn't his fault, nor yet young James's either. There's an 
 officer come down from London to make some inquiries at 
 Curlew, and he insisted upon having the Betsy Jane. Gunn 
 says he couldn't have refused him."
 
 The Pistol Match. 65 
 
 " An officer from London ! " said Graves. " What ! sent 
 down by the Government, I suppose ? No, old Gunn's right ; 
 he couldn't have refused that. What has he come down for ? 
 Did Gunn tell you that, Jerry ? " 
 
 " He's going to inquire into that business about the gipsy 
 girl, I fancy," said Payne, " which there has been all this blow- 
 up about for the last three or four days. Hepburn has written 
 up to London, I expect. Isn't that it, Jerry?" 
 
 " No, that's not it," said Taunton ; " they wouldn't send an 
 officer down from London about such rubbish as that. No, 
 it's about two fellows that have escaped from Curlew " 
 
 " Curlew ! " exclaimed Cressingham, who with Burton and 
 O'Toole had just entered the play-ground. " Convicts, I 
 suppose ? " 
 
 " No," answered Taunton, " they were not convicts. I 
 fancied that when I first heard it ; but they were man o' war's 
 men. They had deserted from the Enterprise, which was lying 
 in Curlew Roads just ready to join Lord Exmouth's squadron. 
 The Enterprise was on the very point of sailing, in fact she has 
 sailed now ; sailed the day after these fellows got off." 
 
 " How could they have contrived to escape ? " said Graves. 
 " I should have thought it quite impossible. The whole coast 
 opposite the island is guarded by sentinels to prevent the con- 
 victs from getting away, and they would have stopped any one 
 who attempted to pass." 
 
 " They've made a swim for it and got to Haverport," sug- 
 gested O'Toole. 
 
 " Haverport, Maurice," repeated Graves. " You don't know 
 the coast, I fancy, or you wouldn't suppose that. The current 
 runs so sharp to the east, that the strongest swimmer couldn't
 
 66 Who did it? 
 
 make head against it. No, if they swam for it, it must have 
 been the other way." 
 
 " What, our way ? " said Dilke. " That might be, but then 
 there is no landing place between us and Curlew. The cliffs 
 are so steep the whole way along that a fellow couldn't climb 
 them without help from above. There's no place at which 
 they could land before Walescliff." 
 
 " And they couldn't have landed there, because the coast- 
 guard fellows must have seen them," added Payne. 
 
 " No, it's a dead puzzle to every one," said Taunton, " how 
 they did contrive to get off. This officer chap, whoever he is, 
 has been examining a lot of fellows in Walescliff. That's what 
 made him come here, instead of going to Horncombe by the 
 mail. But he could find out nothing." 
 
 " Do you know why they deserted ? " asked Burton. 
 
 " Simply because they didn't like to serve, I believe," said 
 Taunton. " Old Gunn said they were pressed men, who had 
 been brought on board only two days before, and next to 
 nothing was known about them." 
 
 " Here are the letters at last," exclaimed Graves, as Tom 
 Cobbe made his appearance with the bag in his hand. " Do 
 you know what has made the post so late to-day ? " 
 
 "The post is not in my department, Mr Graves," said 
 Cobbe. " But there has been a good deal, I am informed, to 
 occupy the postman this morning." 
 
 " That's to say he has been chattering and gossiping with 
 everybody he met about these fellows who have made their 
 escape, I suppose," suggested Dilke. " Well, Tom, who are 
 the letters for ? Is there one for Mr Graves ? " 
 
 " There are but eight letters this morning, Mr Dilke. Two
 
 The Pistol Match. 67 
 
 of them for the Doctor, two for Mr Hepburn, one for Mr 
 Burton, one for Mr Taunton, one for Mr Field, and one for 
 Mr Graves." 
 
 " Why couldn't you give it him before, stupid ! " cried Dilke, 
 impetuously. " That's the letter we've been waiting for." 
 
 " Not to notice your language, Mr Dilke," returned Tom, 
 with dignified serenity, " it is not my office to deliver the 
 letters permiscusly, but according to fixed rules the Doctor's 
 first, as is befitting, the usher's next, and then the young 
 gentlemen in the order of their alphabets." 
 
 " What, Taunton before Graves, hey, Tom?" asked Temple, 
 laughing. " Is that the order of their alphabets ? " 
 
 Somewhat discomposed, Tom muttered something about 
 exceptions to all rules, and made a hasty retreat, while Graves, 
 having glanced rapidly through his letter, tossed it aside. 
 
 " We needn't have waited for this," he said. "Clara only 
 writes to say my guardian has been absent, but is returning 
 immediately, and she will speak to him as soon as he arrives. 
 Let us be off at once." 
 
 The others assenting, the whole throng moved off to the 
 shore, leaving no one in the play-ground but Burton and 
 Cressingham the former occupied in the perusal of his letter, 
 which seemed to interest him greatly, though it only contained 
 a few lines. 
 
 Cressingham waited until he saw his friend fold the letter 
 up and put it into his pocket, then he addressed him. 
 
 "What do you intend doing this afternoon, Clem?" he asked. 
 
 " Oh, I don't care much. Suppose we go down to the 
 beach and join the other fellows." 
 
 " I've no objection. Perhaps we_may pick up some infor-
 
 68 Who did it? 
 
 mation about those two fellows we took off the Quoits. By 
 the bye, isn't it rather strange we've heard nothing from George 
 Alford about them ? " 
 
 " The letter I got just now is from George," replied Burton. 
 " But he says very little about the two men only that they 
 had brought the boating jackets and your handkerchief to him, 
 and that he would forward them to us as soon as he had an 
 opportunity. He only writes a sentence or two, because, as 
 he says, he's going to send a long letter almost immediately. 
 But come, let us be off." 
 
 They left the school precincts accordingly, and found, as 
 they expected, their companions consulting as to how they 
 should employ the afternoon. But Cressingham noticed that, 
 with the exception of Temple himself, no one of the particular 
 set to which he belonged, and of which he was accounted the 
 leader, was present. 
 
 " Where are Wright and Winburne and Hibbert ? " he asked 
 of Field, who happened to be standing near him. 
 
 " Oh, they have gone off because they are savage with 
 Graves," answered Field. 
 
 " What's the matter ? " asked Cressingham. 
 
 " Didn't you see the row there was in the play-ground just 
 after school ? " asked Field. 
 
 " No, I was with Burton and O'Toole in the schoolroom 
 finishing the Juvenal. What was it about, and with 
 whom?" 
 
 " It was with young Hibbert and young Warner," replied 
 Field. " They'd laid a wager about the time which it would 
 take to run from the play-ground gate to the poplars. The 
 distance, I should suppose, is somewhere about a hundred and
 
 The Pistol Match. 69 
 
 twenty yards. I've never measured it, but I should put it at 
 that." 
 
 " You are not much out, I judge," said Cressingham, "go on." 
 
 "Young Hibbert declared he could run it in half a 
 minute. Warner offered to bet him sixpence he couldn't. 
 Some fellows were appointed umpires, and the start was just 
 going to take place, when they found that none of them had 
 a watch with a second hand. They went about asking fellows 
 for one, and presently it was discovered that no one but Graves 
 had the article in question." 
 
 " Graves never will lend his watch," said Cressingham. 
 " Every one knows that." 
 
 " Charlie Hibbert didn't," rejoined Field, " or pretended he 
 didn't. He went up to Graves, who was refastening the tassel 
 of that whalebone of his, and asked him for it. Graves 
 answered shortly that he wouldn't lend it. Charlie's back was 
 put up, I suppose, at Graves's manner, or perhaps he thought 
 that as the brother of a first-class boy, he might take liberties. 
 He went back to Warner and the others and said loud enough 
 for Graves to hear him : ' The sulky brute won't let us 
 have it.' " 
 
 " The plague he did ! " rejoined Cressingham. " And Graves 
 was standing by, with his whalebone ready in his hand, was 
 he ? That was not wise of Charlie Hibbert, I must say ! " 
 
 "True for you, my lad," cried O'Toole, who had been 
 standing by, listening to the conversation. " I guess Charlie 
 thought so himself a minute or two afterwards ; for Stephen 
 grabbed his collar with one hand and the whalebone with the 
 other, and laid into him for the dear life, till he howled 
 again ! "
 
 70 WJto did it f 
 
 "He might have expected it, I must say," observed 
 Cressingham. 
 
 " He deserved a sharp cut or two, I allow," said Field, " but 
 not such a savage leathering as Graves gave him. And he 
 might have listened to Tom Hibbert, who ran up as soon as 
 he heard of it and remonstrated, saying his brother would beg 
 pardon. But Graves wouldn't listen, and it got so bad that 
 Tom Hibbert and Winburne tried to catch hold of the 
 whalebone." 
 
 " So they did," said O'Toole, " and they did catch it too, 
 but not in the way they wanted. Sure and it was lucky for 
 them that Wilkes came out into the play-ground, or they'd 
 have been like the Kilkenny cats nothing but their tails 
 left ! " 
 
 " I wonder Temple didn't interfere," observed Field. 
 
 " Temple was with the Doctor," said O'Toole. "I judge 
 he doesn't know anything about it now, or he'd have gone off 
 with Wright and Winburne." 
 
 " He couldn't have done anything but ask Graves to stop, 
 or have referred the matter to the Doctor," said Cressingham. 
 " I am afraid Temple and his set will be very sore about this 
 though." 
 
 " Ye may say that," assented O'Toole. " Jack Winburne's 
 shoulders and Tom Hibbert's fingers will be sore enough, ye 
 may be sure. Jack won't lie on his back, and Tom wont 
 write to his friends this week to come, I'll go bail for it! But 
 won't we do something ? Won't we play rounders, Burton ? " 
 
 "Rounders," repeated Burton. "Well, there is a stretch 
 of sand sufficient for that at this moment, no doubt. But the 
 tide's coming in, and in three-quarters of an hour, or an hour
 
 TJie Pistol Match. 7 1 
 
 at farthest, we should be obliged to stop. Don't you think 
 so, Temple?" 
 
 " There'd be time for a good game now," said Temple, " if 
 we had the bats and balls down here. But that we haven't, 
 and it would take twenty minutes to fetch them. But how 
 about a paper chase along the shore ? " 
 
 " I don't think there'd be time for that either," said Burton. 
 " There's the same objection as there was to the game of 
 rounders. We should be able to get round Cockle Head, and 
 as far as Hanger's Cave, no doubt. But we shouldn't be able 
 to get back again round the Head if we stayed any time." 
 
 "Well, let's do something at all events," said Taunton. 
 " This is desperately dull work. Let's have a cock-shy. 
 That is better than nothing." He picked up a ginger-beer 
 bottle, which was lying among the shingle, the souvenir of 
 some picnic held on the sands, and was proceeding to set it 
 up on a flat rock at a little distance, when an addition to the 
 party appeared in the person of Nep, who came bounding 
 down the lane leading from Holmwood, followed by Tom 
 Cobbe, who, like " panting " Time in Johnson's panegyric on 
 Shakespeare, " toiled after him in vain." The dog, which had 
 been tied up ever since the day of Burton and Cressingham's 
 expedition to Deadman's Point, had been unchained, by Mrs 
 Thornton's order, for a short run, and had made use of his 
 liberty to follow the boys to the beach. He came bounding 
 down in wild spirits, and sprang upon Graves, who was just 
 stooping to pick up a stone. Graves's coat was covered with 
 sand, and he, himself, was very near measuring his length on 
 the ground. He got up in great wrath, and struck the dog a 
 sharp cut with his whalebone. Nep, unused to this treat-
 
 72 Who did it? 
 
 ment, growled fiercely, and showed a formidable range of 
 teeth. 
 
 " Ye'd better mind what ye're at," exclaimed O'Toole. "If 
 he catches a grip of ye, ye may send straight to the under- 
 taker for your coffin. By the elevens, those teeth of his would 
 grind ye up like coffee in a mill." 
 
 " The brute had better keep clear of me" returned Graves, 
 who seemed no way daunted. "If he were to spring on me 
 with his teeth, I should be the last fellow that he ever would 
 spring on." 
 
 " You mean that the Doctor would interfere for the pro- 
 tection of his young gentlemen?" said Cobbe, who had 
 now come up. "Well, no doubt we should all do our 
 duty." 
 
 " I don't want any one to protect me," broke in Graves 
 angrily. " I would put a stopper, and that pretty soon, on the 
 brute, myself." 
 
 " Ye would ? " cried O'Toole, " and how would ye manage 
 that, my boy ? " 
 
 " I should put a pistol bullet through his head," answered 
 Graves. 
 
 " A pistol bullet," remonstrated the Irishman. " Sure and 
 ye wouldn't hurt poor Nep, the darling ! There he goes, as 
 quiet as a lamb," he continued, as Cobbe, who had now suc- 
 ceeded in buckling the collar round his neck, led him off 
 towards Holmwood. " There he goes for a fine fellow, as he 
 is ! Sorra a one would hurt him, to be sure ! " 
 
 " I wouldn't hurt him unless he tried to hurt me," remarked 
 Graves, with the same coolness as before ; " but if he did, I'd 
 show him small mercy. But come along, Maurice, Jerry ;
 
 The Pistol Match, 73 
 
 come along, this cock-shy will be as good fun as anything else. 
 We'll take a turn at it all round." 
 
 The boys readily assented, being in the idle humour, when 
 anything diverts them. Half-a-dozen of the first-class entered 
 for the contest. Each picked up his pebbles, and took his 
 shot in turn. But the bottle was a small one and was placed 
 at a considerable distance, and it was agreed at last that they 
 must move nearer to it. Then Temple proved the victor, his 
 second stone knocking a bit off the rim at the top, and his 
 third shattering it to fragments. 
 
 " Well done, Charlie," said O'Toole ; " You're the boy for 
 my money. I'd like to see ye throw for hot potatoes at Ballin- 
 asloe Fair. Ye'd soon earn your supper." 
 
 " It's rather slow work shying pebbles," remarked Rawes, 
 who was annoyed at Temple's success. " It would be some 
 fun shooting at one of these bottles with pistols. You'd soon 
 do for Temple at that, Stephen, I expect." 
 
 " How do ye know that ? " asked Maurice. " Why wouldn't 
 Charlie shoot with a pistol as well as he throws with a pebble ?" 
 
 " Only that he can't," returned Rawes, carelessly. " Stephen 
 is a first-rate shot, and Temple can't shoot at all." 
 
 " Can't I, indeed, Rawes?" asked Temple, sharply. " What 
 do you know about my shooting?" 
 
 " I don't know anything," answered Rawes, "for the best of 
 all reasons, because there's nothing to know." 
 
 " Did ye ever see him shoot with a pistol ? " asked O'Toole. 
 
 " No," answered Rawes, " nor anybody else either." 
 
 " Ye're just out there, then, my boy," rejoined the Irishman ; 
 "for I've seen him shoot. It was one day last autumn, when we 
 went over to see Mr Carrington at Horncombe. Mr Carring-
 
 74 WJto did it ? 
 
 ton took us out with him, and Charlie shot first-rate. He 
 shot a hare and two brace of partridges." 
 
 " What, with a pistol, Maurice ? " asked Taunton. " Charlie 
 must be a first-rate shot, indeed, to shoot partridges with 
 pistols." 
 
 " Bother, now," said O'Toole, " it was with a gun, so it was ; 
 but where's the difference ? Ye wouldn't tell me that he could 
 shoot like that with a gun, and miss with a pistol. ' Omne 
 majus continet in se minus,' as Hepburn's for ever saying." 
 
 There was a general laugh, which somewhat inflamed the 
 Irishman's choler. " Ah ! ye may laugh," he said ; " but let 
 them laugh that win. I'd back Charlie for a guinea if I had 
 one against you, Dick Rawes, or any of your friends either." 
 
 " If you backed him against Graves, you'd lose your money, 
 that would be all," retorted Rawes. " It's a pity you haven't 
 a guinea, or I'd take the wager with you." 
 
 O'Toole, who was beginning to wax wroth, would have made 
 an angry rejoinder, but Temple interposed. " You had better 
 not back me against Graves, Maurice," he said, " for I have no 
 doubt you would lose your money. At the same time, Rawes, 
 let me tell you you're talking at random, rather. I don't know 
 whether you or anyone else may have seen me shoot with a 
 pistol, and I don't care either ; but I have shot with one never- 
 theless. I don't profess to be a crack shot, but I'll undertake 
 to hit a ginger-beer bottle, such as we were shying at, at the dis- 
 tance of a dozen yards, certainly once in six times." 
 
 " Once in six times," repeated Rawes contemptuously ; 
 "first-rate shooting that, to be sure. Why, here's Stephen, 
 who'd be safe to hit it five times in six, and probably the sixth 
 time also."
 
 TJie Pistol Match. 75 
 
 " I beg leave to say I doubt that," said Temple. 
 
 " Very likely ; but your doubts don't go for much. What do 
 you say yourself, Steve?" he continued, turning to Graves, 
 who had stood by amusing himself by drawing figures on the 
 sand with his whalebone. " Couldn't you have hit the ginger- 
 beer bottle that we smashed just now. Couldn't you have hit 
 it at twelve yards with a pistol" 
 
 " Well, yes," answered Graves, indifferently. " A fellow 
 could hardly miss it at that distance, I should think." 
 
 " Ye couldn't," cried O'Toole. " I'd just like to see ye do 
 it, my boy. Can't we get a pistol now from anywhere, and see 
 him do it ? " 
 
 " Oh yes," said Taunton. " We could get a pistol if we 
 wanted one. Old Grimes has a pair hanging over his mantel- 
 piece. I make no doubt he'd lend them." 
 
 " Hooroo ! that's the time of day," shouted Maurice. 
 " We'll be off and borrow them. It isn't above a mile, the 
 short way to Grimes's. We'll be back in a quarter of an hour. 
 Jerry, my lad, ye'll come with me, won't ye? Tis you that 
 are the boy to blarney Grimes, and no one else." 
 
 " I've no objection," said Taunton, laughing. " He's a 
 good-natured old chap is Grimes. I don't know that it would 
 require much blarney to persuade him to lend the pistols." 
 
 The two boys were on the point of setting out when Burton 
 interposed. " You don't really mean to shoot this match, do 
 you ? " he asked, looking at Graves and Temple. Neither of 
 the boys addressed made any answer, but O'Toole broke in. 
 
 " Why wouldn't they shoot it ? " he asked. 
 
 " Why ? " repeated Burton. " Because it's dead in the teeth 
 of the rules of the school. It is most strictly forbidden to use
 
 76 Who did it? 
 
 guns or pistols. There was a great row three or four years 
 ago, soon after I came, when some fellows merely went to a 
 shooting-match, but didn't take any part in it themselves." 
 
 " Ye are not asked to shoot," said O'Toole, " and ye needn't 
 stop and see it if ye don't like it." 
 
 " I know that, Maurice," said Burton. " But it's the busi- 
 ness of the seniors to prevent the rules being broken." 
 
 " The seniors," repeated O'Toole. " Be easy, now. If you 
 and Fred Cressingham, there, are seniors, so are Charlie and 
 Steve, too. Ye can't come the senior over them." 
 
 " I know that, O'Toole," said Burton. " I have no wish to 
 meddle with them. But they didn't propose this, and I don't 
 suppose they will agree to have anything to do with it." 
 
 The remark was not judicious. Temple coloured slightly, 
 but said nothing. Graves observed coldly : " You need not 
 trouble yourself about me, Burton. I don't particularly care 
 about this match ; but unless Temple declines it, I shall be 
 ready to shoot it." 
 
 " I don't know why I should decline it, I'm sure," said 
 Temple. " If you choose to bring the pistols here, I, too, am 
 ready to make the trial." 
 
 " That's all right, then," said Taunton, who, like many of the 
 others present, wanted to see the match shot in the first place, 
 for the fun of the thing, and in the second, in order to thwart 
 Burton and Cressingham, with whom he had the same kind of 
 smouldering feud which a scampish boy usually has with an 
 orderly one. " Come along, Maurice. If you fellows will find 
 a bottle there's a lot scattered about on the shore here, and 
 mark out the distance, we shall be back almost as soon as you 
 are ready for us."
 
 The Pistol Match. 77 
 
 " We had better come away, Clem," said Cressingham. 
 " We can't prevent this, of course, but we will take no part in 
 it. Let's walk up to Spurling Farm. I want to see whether 
 they've begun the harvest in Dobson's wheat-field." 
 
 The two seniors moved off, and the others spread themselves 
 over the beach in search of ginger-beer bottles. Half-a-dozen 
 were soon found. One of them was chosen, and firmly fixed 
 on a flat shelf of rock. Presently Taunton and O'Toole re- 
 turned with a pistol-case and a bag of bullets. 
 
 " Now then, Temple," said Graves, when Rawes had loaded 
 one of the pistols and handed it to him, " do you wish to shoot 
 first, or leave that to me ? " 
 
 " You had better take your shots first," answered Temple. 
 " You are to hit it five times out of six, you know. When that 
 has been done I will take my six shots, and see whether I can 
 hit it once or twice, as I engaged to do. Only," he added, look- 
 ing round him, "I doubt whether there'll be bottles enough." 
 
 " There's plenty more," said Dilke, " if we should want 
 them. But here are the six that Steve will smash, and they 
 may be enough after all" Temple coloured, as he was apt to 
 do, when he felt annoyed, but he made no reply. Graves took 
 the pistol from Rawes, stepped up to the line that had been 
 marked on the sand, levelled, and drew the trigger. The ball 
 missed the mark, but where it went no one could see. There 
 was an exclamation of surprise, for everyone -had expected to 
 see the neck of the bottle fly off. 
 
 Graves himself looked annoyed. " Load the other pistol, 
 Dick," he said, " but don't put in quite so much powder. I 
 pointed straight enough. I suppose the pistol must have 
 thrown up a little."
 
 78 Who did it ? 
 
 Rawes obeyed in silence, and handed him the second pistol. 
 Graves now aimed with greater care than before, but he had 
 no better success. This time the ball struck a fragment from 
 the rock at a place at least two feet wide of the mark. 
 
 Graves threw down the pistol with an angry exclamation. 
 " These pistols can't be true," he cried. " I shan't shoot with 
 them any more. You had better take them back to Grimes ; 
 they are no good at all." 
 
 " Stop a bit," interposed O'Toole, as Taunton was about to 
 comply. " It's Charlie's turn now. Ye can but miss, Charlie," 
 he added in an undertone to Temple, " and ye'll be no worse 
 than him if ye do. I'll load for ye. The sight's true enough," 
 he whispered. " Point straight, and it'll be all right." 
 
 Temple took the pistol, levelled carefully, and fired. A 
 shout of acclamation was raised as the ginger- beer bottle flew 
 into shivers. 
 
 " What an abominable piece of luck," exclaimed Rawes. 
 
 There was a general murmur of indignation. 
 
 " Luck, is it ? Is it luck, ye call it ? " cried O'Toole. " Will 
 Graves himself says that it's luck?" 
 
 " No," answered Graves quietly. " It was not luck, Maurice. 
 But I'll tell you what it was. It was that you found out what 
 Dick Rawes didn't that the bullets didn't fit the pistols. I 
 suspected that after the second shot, and so did you, for I saw 
 you wrap the bullet in a piece of paper before you rammed it 
 down." 
 
 " In a bit of paper," repeated Maurice. " Murder ! didn't 
 Dick do the same ? Sure it would have rattled in the barrel 
 like a pea in a pea-shooter ! You'd better load yourself, 
 Stephen, and we'll put up another bottle for you though, to 
 be sure, ye won't mend Charlie's shot."
 
 The Pistol Match. 79 
 
 " No," said Graves, " I don't mean to shoot with these pis- 
 tols any more. I think I was foolish in undertaking to shoot 
 a match with pistols, of which I didn't know anything. But I 
 tell you what : I'll undertake to shoot this match as we origi- 
 nally agreed hitting a bottle at this distance that is to say, 
 five times in six. If I don't do that, and Temple hits it twice 
 in his six shots, he wins. If I do hit it the five times, and he 
 makes more than four misses, he loses. Both parties to pro- 
 vide their own pistols. Do you agree to that, Temple ? " 
 
 " I don't want to have anything more to do with it," said 
 Temple. " I didn't wish it at first, but you fellows wanted it." 
 
 " We fellows want it now," said Rawes, " and it will be most 
 unfair " 
 
 " I'm not going to do anything unfair," interrupted Temple. 
 " I'll shoot the match, only it must be shot some day this week 
 or next. I expect I shall be sent for home in the week after 
 next, and don't know what may be settled then about my 
 return." 
 
 " Very well," said Graves. " This is Wednesday, August 
 9th ; suppose we say Friday, the i8th." 
 
 " Better say Saturday," said Taunton. " Hepburn always 
 goes over to his parish on Saturday, or is engaged in writing 
 his sermon. He is the only one at all likely to catch us." 
 
 " Saturday be it," said Graves indifferently. " Indeed that 
 will be better, as it will give one day more."
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 A RETROSPECT. 
 
 " WHAT a pity it is Charlie Temple lets those fellows lead him 
 by the nose," said Cressingham, as the friends trudged along 
 the lane towards Spurling Village. " He's worth them all three 
 times over, and dislikes them, I believe, as much as you and 
 I do, Clem. If he'd only had the pluck to say that he didn't 
 care twopence what they said or thought, he wouldn't get into 
 one scrape, where he gets into twenty." 
 
 " Yes," assented Burton ; " but unluckily it's a part of 
 Temple's character to mind what such fellows as Dilke and 
 Rawes say. It has always been the same with him, as long as 
 I can remember. He is for ever getting himself into a row, 
 because he minds what fellows say, whose opinion isn't worth 
 a straw. That was the history of the row he got into about 
 Harry Wilder two years ago." 
 
 " Ay ; I never understood the rights of that," said Cressing- 
 ham. " Harry Wilder's a good fellow, isn't he ? " 
 
 " I believe so," said Burton, " much such another fellow as 
 Temple himself. It wasn't Harry that got him into the scrape, 
 but a fellow who was staying at Colonel Wilder's Drake, I 
 think his name was. They used to play at billiards at the King's
 
 A Retrospect. 81 
 
 Arms in the High Street during the holidays. He persuaded 
 Charlie, after he'd gone back to school, to go up to the King's 
 Arms and play with him and Harry, though the inn was out of 
 bounds. Temple was very nearly caught one day by Wilkes and 
 Macdonald, and he wouldn't go again. But Drake persuaded 
 him to slip out at night, after the fellows were gone to bed " 
 
 " How could Temple contrive to get out ? " interrupted 
 Cressingham. " Are you sure, Clem, of what you say ? What 
 passed was kept very quiet, you know." 
 
 " I know that," said Burton. " But Mr Knyvett, who was 
 somehow concerned in the matter, told my aunt all about it ; 
 and she told me, wanting to warn me against Temple, I 
 believe. I never talked about it, but I don't mind telling you. 
 The thing went on for a long time, and at last Colonel Wilder 
 found out that both Harry and Charlie owed Drake a lot of 
 money. Drake had persuaded them to play for half-a-crown 
 and five shillings a game, and in time it had run up to a good 
 bit of money. Drake was going away, and wanted to be paid, 
 and threatened to speak to Colonel Wilder about it 
 
 "He must have been a proper snob, that Drake," cried 
 Cressingham. 
 
 " Yes," assented Burton, " an out and out snob. Well, 
 Harry Wilder was obliged to tell his father about it, and to ask 
 him not only to pay his debt to Drake, but lend Temple some 
 money to pay his; for neither of them had a stiver. The 
 Colonel was very angry. He went straight up into Drake's 
 room, took out his purse, and paid him his whole demand 
 against both Harry and Charlie. Then he requested to know 
 when Mr Drake's portmanteau would be ready to be taken to 
 the inn. Drake had to clear out at five minutes' notice." 
 
 F
 
 82 Who did it? 
 
 " Serve him right, too," said Cressingham ; " but the Colonel 
 went up to the Doctor about it, didn't he ? " 
 
 "Yes, the Colonel's a peppery old fellow," said Burton; 
 and his back was particularly put up. I believe he was sorry 
 afterwards that he had been so hasty. But he went and told 
 it all to Thornton." 
 
 " Well, the doctor was pretty savage, I should think, wasn't 
 he ? " asked Cressingham. 
 
 " He isn't as fiery as the old Colonel, but he was very angry. 
 He was for expelling Temple forthwith, but old Wilder, who 
 had cooled down, begged him off. It was settled at last that 
 Temple should give his word never to go out of bounds with 
 Harry Wilder again ; and that, I believe, has been strictly kept 
 to. Temple had a black cross to his name, and that lost him 
 the prize that half-year in the third class." 
 
 "I think he got off uncommonly easy," said Cressingham. 
 " But look here, Clem. How did Temple manage to get in 
 and out of the house at night ? I don't know a place where it 
 would be so difficult to do that. I know there's a moveable 
 bar in the passage, and I've seen fellows scramble out of the 
 window when they wanted to get into the yard after the house- 
 door had been locked ; and I know the inside wall may be 
 scaled. But who could get into the yard from the outside, as 
 Charlie must have done ? Look what a height those walls are, 
 and as smooth almost as a sheet of glass. It would puzzle a 
 monkey to get up." 
 
 " I know all about that too," said Burton, " though I don't 
 believe anybody else in the school but myself and Temple know." 
 
 " How did you find it out ? " inquired Cressingham. " I 
 suppose Mr Knyvett didn't tell you that too, did he ? "
 
 A Retrospect. 83 
 
 "No," returned Burton, "I don't suppose Mr Knyvett 
 knew. No, I found it out in this way. I was very ill near 
 about the time when this row was going on. I had sprained 
 my foot very badly, and had to lie all day and night on my 
 bed for nearly a fortnight. I was put to sleep in my present 
 room, which is the only one in the house which looks to the 
 north. I was lying awake about half-past three one morning 
 looking out of the window at the birds, which were just waking 
 up, when I saw Temple coming up through the wood on the 
 north side of the house. He crept up very cautiously, looking 
 round him in all directions. I had heard enough to guess 
 where he had been, and was curious to see how he would con- 
 trive to climb the wall. I saw him disappear under the wall, 
 and in a minute or two come out of the door of one of the old 
 sheds, which are used as dust-holes and wood-houses. Then 
 he got through the passage-window, as I had expected. I took 
 the opportunity, when everybody was out of the way, of exam- 
 ining the shed, and, after hunting about for a long time, I 
 found a sort of trap in one corner of a cupboard. It was so 
 well concealed, and the place was so dark, that if I hadn't been 
 sure that there must be such a thing somewhere about, I should 
 never have discovered it. On the other side of the trap there 
 was a narrow flight of stone steps that went quite through the 
 wall and came out under an archway across the ditch, which 
 looked like a drain. You might live fifty years in the house, and 
 never find it out." 
 
 " Well, that was a rum go," said Cressingham. " Did you 
 say anything about it to Temple ?" 
 
 " No," answered Burton. " It was several days before I 
 had an opportunity of examining the place, and the very day
 
 84 Who did it f 
 
 afterwards the blow-up about Charlie took place. I heard he 
 had promised not to go out again, and I thought it best to say 
 nothing about it, or it might have got him into a fresh scrape." 
 
 " I think you were right, Clem. It would be better to keep 
 it secret as long as Temple is here, at all events. By-the-bye, 
 talking of secrets, I wish you would tell me all about George 
 Alford. I was going to ask you about him on that day when 
 we fell in with those two fellows on the Quoits. I used to like 
 Alford very much, and should like to hear why he was taken 
 away, and where he is, and what he is doing, if you don't mind 
 telling me." 
 
 Burton answered that he had no objection to satisfy his 
 friend's curiosity, and he proceeded at once to do so. We do 
 not propose to repeat the conversation which ensued, but to 
 put the information given into the form of a connected narra- 
 tive, which will embrace Burton's early history, as well as 
 Alford's. 
 
 Clement Burton was an orphan. He had only one near 
 relative living, his father's unmarried sister. His father had 
 offended his family by a marriage they disapproved, and he had 
 been left to depend wholly on his pay for the support of his 
 wife and child. In the sixth year of his residence in India he 
 had been killed in a skirmish with some Sikhs, and his wife, 
 who had been in very weak health for some years past, did not 
 long survive the shock. Clement, the only child, was left with- 
 out any provision, and was sent home to his aunt, his only rela- 
 tive. Miss Burton, who had succeeded to the property which 
 should have been her brother's, received the little orphan, and 
 undertook the care of him, though not very graciously. She was 
 residing at this time in Wickfield, where she occupied a comfort-
 
 A Retrospect. 85 
 
 able house. Clement was sent, when eight years old, to the only 
 school which the little town contained, and there made acquaint- 
 ance with George Alford, a boy about his own age. George 
 was the son of Colonel Alford, an officer who had taken part 
 in the ill-fated Walcheren expedition, and had a narrow escape 
 from the Walcheren fever, to which so many of his companions 
 in arms had fallen victims. The doctors shook their heads 
 over him, and pronounced that he was not only unfit for active 
 service, but doubted if he ever would be fit again. Wickfield 
 was recommended as a suitable place of residence for him, the 
 air being mild and soft, and he took up his abode there accord- 
 ingly. He had not long been married to his second wife, one 
 of the young ladies who had been sent out from England as 
 was the common practice in those days to take the chances 
 of the matrimonial market. He had needed a mother for 
 George, and had been fain to take Miss Oldfield, not from any 
 profound respect or admiration, but because she appeared the 
 most eligible of those among whom his choice lay. So far as 
 George was concerned, at all events, he had better have re- 
 mained unmarried. She early took a dislike to the boy, whose 
 warm recollections of his own mother offended her self-esteem, 
 and whose high spirit set her at defiance. Colonel Alford saw 
 that he had made a mistake, but, like a wise man, made the 
 best of it, endeavouring to make up to his son, by his own per- 
 sonal affection, for his stepmother's coldness. 
 
 But the boy found his home an unhappy one, and was glad 
 instead of sorry when the day came which transferred him to 
 Mr Robson's school. Even if it had been otherwise, the 
 friendship which he formed with young Burton would soon 
 have reconciled him to his new situation.
 
 86 Who did it f 
 
 As is commonly the case with strong friendships, the char- 
 acters of the two boys were different. Clement was a quiet, 
 and, though by no means wanting in ability, rather a plodding 
 boy, single-hearted, and affectionate. George was clever, high- 
 spirited to an extent that bordered on lawlessness, warm- 
 hearted withal, and capable of strong attachment. He was 
 frequently involved in small scrapes, and sometimes in more 
 serious ones. In all these Clement did his best to extricate 
 him, frequently to his own personal loss and discredit ; for all 
 which he was requited by increased devotion on his com- 
 panion's part. The one point of resemblance between them, 
 that both lacked the mother's love, for the loss of which 
 nothing can atone to children, formed a bond between them, 
 which would have been enough in itself to cement their friend- 
 ship. The beginning of it might be said to date from an inci- 
 dent which occurred very shortly after their admission to Mr 
 Robson's school. It was a wet afternoon, and Alford and 
 Burton, who were both day-boys (as indeed were nearly all Mr 
 Robson's scholars), and who chanced to live at a greater dis- 
 tance from the school than the other pupils, were ordered to 
 stay behind after lessons until the rain had abated. Finding 
 the atmosphere of the schoolroom of the dullest, young Burton 
 took a ball from his pocket, and invited his companion to play 
 at catch -ball with him. Alford complied, but after a quarter of 
 an hour's play, George found the game dull, and began to vary 
 it by throwing the ball at his companion. Clement warned him 
 that he would do some mischief, but the other only replied by 
 calling him a muff, and pelting him with the ball more vigor- 
 ously than before. At last he noted through the window that 
 the sky was again clear, and discharging one final shot at his
 
 A Retrospect. 87 
 
 staid school-fellow, he opened the door and betook himself 
 homewards. This parting discharge proved as fatal as the 
 arrows of the Parthians are said to have been. It struck a bronze 
 figure of Giles Chinnock, the founder of Wickfield Grammar 
 School, which occupied the place of honour at the east end, 
 and brought it down, bracket and all, with a crash, which it 
 was wonderful that George did not hear as he raced along the 
 school-yard. 
 
 It did reach, however, the ears of the schoolmaster, as 
 he sat in his study, looking over the longs and shorts of the 
 first-class boys. He forthwith hastened into the schoolroom, 
 where he found Clement endeavouring to replace the bracket 
 by the help of the school-poker, which he was using as a ham- 
 mer. Mr Robson's anger was greatly roused. If there was 
 one thing that he valued more than another, it was this bronze 
 figure of old Chinnock, a venerable bishop, who had lived 
 some five hundred years before, and whose connection with the 
 school bestowed upon it the prestige of antiquity. He angrily 
 inquired of Clement how this had happened, and was not molli- 
 fied by being simply assured that it was an accident. 
 
 " An accident," he exclaimed, his eye lighting on the ball, 
 which still lay on the floor. " You have been throwing that ball 
 about the school, I suppose, and that has knocked it down." 
 
 He looked at Burton, and reading no denial in his face, and 
 receiving none in words, went on 
 
 " I shall take care that you are properly punished for this, 
 Burton. You will write out for me ten pages of the Greek 
 Grammar, and I shall send you home with a note to your 
 aunt begging her to stop your pocket-money until the expense 
 of replacing the bracket has been paid for. I am glad to see
 
 88 Wlwdidit? 
 
 that the figure is not broken, or it would be a much more 
 serious matter." 
 
 Burton made no rejoinder, and was despatched homewards 
 ten minutes afterwards with the threatened note. Clement 
 wrote out the imposition, and delivered it to the head-master 
 immediately after his arrival on the following morning. In 
 the interim the carpenter had been sent for, who replaced 
 Giles Chinnock in his former position, and nobody but Mr 
 Robson and Clement himself knew anything of what had taken 
 place. 
 
 But a day or two afterwards Alford reminded his friend of 
 an engagement they had made to go out for a row on the 
 Spene with one of the watermen, who kept a few pleasure- 
 boats at the Bridge Wharf. 
 
 " I'm sorry to say I can't go, George," said Burton ; " that 
 is, unless you've got the money to pay for it" 
 
 " I got the money to pay for it ! " exclaimed Alford. " Why, 
 you know, Clem, that I'm never allowed any money now. 
 Why, you know, Clem, when we talked of going out in the 
 boat, I told you that I'd no money, and you said that your 
 aunt always allowed you two shillings a week, and the boat 
 wouldn't come to more than that" 
 
 " I know I did," returned Burton ; " but I can't pay the 
 money now." 
 
 " Oh ! if you've changed your mind," said Alford in an 
 offended tone, " that is a different matter. I'm sure I don't 
 want you to pay anything you don't like for me." 
 
 So saying, and not waiting to hear the explanations that his 
 companion was trying to offer, he hurried off in great dudgeon, 
 and would hardly speak to Clement for the next few days.
 
 A Retrospect. 89 
 
 But it chanced in the ensuing week that there came another 
 wet half-holiday, and the usher suggested that Master Alford 
 and Master Burton should again stay in the schoolroom until 
 the weather cleared. 
 
 " Stay in the schoolroom," repeated Mr Robson. " Well 
 then I must beg you, Mr Simcox, to stay there along with 
 them, that is, if Burton is one of them. It was only last Wed- 
 nesday that he was throwing a ball about, and knocked down 
 the founder's bust It was a wonder it was not broken. By 
 the way, Burton, your aunt has sent me the money to pay the 
 carpenter. It was six shillings. I hope she has stopped your 
 allowance to make it good, as I requested her to do. Has 
 she done so ? " 
 
 " Yes, sir," answered Burton in a low voice. 
 
 " Knocked down the bronze figure, there ! " exclaimed Al- 
 ford, stepping forward. " Was it knocked over last Wednes- 
 day, sir, when Clement and I were left in the schoolroom after 
 lessons ? " 
 
 " When Burton was left there," replied Mr Robson. " I 
 didn't know you had been there with him." 
 
 " Oh, if you please, sir, he didn't do it I remember I threw 
 the ball rather high as I ran away, and I did fancy I heard a 
 noise of something falling. But I forgot all about it Please 
 to ask Clement, sir, if it isn't so." 
 
 " You hear what George Alford tells me," said Mr Robson, 
 turning with some surprise to Burton. " Is he correct ? " 
 
 " He did knock it down, sir," said Clement, " but it was a 
 mere accident. He didn't see where he was throwing. And, 
 if you please, sir, as the carpenter has been paid, and I did 
 the imposition, I hope you won't punish George."
 
 90 Who did it f 
 
 " Punish George," returned Mr Robson, laying his hand on 
 Burton's head. " No, my boy, I will not punish him, if it is 
 only for your sake. And I'll call on Miss Burton this after- 
 noon, and tell her what has happened." 
 
 " Oh, Clement, how could you do it ? " exclaimed Alford, as 
 they passed through the streets of Wickfield on their way to 
 their several homes. " And that's why you had no money, 
 too, and wouldn't go out in the boat. I shall never forgive 
 myself. Come in here, Clem," he continued, as they arrived 
 at the gate of the Colonel's house. " Come in, I must tell my 
 father about it." 
 
 Overcome by his companion's impetuosity, Burton allowed 
 himself to be dragged into Colonel Alford's study, George 
 pouring forth a narrative of what had taken place, and entreat- 
 ing his father to give him the money to replace that part of 
 Clement's allowance which had been already stopped. 
 
 Colonel Alford looked at his son's open and animated face 
 with glistening eyes. Then forcing a smile, he said, "You 
 ought to repay Master Burton, of course, George. But why 
 don't you do so out of your own pocket-money ? " 
 
 " My pocket-money, father ! " exclaimed the boy in sur- 
 prise. " I never have any now. Mamma told me I wasn't to 
 have any more." 
 
 The Colonel looked surprised, and was on the point, appa- 
 rently, of making some angry remark. But he checked him- 
 self, and, after a moment or two of reflection, took out his 
 purse and gave each of the boys a crown-piece. " Your mother 
 misunderstood me, George," he said ; " and as you have been 
 kept so long without money, this to make up for it ; and you, 
 Burton, must accept this as a present from me. George, I
 
 A Retrospect. 91 
 
 hope you will bring your friend home here on holidays, when- 
 ever he likes to come." 
 
 It was hard to say to which of the two lads this permission was 
 the more acceptable. Clement's aunt, as we have seen, though 
 not absolutely unkind, was cold and distant in her manner, 
 and evidently regarded the nephew, whom an unlucky chance 
 had forced upon her, as an encumbrance, of which she would 
 willingly be rid. Her house was no home to him ; but what 
 was wanting there was found in Colonel Alford's family. The 
 Colonel himself took a great fancy to the lad, showing him 
 warm and unvarying kindness. Mrs Alford, though not so 
 gracious, always welcomed him civilly. What her husband 
 had said to her, no one but themselves knew, but it had the 
 effect he desired. She thenceforth always treated her step-son 
 with a show, at all events, of kindness. She was a clever 
 woman, and, perceiving she had gone too far, used her best 
 efforts to efface the unfavourable impression she had made, 
 and, it may be added, succeeded in doing so, so far as her 
 husband was concerned. 
 
 So matters went on for two years or so, until the boys had 
 attained the age of twelve, when an accident occurred which 
 might have proved dangerous. The Spene, it should be men- 
 tioned, was a broad river, and though deep for many miles near 
 Wickfield, contained a number of islands, which were covered 
 at high water, and sunken rocks which rendered it very dangerous. 
 It was long before Colonel Alford would allow the boys to go 
 out upon it, unless accompanied by a waterman, even in the 
 heavy boats, which it was extremely difficult to overset. They 
 did at last, however, obtain the desired permission, and eager 
 to avail themselves of their newly-acquired privilege, set out the
 
 92 Who did it? 
 
 very day after the leave had been granted for a long row up- 
 stream, though the day was ungenial and the sky threatened 
 a storm. Having rowed a considerable distance, they found 
 the day-light begin to fail. Aware now of their imprudence, 
 they turned round and began rowing homewards. But a storm 
 was evidently near at hand. The darkness gathered fast, and 
 presently there came a deluge of rain, together with a succes- 
 sion of furious gusts, which nearly overturned the boat. The 
 swell caught Clement's oar. He was knocked backwards, and 
 the oar went overboard. The boat now became quite un- 
 manageable, and was swept along by the wind and tide past 
 the town, Alford shouting in vain for help. They were already 
 abreast the last of the wharfs, and would soon have been carried 
 out towards the sea, when Alford's cries were at last answered 
 by a distant hail, and presently the welcome sound of oars 
 was heard through the darkness, and a boat ran up along- 
 side. 
 
 " Hallo, boys ! " said the occupant of the boat, " how do you 
 come to be out alone on a night like this ? You shouldn't 
 venture out in a boat, specially in this weather, if you can't 
 manage her." 
 
 " One of the oars has gone overboard," said George, a little 
 affronted at this address, " and my friend has hurt himself, or 
 we could have managed her well enough." 
 
 " Well, you'd better let me come into your boat, which is a 
 good bit bigger than mine," said the man. " We can row her 
 in between us, and I'll fasten mine to yours." 
 
 They soon reached the shore, after which George inquired 
 the boatman's name. He had no money with him then, he
 
 A Retrospect. 93 
 
 said, but he should like to come down to-morrow, and pay 
 him for his services. 
 
 But the boatman would not tell him. " I don't want no 
 pay, sir, thank you," he said, " for saving your life, 'tis no 
 no more than a man's duty, and I should be ashamed to take 
 money for doing it." 
 
 George thanked him ; and Clement by this time having re- 
 covered his senses, they wended their way home together. 
 They made several attempts to discover their deliverer's name 
 and residence, but for a long time without success. 
 
 At last it happened one bitter cold day in the January fol- 
 lowing that the two lads went out to skate on a piece of water, 
 which had been formed by the overflowing of the river, beyond 
 the town on the seaward side. It was a spot they had never 
 visited before, and returning home after an afternoon's skating, 
 they got entangled in a labyrinth of narrow lanes, some of 
 which were flooded with half-frozen water. The night was 
 dark, there being neither moon nor stars. At length they 
 found themselves on the banks of the river near a pile of de- 
 serted, and apparently half-ruinous, buildings. Looking round 
 them in all directions, they at last perceived a light at a short 
 distance, and came upon a small cottage almost hidden by 
 trees. They knocked at the door, but for some time received 
 no answer. At last a feeble step was heard descending the 
 staircase, and a sickly-looking woman with a rush-light in her 
 hand opened the door. 
 
 " What do you want ? " she said. " If it's money or victuals, 
 we haven't none to give you." 
 
 " We have been out skating," said Alford, " and have lost 
 our way. We want you to tell it us."
 
 94 WJw did it f 
 
 " Come in, sir," said the woman in an altered tone. 
 " There's no one here can go with you, but I daresay 
 John will be able to direct you, if you tell him where you 
 live." 
 
 The two boys entered the house, glad to obtain a respite 
 from the cold and darkness outside. On a low pallet-bed 
 placed before the fire, an old man was lying, whom George at 
 once recognised, notwithstanding his wan and wasted appear- 
 ance, as the man who had rescued them on the night of their 
 adventure on the Spene five months before. 
 
 " Why, you're the fellow," he exclaimed, "whom we've been 
 on the look-out for ever so long. Don't you remember com- 
 ing to help us one evening last August, when we were adrift in 
 the Nautilus, and had lost an oar. Wherever have you been 
 hiding that we couldn't find you ? " 
 
 " I remember you quite well, sir," returned the man ; " and 
 'taint no wonder as you couldn't find us. We've had nothing 
 but sickness ever since. First of all, my wife here took the 
 fever. She was down with it three months or more ; least- 
 ways she couldn't leave her bed for three months good, and 
 then I was took worse than she was, and I can't get about 
 yet." 
 
 " Can'i the doctor do you any good ? " asked Clement. 
 
 " Doctor, young gentleman ? We can't afford to pay no 
 doctor ; we can't provide ourselves with victuals and drink, 
 let alone physic. The baker and grocer wont trust us no 
 more." 
 
 " Why don't you ask for relief from the parish ? " asked 
 Clement, who had picked up some information about such 
 matters.
 
 A Retrospect. 95 
 
 " The parish ? no sir. I'll never come upon the parish, as 
 sure as my name's John Bowles. Ah, if my lads had stayed 
 at home, as I wanted 'em to, we should never have come to 
 this." 
 
 " Your two sons ? " said Alford. " What has become of 
 them ? " 
 
 " They went to sea for seven year," replied the old man, 
 with a sigh. " It were four year ago, four year come Lady 
 Day. They may come back in three year, but they mayn't 
 find their old father and mother alive if they do." 
 
 " What did they go to sea for ? " asked Burton. 
 
 " Why, you see the times was hard. They used to work 
 in the building yard close by, and got good wages. But when 
 that was shut up, they was thrown out. I wanted them to stay 
 and work with me as watermen. But they thought they'd 
 do better for us all by going to sea. Half their wages was to 
 have been sent to us, and so they were for two year and more. 
 But now we're told they've gone into another ship, or some- 
 thing ; anyway, the wages don't come. But you young 
 gentlemen want to be told your way home, don't you ? Tell 
 me where you live, and I daresay I shall be able to direct 
 you.'.' 
 
 " I live at Pomona Villa," said Burton, " if you know 
 where that is." 
 
 " And I at No. 4 East Street," said Alford. 
 
 " I know East Street," said Bowles. " It's about a mile 
 from here. You must go straight on till you reach the corner 
 of the Walescliff Road. Then turn to the right and go on for 
 nearly half-a-mile, then you'll find yourself at the entrance of 
 the High Street, and that "
 
 96 Who did it? 
 
 " When we get to the High Street, it'll be all right," said 
 Alford. "Thank you, Mr Bowles, and here's half-a-crown 
 that we always meant to give you for helping us that night. 
 You must take it, please." He laid it down on the bed as he 
 spoke. " Now, good-night. Clem and I will come and see 
 you again before long."
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 THE LION. 
 
 THE two boys did not fail to plead on behalf of old Bowles 
 with their friends, and their representations were attended 
 with success. Colonel Alford knew something of the old 
 man, who had done one or two odd jobs for him ; and Miss 
 Burton, whatever might be her faults, never refused to help 
 any case of real distress. Broth, and wine, and proper medi- 
 cines were sent down to the cottage, and the services of the 
 doctor called in. The patient soon began to mend, and in 
 two months' time was able to resume his usual employment. 
 He was very grateful to his two friends, and during the 
 ensuing summer, often took them out in his boat into the 
 estuary of the Spene, where there was first-rate fishing. He 
 would have refused all payment, if the boys would have per- 
 mitted it ; but they told him he must take the customary 
 charge for the hire of his boat, or they would not go out with 
 him. During these expeditions his ordinary talk was about 
 his sons, of whom he had at last heard something. They had 
 gone on board a whaling ship, and were to pass one or two 
 winters in the Northern seas, after which they hoped to 
 return with money enough to set them all up in business. 
 
 G
 
 98 Who did it? 
 
 " They are good lads, young gentlemen," he would often say, 
 " Tom and Bill, particlarly Tom. He never did any one 
 no wrong, and was always kind to his father." 
 
 The boys would have thoroughly enjoyed their summer if it 
 had not been for one drawback. This was the resolution 
 which Miss Burton had formed forthwith of leaving Wickfield 
 and residing for the future in the neighbouring town of Wales- 
 cliffe. The cause of this determination was a quarrel between 
 her and her next door neighbour, one Mr Wilcoxon, a widower, 
 who had recently come to reside in Wickfield, and had rented 
 the semi-de*tached villa immediately adjoining her own. Mr 
 Wilcoxon was a middle-aged, rather handsome man, well- 
 dressed, and with an address which passed with most people for 
 good breeding. No one knew exactly who he was, or where he 
 came from. There were of course all sorts of stories current 
 respecting him. He was the son of an attorney in Sheffield, 
 according to one report, and his father had made a fortune, of 
 which Mr Wilcoxon was the sole inheritor. According to 
 another, the parent in question had been a working-man, who 
 had raised himself to affluence by some invention which he 
 had patented, and had been careful to give his son a good 
 education. A third rumour said that Mr Wilcoxon was not an 
 Englishman by birth, but had come from the United States, 
 thinking he could employ his money better in England. As 
 usual there was some truth in every one of these reports, but 
 more error. He was, in truth, the son of a country attorney, 
 who had emigrated to the States, finding himself unable to 
 make a living at home. He had settled in New York, 
 where he had been fortunate in his speculations, and 
 had bequeathed a considerable fortune to his only son, who
 
 The Lion. 99 
 
 had thereupon returned to England, resolving to establish him- 
 self in business wherever he might find a suitable opening. 
 Visiting Wickfield, he was struck with the commercial advan- 
 tages of its situation, the cheapness of the living, and the low 
 rate of wages paid to journeyman. He saw that if a factory 
 should be built at Wickfield, its owner might supply the Lon- 
 don market at a cheaper rate than any of the manufacturing 
 towns. It would be the very place in which to employ his 
 capital. He resolved to reside there for a short time at all 
 events, and endeavour to arrange his schemes. In this pur- 
 pose he engaged a house which, unluckily for Miss Burton, 
 chanced to be No. i Pomona Villas. 
 
 Of all the ingenious contrivances for setting neighbours by 
 the ears, none have ever been devised equal to semi-detatched 
 villas. I suppose there have been found people so possessed 
 with the spirit of peace and long-suffering, that they could live 
 in two of these brick and mortar twins without either an open or 
 a smouldering quarrel. Indeed, Miss Burton and her original 
 neighbour, a blind and deaf paralytic old gentleman, did so 
 live for a period of no less than six years \ but mainly, it is to 
 be feared, because the old gentleman in question was wholly 
 unconscious of his neighbour's doings, or, indeed, that he had 
 any neighbour at all. Miss Burton might batter away at her 
 piano, as she was sometimes wont to do, through the whole 
 forenoon, and provoke no message that her neighbour had a 
 bad headache and could not bear any noise that morning. 
 She might give a musical party, or even a dance, protracted to 
 a late hour, and poor old Mr Wilkinson was in no way aware 
 that any festivity was in progress. She might even keep 
 Brahmapootras and Houdins in the garden behind the house
 
 ioo Who did it? 
 
 without eliciting remonstrance. But when Mr Wilkinson was 
 carried to his rest in the churchyard, and Mr Wilcoxon took 
 his place, a different state of things ensued. There was not 
 much difference in the names, Miss Burton was wont to remark 
 to her friends, but a great deal of difference in the men. 
 
 Mr Wilcoxon did not, indeed, at first interfere with her. It 
 was his cue to make himself as acceptable as he could to his new 
 fellow-townsmen; and Miss Burton was a personage of some im- 
 portance in Wickfield. He endeavoured to make his way in to her 
 good graces, fastening upon Clement as the best mode of ac- 
 complishing his object. He had a son near about young 
 Burton's age, whom he had sent to Mr Robson's school. One 
 day Mr Wilcoxon planned an excursion to the Green Holm, an 
 island lying, as the reader has heard, in the estuary of the Spene. 
 It was to consist chiefly of young people, George Alford among 
 others, who were to picnic on the island, and return to a dance 
 at his house in the evening. He paid his respects to Miss 
 Burton, inviting Clement to make one of the party. He had 
 intended to add, if his overtures had been favourably received, 
 that he hoped Miss Burton herself would do him the honour 
 to look in during the evening. But the lady, who entertained 
 a most aristocratic disdain of all persons who were not well 
 known in the neighbourhood, and who further regarded it as 
 a kind of impertinence that one of these should have pre- 
 sumed to take up his abode next door to herself, put on her 
 very iciest manner, and declined in a very few words the invita- 
 tion for her nephew. 
 
 Mr Wilcoxon " had the passions of his kind," and resented, 
 after his own fashion, the affront he had received. Miss Burton 
 presently received notice that "the neighbours" had complained
 
 The Lion. 101 
 
 of the noise made by her fowls, which disturbed their sleep. 
 Her favourite cat disappeared, and Martha, her henchwoman, 
 was confident that it had been " shot by that there young 
 Wilcoxon, with his nasty bows and arrows." To the same 
 cause were referred the frequent breakages of the greenhouse 
 windows. It was a long time before she could bring herself 
 to address a note to her plebeian neighbour, and when at last 
 she did so, she reaped but small advantage from the step. 
 Mr Wilcoxon sent his compliments. He knew nothing of the 
 matters to which Miss Burton referred, nor did any of his 
 household. " Mr Wilcoxon could not but add, that the in- 
 cessant playing on her piano, which was distinctly audible in 
 his drawing-room, was a more serious annoyance than any 
 which Miss B. complained of." 
 
 The good lady consulted her solicitor, Mr Knyvett, but 
 received the unwelcome assurance that he was afraid she 
 would find it very difficult to bring Mr Wilcoxon within the 
 clutches of the law. He knew too well what he was about to 
 get himself into trouble. The only thing Miss Burton could 
 do, he feared, would be to change her house, and as her lease 
 would be up at Lady Day, that could easily be managed. No 
 doubt some other house could be found in Wickfield, which 
 would suit as well. 
 
 Miss Burton agreed to the first half of his suggestion, but 
 not to the other. She was willing to quit Pomona Villa, but 
 she was resolved not to remain in Wickfield. The same town 
 could not contain her and Mr Wilcoxon. Finding that her 
 determination was fixed, Mr Knyvett suggested the neighbour- 
 ing fishing town of Walescliff, as a desirable place of abode. 
 There were several nice houses there, to his knowledge, now
 
 IO2 Who did it? 
 
 standing vacant ; there was also a first-rate school, Dr Thorn- 
 ton's of Holmwood Priory, to which Clement might be sent. 
 Miss Burton approved of these suggestions, only stipulating 
 that Clement should go as a boarder to Dr Thornton's school, 
 as she wanted more quiet in the house. 
 
 The matter accordingly was so arranged, and with such 
 expedition, that the Wickfield people heard of Miss Burton's 
 approaching departure, almost before any of the particulars 
 of her differences with Mr Wilcoxon had been noised abroad. 
 Colonel Alford made an attempt to smooth matters between 
 the disputants. He called upon Mr Wilcoxon, whose ac- 
 quaintance he had already made at a public meeting, and 
 represented to him that Miss Burton was an old resident, and 
 a lady much respected in the town, to whom some considera- 
 tion was due. Mr Wilcoxon received the Colonel with the 
 greatest urbanity, declared that he had been much misunder- 
 stood, and was ready to do anything in reason for the sake of 
 peace. With this assurance, the Colonel next visited Miss 
 Burton, by whom he was welcomed with equal cordiality. 
 The Colonel's mission was a failure, Miss Burton having 
 already engaged the house at Walescliff; but it was not 
 without its results nevertheless. Miss Burton expressed herself 
 greatly obliged, and in reply to the Colonel's expression of 
 regret that his son and young Clement would be parted, said 
 she hoped the boys would meet frequently during the 
 holidays. Mr Wilcoxon returned the Colonel's visit, and 
 made so favourable an impression, that he thenceforth became 
 a favourite guest at Mrs Alford's table, winning the Colonel's 
 heart by his judicious praises of George. 
 
 Miss Burton's programme was carried out, with the consent
 
 The Lion. 103 
 
 of all parties, half the boy's vacations being passed at Wales- 
 cliff, and half at Wickfield ; and it was hard to say which 
 place the boys enjoyed most Wickfield with its lovely river 
 studded with green islets, or Walescliff with its rocky cliffs 
 and picturesque harbour, and its deep-sea fishing and bathing. 
 So happily passed two more years, but in the course of the 
 second summer an occurrence took place, which put a stop 
 to Clement's visits to Wickfield. 
 
 It chanced that the town was visited by a large travelling 
 menagerie, and George and his friends, Clement Burton and 
 Frank Knyvett, were among the earliest visitors. A large 
 crowd had assembled, which increased as the evening ad- 
 vanced. The glare of the lights, and the noise of a hundred 
 voices laughing, shouting, and cracking jests, excited some of 
 the animals to an extent, which provoked still further the 
 mirth of one part of the audience. One lion in particular, 
 which (as they afterwards learned), had been only recently 
 added to the menagerie, was in a state of furious excitement. 
 It tramped up and down the narrow area of its den, lashing 
 its sides with its tail, and showing its formidable range of 
 teeth. Every now and then it made a spring at the bars ; and 
 if they had not been very securely fastened, they must have 
 given way before it. 
 
 The boys, reckless as is ever their wont, were extremely 
 amused at the lion's abortive efforts to seize his tormentors. 
 On one of these occasions, his tail was thrust through the 
 bars, and hung down for more than a foot outside the cage. 
 
 With all the heedlessness of a schoolboy of fourteen, George 
 Alford caught hold of it with both hands, and tried to drag 
 the lion backwards up to the bars. Frank Knyvett and one
 
 IO4 Who did it? 
 
 or two more of his companions, who saw the manoeuvre, also 
 clutched hold of the tail, and their united strength was 
 for the moment sufficient to pull the animal towards them. 
 This roused the fury of the brute to the utmost. With a 
 terrific roar, the like of which the spectators had never heard 
 before, he wrenched his tail from their grasp, and turning 
 round, he sprang with his full force at them. A crash was 
 heard, as if the front of the cage was giving way. There was 
 a scream of horror on the instant, and the crowd rushed pell 
 mell through the open doorway, hustling and trampling on 
 one another, nor once remitting their exertions, until they 
 found themselves in the yard outside. 
 
 Clement, who had stood aloof, after vainly entreating 
 George to desist from his dangerous sport, rushed up to his 
 rescue, as soon as he perceived the peril in which his friend 
 was placed. He was knocked down by the crowd, and fell, 
 stunned and motionless, immediately under the bars of the 
 lion's den. No one noticed this mishap until the doorway 
 had been cleared of the mass of terrified fugitives, which had 
 choked it. Then one of the hindermost venturing to look 
 back, saw the boy lying in a swoon, almost immediately under 
 the claws of the lion, which was still striving with unabated 
 ferocity to break down the front of its cage. Clement's situa- 
 tion was evidently one of extreme danger. The oak rail into 
 which the iron bars had been inserted still resisted, but the 
 bars themselves had been bent in several places, and unless 
 something was done to prevent it, the savage brute would 
 soon force its way out. Frank Knyvett was too faint to 
 understand what was passing ; but George Alford, who had 
 been carried out in the tide of the runaways, no sooner heard
 
 "THE BRUTE RENEWED HIS EFFORTS." 
 
 Page 104.
 
 The Lion. 105 
 
 what was going on than he rushed back to the door, which 
 some of the crowd were endeavouring to secure. 
 
 " Let me pass," he cried, " I must go and bring Clement 
 out. Won't some of you fellows help me to carry him. He's 
 in a faint ? " 
 
 " You had better not attempt to go in there," observed one of 
 those whom he addressed, "if you do, you'll only provoke him to 
 break out all the sooner. The keepers are gone for their guns, 
 and will be here presently. When they come, we'll go in and 
 fetch the chap out. Better wait till then." 
 
 " Let me pass, will you ? " returned George, indignantly ; 
 " if none of you have pluck enough to help in saving a fellow's 
 life, let me go at all events." 
 
 He burst through the crowd and rushed in. They had been 
 right in saying his entrance would provoke the lion to still 
 greater fury, but George contrived to seize Burton by the legs 
 and drag him out of the monster's reach. The brute renewed 
 his efforts with increased fury, and would in a few seconds 
 more have torn down the bars, which were already yielding. 
 But at this moment three men armed with guns, entered the 
 menagerie, and one of them, fearlessly stepping up to the cage, 
 ordered the lion to retire into the inner den. The animal 
 knew the harsh tones of the keeper's voice, and the instinct of 
 habitual obedience prevailed over its rage. It crept slowly 
 away until it had disappeared from sight. The inner cage was 
 now secured, and the nearest blacksmith sent for to repair the 
 damage. 
 
 Clement was soon restored to consciousness, and carried 
 back, for he was still too exhausted to walk, to Colonel Alford's 
 house. When he was informed of all that had passed, his
 
 io6 Who did it? 
 
 gratitude to the friend who had so manfully risked his life for 
 him knew no bounds. George took it, after the fashion of 
 boys, with great coolness. 
 
 " Come, Clem," he said, " you're making a deal too much 
 of this matter. I don't suppose the brute would have broken 
 out, even if the keepers hadn't come in, and any way I should 
 have had you safe out of the way long before he could have 
 got free. And, to be sure, you don't think I could have let 
 you lie there and be chawed up by that beast, do you ? It was 
 my fault that he got savage at all, you know. Come, Clem, 
 let us hear no more of this ! Why, Frank would have done 
 the same if he hadn't fainted." 
 
 " I don't want to say any more, George," returned Burton, 
 " excepting only this, that I shall never forget what you did for 
 me to-day. If ever you are in danger or trouble of any kind, 
 you'll find that I have not forgotten it." 
 
 The affair excited a good deal of attention at the time, and 
 presently reached Miss Burton's ears, who thereupon declared 
 that she could not for the future allow Clement to run any 
 more such risks. Master Alford might be a very clever and 
 gentlemanly boy she had nothing to say against it. But it 
 was plain he was always dragging her nephew into mischief of 
 some kind, and was a very undesirable companion for him. 
 He had better pass his holidays for the future entirely at 
 Wickfield, and Clement must stay at home with her. 
 
 So the boys were parted, to their mutual regret, but after all 
 it proved to be only for a short time. Colonel Alford, whose 
 health had gradually improved during his residence at Wick- 
 field, at last found himself so completely restored, as to be fit 
 for active service again, and the stirring tales arriving by every
 
 Tlie Lion. 107 
 
 mail from the Spanish Peninsula rekindled the martial ardour, 
 which the melancholy experience of Walcheren had for the 
 time extinguished. 
 
 He went up to London and submitted himself to medical 
 examination, and this proving favourable, solicited permission 
 at the War Office to rejoin his regiment. This was obtained 
 without much difficulty, the regiment in question having suffered 
 severely in the capture of Badajos. He was much aided in 
 his arrangements by a relative of Mr Wilcoxon, who was one 
 of the principal army agents in London. On his return to 
 Wickfield to take leave of his wife and children, he warmly 
 expressed his thanks to Mr Wilcoxon, who had now become 
 an habitual visitor, and at Mrs Alford's request named him as 
 one of his executors in the will which he executed before 
 leaving England. 
 
 George saw his father depart with very mingled feelings. In 
 many ways it was a severe blow to him, the first he had ever 
 sustained, as he had lost his own mother when he was too 
 young to understand his loss. His father had been his con- 
 stant companion of his walks and rides, into whose ear he 
 could pour all his school-boy confidences, assured of his ready 
 and hearty sympathy. Now that Clement had been withdrawn 
 from Mr Robson's, he felt that he should be left solitary in- 
 deed. On the other hand, George shared the keen interest 
 that his father felt in the progress of the British arms in the 
 Peninsula. He could not grudge his father the opportunity, 
 which he knew he had long desired, of returning to active ser- 
 vice in the field, and he looked forward with all a boy's enthu- 
 siasm to the time when he himself should join him there. His 
 father had promised that as soon as he had completed his stay
 
 io8 Who did it? 
 
 at school, he would procure him a commission in his own 
 regiment. And it appeared not unlikely that time would come 
 before the close of the wars with Napoleon. His father's de- 
 parture appeared to him the necessary preliminary to the ac- 
 complishment of his wishes. George asked also, too, and 
 obtained a favour which went far to console him for his loss. 
 This was, that he might be removed from Mr Robson's school 
 and sent to Holmwood Priory instead. Colonel Alford per- 
 haps was keen enough to see that although of late years Mrs 
 Alford had treated George with all outward show of kindness, 
 she had no real regard for him, as George certainly had but 
 little for her. It would be quite as well that they should not 
 be thrown so continually together, as must be the case, if 
 George continued in Wickfield. It was some comfort to him 
 to remember that Mr Wilcoxon, in whose hands he had placed 
 much of his affairs, had always expressed the greatest partiality 
 for George. Indeed, it had been a desire to show him civility 
 which had caused the original quarrel with Miss Burton a year 
 or two before. 
 
 The Colonel accordingly sailed for Lisbon, and on the day fol- 
 lowing George was sent to Holmwood Priory. Two other boys 
 who play a leading part in this story arrived also on the same day 
 Stephen Graves and Charlie Temple. There was a curious 
 contrast in the manner in which the three presented themselves 
 at Holmwood. George arrived by the coach from Wickfield, 
 having no one but himself to look after him. Mrs Alford had 
 troubled herself no further about the matter than by sending 
 the butler down to pay the boy's fare, and see his luggage 
 duly put into the boot. Graves was attended by a servant in 
 livery, and came in his guardian's carriage, his luggage having
 
 TJie Lion. 109 
 
 been despatched on the previous day in a spring-cart. But 
 Charlie Temple was conveyed to Holmwood by his mother 
 and elder sister, who had travelled a considerable distance, and 
 incurred a considerable expense, which they were ill able to 
 afford, in order to make sure that he was comfortably housed. 
 
 They slept at the inn at Walescliff, and the next morning 
 took their leave of him with many urgent entreaties that he 
 would make the most of his opportunities. 
 
 " Your uncle has agreed to pay the expense of your school- 
 ing for the next four years, Charlie," she said, " and it was a 
 great deal more than any of us expected. If you distinguish 
 yourself at school, getting prizes, and a good report from your 
 master, it is possible that he may do something more for you. 
 It is not at all certain that he will, but there is a good chance 
 of it. On the other hand it is quite certain that unless you do 
 obtain these things, he will refuse to interest himself any further 
 in you." 
 
 " My uncle's an old screw," said Charlie ungraciously. 
 " There he is over at Bordeaux rolling up money, they say 
 faster than he can spend it, and has neither wife nor child to 
 give it to. Why should he grudge a little money to his eldest 
 nephew ? " 
 
 " Well, Charlie," said his mother smiling, " you know that 
 you are at present no prime favourite of his. I am afraid he 
 has not forgotten the tricks you played off upon him three 
 years ago, when he was induced to come and stay a week with 
 us. You know he went off on the third day, and has never 
 been persuaded to come again." 
 
 " Well, mother, I only powdered his wig with Stilton 
 cheese," said Charlie. " That wasn't anything so bad, surely."
 
 no Who did it? 
 
 " I don't know, Charlie. You had heard him say that he 
 couldn't abide the smell of cheese, and had begged me to send 
 it out of the room. You know how uncomfortable he was the 
 whole evening." 
 
 " So he was," assented Temple, bursting into a joyous laugh 
 at the recollection of the occurrence in question. " He 
 couldn't make it out for a long time. He kept insisting on it 
 that cheese had been brought into the room, and wouldn't 
 take your assurances that it wasn't so. I meant to have got 
 hold of his wig when he went up to bed and shaken the 
 cheese-powder out of it. But that sulky French valet of his 
 Alphonse, or whatever they called him he wouldn't keep the 
 secret, but went and told his master, and then he wrote you a 
 note, and went off before breakfast next morning. If ever 
 I come across that beastly sneak of a Frenchman " 
 
 " Hush, Charlie, no one was to blame but yourself. Al- 
 phonse is very much attached to his master. Frenchmen 
 don't understand English schoolboys, Charlie. He thought 
 of nothing but of the insult, as he considered it, which had 
 been offered to his master." 
 
 "Well, never mind him," said Charlie, impatiently. "I 
 don't suppose I shall come across him again, and I promise 
 you, mother, I won't powder anybody's wig with cheese here." 
 
 " No," said Mrs Temple, again smiling. " I should think 
 you had better not attempt anything like that ; I expect 
 Doctor Thornton or Mr Hepburn wouldn't content themselves 
 with simply writing a note to me about it. But seriously, you 
 must remember that your prospects for life are at stake, and 
 work hard and be steady and well-behaved. There's another 
 thing I have to speak to you about, too. Your father's old
 
 The Lion. \ \ \ 
 
 friend, Colonel Wilder, is living here in Walescliff, and his 
 son Harry, who is about your age, is living with him. The 
 Colonel, I believe, educates Harry himself. Now, I have no 
 doubt the Colonel will show you some kindness for your 
 father's sake. He'll ask you up to his house on holidays, and 
 if he likes you, may ask you to pass a week or so with him 
 during the summer. I hear that his son is something like 
 yourself, inclined to be mischievous. The Colonel, I know, 
 is a very particular man. You must be careful not to get 
 into scrapes with Harry Wilder." 
 
 "I'll be sure to behave myself, mother," said Charlie, 
 demurely. " I rather like the look of this place, and you 
 may go away quite happy without me." 
 
 Mrs Temple sighed, but she felt it was no use to say more, 
 and with a parting embrace took leave of her son.
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 GEORGE'S TROUBLES. 
 
 GEORGE ALFORD found his life at Holmwood in most 
 respects a great improvement upon his former school ex- 
 periences. The school was larger, the boys older and manlier 
 than those to whom he had been used. The premises, too, 
 were very superior to those at Wickfield. The schoolroom, 
 which had once been, as some said, the refectory, and others 
 the chapel of the Priory, was a lofty and spacious building. 
 The rooms of the monks made small but exceedingly snug 
 bedchambers. There was a famous cricket field, in which all 
 manner of games were wont to be played. Above all there 
 was the sea-shore, with its harbour completely land-locked, 
 in which there was good bathing and rowing and sailing ; as 
 well as the deep sea itself, upon which they were occasionally 
 allowed to go out under the care of experienced sailors. 
 Clement was as acceptable a companion as ever. He intro- 
 duced George to the friends he had made at Holmwood, 
 chief among whom were Cressingham and Lander. Side by 
 side these four boys shouldered their way up through the 
 school during the first two years of their residence there, 
 until they reached the second class. George continued to
 
 George s Troubles. 113 
 
 receive continual reports from his father, always full of stirring 
 interest. He had been slightly wounded at the great battle 
 of Vittoria, and was now Lieutenant-Colonel of his regiment. 
 He had been present at San Sebastian also, and expected to 
 receive the rank of Brigadier-General in the course of a few 
 weeks. These letters George used to read out to his three 
 friends in a corner of the playing field (where they had con- 
 structed a kind of arbour) to the great delight of himself and 
 his hearers. Sometimes the magnates of the school, even the 
 four seniors themselves, whom the juniors regarded with the 
 utmost awe and deference, would send for George, and ask 
 him to read out these despatches, which he did with great pride 
 and satisfaction. 
 
 The only drawback to his happiness was that he could not 
 enjoy Clement's society during the holidays. Miss Burton per- 
 sisted in her resolution not to permit Clement to visit Wick- 
 field. Indeed, as a report had now reached her ears that 
 the odious Mr Wilcoxon was in greater favour than ever in 
 East Street, she would have nothing more to say to any of the 
 Alford family. The two boys were obliged to console them- 
 selves as well as they could by retailing to one another, on the 
 first day of the new half-year, all that had taken place during 
 the holidays. There was generally a good batch of informa- 
 tion to be imparted by both parties. 
 
 " It has been precious dull at Wickfield, Clem," said George 
 on one oT these occasions. ' " If it hadn't been for the Bowles's, 
 I think I should have gone melancholy mad the Bowles's 
 and Frank Knyvett kept me alive." 
 
 " The Bowles's," repeated Clement. " Old Bowles and his 
 
 H
 
 ii4 Who did it? 
 
 wife, I suppose, eh ? The old lady usedn't to be such particu- 
 larly good company either." 
 
 " Old mother Bowles ! " exclaimed George. " No, I should 
 think not. I wasn't speaking of her. I was speaking of 
 Bowles's two sons. They have come home don't you know? 
 came home three or four months ago." 
 
 " No, I didn't know it," said Burton. " Old Bowles is 
 pleased at that, I should think." 
 
 " Pleased ? Yes, I should think he just was," returned 
 Alford. " He hadn't got over being jolly about it when I 
 went home. They had brought back a pot of money, and had 
 paid off the old man's debts and bought back the furniture he 
 had pawned, and they were all living together as comfortable 
 as any people I ever saw." 
 
 "Were the young fellows as jolly as their father ?" asked 
 Clement. 
 
 "Yes, regular chips of the old block," said George. "Tom 
 Bowles is the best fellow I ever came across; and Bill, too, is a 
 good sort of chap, though he's a bit cross-grained now and then. 
 They used to take me about almost every day sometimes to 
 fish at the Weirs down-stream, sometimes right out to sea. 
 We were out for hours together. Once we were out all night ; 
 at least we were out so late that I had to sleep at their house 
 for the rest of the night." 
 
 " Out all night ! " repeated Burton. " How did Mrs Alford 
 like that?" 
 
 " She didn't like it at all," said George. " There's no great 
 love lost between me and her, you know,Clem. Still, I shouldn't 
 have minded so much if she'd rowed me herself, but she got 
 that fellow Wilcoxon to do it, and I could not stand that."
 
 Georges Troubles. 115 
 
 " Wilcoxon ! " exclaimed Clement. " What has he got to 
 do with it ? " 
 
 " He thinks he has something," said Alford. " He came 
 round my father, somehow or other, before he went, and he 
 left some of his affairs in his hands. I am sure my father 
 didn't understand what kind of a fellow he really is, or he 
 wouldn't have done that." 
 
 " What is he doing in Wickfield ? There was some talk of 
 his building a factory or something of that kind there, wasn't 
 there?" 
 
 " Yes, he has bought up that old shipbuilding yard, close to 
 which the Bowles's live, you know." 
 
 " I know it," said Burton ; " that's where we lost our way 
 that night." 
 
 " Just so. He bought the yard for an old song, and has 
 turned it into a nail-factory. They say he's doing a roaring 
 business." 
 
 " How does Bowles like him for a neighbour ? " 
 
 " He doesn't like him at all," said George. " There's a very 
 unpleasant stench from the works sometimes, when the water 
 is a good deal fouled. Old Bowles threatened to go to law 
 with him if he didn't stop the nuisance. His sons having 
 come home with some money, would enable him to do so, you 
 see. Wilcoxon was very much taken aback, and lost his tem- 
 per, they said. He gave old Bowles so much offence, that 
 when afterwards he wanted to buy up Bowles's property to 
 enlarge his factory, the old man wouldn't let him have it at any 
 price." 
 
 " I didn't know that Bowles's cottage was his own property." 
 
 " It isn't, but Bowles has a long lease of it, and that's what
 
 H 6 Who did it? 
 
 he wont give up. Wilcoxon tried to come round him cun- 
 ningly, but he failed." 
 
 " What did he do ? " asked Clement. 
 
 " He went to old Bagster, the landlord, and offered him a 
 large sum for the place, if he could get the Bowles's out. 
 Bagster said he should be glad to accommodate Wilcoxon, but 
 he didn't see how he could get the Bowles's out, if they 
 wouldn't go. Wilcoxon, they say, asked him to let him see 
 a copy of Bowles's lease, and there he found that the tenant 
 was obliged to keep the premises in a complete state of repair. 
 ' You can get rid of him easily enough,' Wilcoxon said, when 
 he had read it. ' Bowles's house is in a very bad state, it 
 would cost more money than he has got to set it right. You 
 have nothing to do but to serve him with a notice to execute 
 the repairs required under the lease.' He didn't know at that 
 time, you see, about the young Bowles's having brought home 
 money. To his surprise the old man answered Bagster that 
 he was just on the point of ordering the repairs to be done, so 
 Wilcoxon took nothing by his motion." 
 
 " He was utterly floored in fact," suggested Burton. 
 
 " Well, not quite," returned the other. " There was a 
 clause in Bowles's lease, which enabled the landlord to raise 
 the rent if the property was improved. He gave old Bagster 
 his price for it, and then proceeded to make what he called 
 some improvements, built a wall all round, and a lot of out- 
 houses, and then insisted on Bowles paying a heavy rent for 
 these. The old chap went to Frank Knyvett's father and 
 told his story, and Knyvett said that if Bowles hadn't asked 
 that these improvements should be made, and Mr Wilcoxon 
 couldn't show that they were absolutely necessary, the tenant
 
 Georges Troubles. \ 1 7 
 
 couldn't be charged with them. So old Ironhead, as we call 
 him, was sold again." 
 
 " And I suppose he's pretty savage," suggested Clements. 
 
 " He may be inwardly," said Alford. " But he's too clever 
 a fellow ever to show that he's put out. He's as smooth as 
 oil always. But Bowles doesn't trust him. He says he's sure 
 he's up to some further dodge now, though for his part he 
 doesn't care what Mr Wilcoxon may do." 
 
 " I wonder how Mrs Alford can like him," observed Burton. 
 " I should have thought everyone would have hated a sneak 
 like that." 
 
 " Well, she does like him, that's certain," said George ; " she 
 consults him on all occasions. She can't engage a new ser- 
 vant, or alter one of the flower-beds in the garden, without 
 taking his advice." 
 
 " Is he civil to you, George ? " asked his schoolfellow. 
 
 " A deal too civil," said Alford. " Butter wouldn't melt in his 
 mouth when he speaks to me. It is all about the regard he 
 has for my mother, and the promise he had made to my father, 
 and the special interest he takes in myself, and all that sort of 
 thing. He doesn't get much change out of me. I think he's 
 beginning to find out that I'm not to be bamboozled." 
 
 " What was the last news from your father? " 
 
 " Oh, all right. My father has got his rank as Major- 
 General, and will be coming home before long. Three regi- 
 ments were sent from Paris to Ireland, but they are not to 
 stay there any length of time. At all events he'll come home 
 on leave in the spring, he says. I hope he'll make arrange- 
 ments about getting my commission as soon as he comes 
 home."
 
 n8 Who did it? 
 
 " Well, George, it will be great fun seeing you in your new 
 uniform," said Clement, smiling at his friend's eagerness, " but 
 I am afraid you wont get any fighting. Boney is shut up in 
 the Isle of Elba, and wont fight any more." 
 
 "Oh, there will be sure to be fighting somewhere," said 
 George. " They have got too well used to it on the Continent 
 to give it up just yet. Heigho ! I wish the spring would 
 come. I am getting tired of grinding at Latin and Greek and 
 the Rule of Three." 
 
 The spring did come ; but it did not bring General Alford, 
 as George had hoped. He had obtained the leave for which 
 he had applied, when suddenly came the news of Napoleon's 
 escape from Elba, and the armies of Europe were again called 
 into the field. All the regiments under General Alford's com- 
 mand were despatched in hot haste to Belgium, and the 
 General of course went with them. The most intense anxiety 
 was felt all over England. Nothing else was talked of in any 
 society except the approaching struggle. Napoleon had been 
 acknowledged as Emperor by the French people, had collected 
 an army not so numerous, it is true, as those with which he 
 had so often overwhelmed the great continental Powers, but 
 formidable nevertheless, because containing so large a propor- 
 tion of veteran troops. The Prussians who were opposed to 
 him were not thought equal to coping with him. Then there 
 was the Great Duke, who had never yet been defeated, but who 
 also had never yet measured swords with the Great Soldier of 
 the nineteenth century. The duel between these two re- 
 nowned champions was awaited with an intensity of interest 
 which only those who lived at that time could understand. 
 
 It will readily be believed that George Alford's whole
 
 George's Troubles. 119 
 
 thoughts were engrossed by it, and the joys of the cricket- 
 field were but tame in comparison. The General wrote 
 frequently to his son, knowing how anxious he would be to 
 hear from him. George heard of his arrival in Brussels, of 
 the gallant struggle at Quatre Bras, and of the advance to 
 Waterloo. The General's letter, dated the i;th of June, 
 informed his son that the Duke had taken up his position on 
 the heights of Mont Saint Jean, and that a pitched battle was 
 imminent on the following day. The excitement of the next 
 four-and-twenty hours was too great for description. George's 
 thoughts were so completely occupied by it, that he could turn 
 them to nothing else, and the masters, compassionating his 
 anxiety, passed over his shortcomings without notice. To- 
 wards evening a report was current in Walescliff, brought 
 down it was said by the mail from London, that a terrible 
 battle had been fought, and a great victory won by the 
 English. But it appeared to be nothing more than a mere 
 rumour ; and in those days so many rumours were rife, which 
 afterwards proved to be wholly unfounded, that people were 
 only half inclined to believe it. 
 
 On the following morning a visitor arrived for George, in 
 the person of Mr Wilcoxon. He had come to break the dis- 
 astrous intelligence of the terrible slaughter of the i8th, which, 
 it has been truly said, threw half England into mourning. 
 General Taylor had despatched a letter from the field to Mrs 
 Alford, informing her that her husband had been killed by 
 one of the last guns which the enemy had discharged, at the 
 very end of the battle, just as the charge of the Guards had 
 begun, which threw the enemy into irrecoverable disorder. His 
 death had been instantaneous, but he had before the battle
 
 120 WJtodidit? 
 
 informed General Taylor that he had made his will and all 
 other necessary arrangements, and requested his friend, in the 
 event of his death, to write to Mrs Alford. Mr Wilcoxon 
 went on to say that his mother wished him to return immedi- 
 ately to Wickfield. 
 
 The poor lad was utterly crushed by the blow. Youth is 
 ever sanguine, and the possibility of such a termination to his 
 father's career had never entered his thoughts. He made no 
 objection to his step-mother's proposal. The meeting 
 between himself and Mrs Alford was a cordial one; for though 
 she had not regarded her husband with the intensity of affec- 
 tion felt by George, she had nevertheless been sincerely 
 attached to him. During the summer holidays all went 
 quietly enough, nor was there any serious outbreak in those 
 which followed in December and January, though something 
 of the old feeling had before the end of the winter vacation 
 begun to show itself. Mr Wilcoxon was now frequently in 
 East Street ; George declared that he was always there, and 
 his dislike to that gentleman was by no means diminished by 
 the fact, that the latter had now in a great measure laid aside 
 the semblance of cordiality he had hitherto affected, and 
 adopted a tone which gave the lad still deeper offence. He 
 now avoided Mr Wilcoxon as much as possible, passing all 
 his time with the Bowles's, notwithstanding the open quarrel 
 between them and Mr Wilcoxon. Cold as the weather was, 
 he went out fishing and rowing with them every day, Frank 
 Knyvett occasionally joining the party. George left East Street 
 immediately after breakfast, only returning in time for the late 
 dinner. He received one or two hints, in the course of the 
 winter, that this constant companionship with Bowles was not
 
 George's Troubles. 121 
 
 agreeable to Mrs Alford. The man had behaved with great 
 insolence to her valued friend, Mr Wilcoxon. It did not 
 become any one nearly connected with her to uphold 
 him. 
 
 George paid no heed to these hints ; and when he came in 
 June for his summer holidays, Mrs Alford was obliged to 
 speak explicitly on the subject. 
 
 The lad answered, that if he was obliged to give up the 
 Bowles's, his life would be too dull for endurance. Except 
 Frank Knyvett, he had no one but them. 
 
 " I am sorry," she replied tartly, " that my house is so dis- 
 agreeable to you, but I do not know how it is to be helped. 
 The holidays at Holmwood, as you know, have only just 
 begun, and they will last for fully six weeks. You can't go 
 back to Walescliff till then, even if it should be thought desir- 
 able that you should return to Dr Thornton's at all." 
 
 "Return there!" repeated George. "I don't want to 
 return there. I don't think my father would have sent me 
 there last half. I am past seventeen, and he always intended 
 to apply for my commission, as soon as my seventeenth birth- 
 day came. I don't see why it should not be applied for at 
 once. General Taylor, you know, said in his letter, that it 
 would be a great satisfaction to him to do anything that 
 would show his respect for my father's memory. He could 
 get me a pair of colours, merely for the asking." 
 
 " Go into the army ! " exclaimed Mrs Alford, apparently 
 much surprised. " Do you imagine your father intended that 
 George?" 
 
 "Intended it !" repeated George, impetuously. "Why you 
 know, quite well, he intended it always intended it ! He
 
 122 Who did it? 
 
 has spoken to me about it a hundred times. He never 
 intended anything else." 
 
 " He never expressed any such intention to me," said Mrs 
 Alford. " I think you must be mistaken. However, I will 
 speak to Mr Wilcoxon on the subject. You know, of course, 
 that my income is greatly reduced by your father's death." 
 
 " The cost of the commission, even if it should have to be 
 paid for," said George, "will come out of my money, and not 
 yours." 
 
 " Your money," repeated Mrs Alford, "the money which 
 will be yours, you mean, if you should live to come of age. 
 But that will not be for several years yet to come ; and, mean- 
 while, the disposal of it does not rest with you. However, as 
 I said before, I will consult Mr Wilcoxon on the subject." 
 
 " Why is he to be consulted ?" cried George. " What have 
 I to do with him or he with me, that he is always to be med- 
 dling in my affairs ?" 
 
 " His right to meddle is, that he is the executor of your 
 father's will, and will be jointly with me, your guardian." 
 
 " I did not know that," exclaimed George, in a tone of 
 mingled surprise and dismay. " I don't think that can be so. 
 I never heard a hint of that before." 
 
 " I don't suppose your father thought it necessary to consult 
 you on the subject," said Mrs Alford. " But if you like to go 
 up to Mr Knyvett, your friend Frank's father, you may see a 
 copy of your father's will, and satisfy yourself on the subject." 
 
 George put on his hat, and went straight up to the attor- 
 ney's office. Mr Knyvett, whose name has been several times 
 mentioned, was a worthy man, the solicitor with the largest 
 practice in the neighbourhood. He was Miss Burton's man of
 
 Georges Troubles. 123 
 
 business, the reader will remember, as well as General Alford's, 
 and he had always been friendly with George. He received 
 him now with great kindness, but in reply to his anxious ques- 
 tions, was obliged to inform him that his step-mother had 
 stated the facts correctly. 
 
 "Your father left in rather a hurry, George," he said, " and 
 had no time to write to friends who lived at a distance, or he 
 might have chosen some one else. Mr Wilcoxon, too, had 
 done him some considerable service, and Mrs Alford was 
 particularly anxious that he should be executor." 
 
 Mr Knyvett glanced furtively at George's face as he said 
 this, and saw an expression of dissatisfaction overspread it as 
 he heard the words. 
 
 " I can't think what she can see in that Wilcoxon," he broke 
 out, hotly, "that she is always having him up at East Street. 
 I hate him, and he hates me, though he pretends he doesn't." 
 
 Mr Knyvett stepped to the door, and carefully closed it. 
 " That's unlucky, my lad," said he. " Look here, George, I 
 am not in the habit of telling secrets particularly not to boys 
 of your age. But I think you ought to know what I know 
 what everyone will know, in fact, before long. Can you guess 
 it, George ? " 
 
 " I suppose she is going to marry him," said George. " I 
 have thought it might not be for a long time, only that I can't 
 conceive it possible that she could do it. And then, I suppose, 
 he'll call himself my father, and order me about as he pleases. 
 I'll never call him so, at all events. And he may order me, 
 but I don't think he'll catch me obeying him." 
 
 " That is just what I want to speak to you about, George. 
 I have your father's will here. I didn't draw it, and it was
 
 124 Who did it? 
 
 sent to me sealed up, only to be opened after his death. But 
 I see the most complete powers are given under it to the 
 executors to invest your property, until you come of age, in 
 any way they think proper. Now, I daresay you have your 
 own views as to what profession you would like to follow " 
 
 " My father always meant me to be in the army," interposed 
 George. "Everyone knew that; my step-mother knew it 
 perfectly, I am sure, though she says she didn't." 
 
 " She says she didn't, eh ? Then depend upon it Mr Wil- 
 coxon says so too." 
 
 " Isn't there anything about it in the will, sir ? " said George, 
 anxiously, "or in any of his papers? He mentioned the 
 subject to me over and over again in his letters, but, unluckily, 
 I never kept them." 
 
 "Unluckily, indeed," repeated Mr Knyvett. "I won't 
 deceive you, George. There is very little chance of Mr Wil- 
 coxon's allowing you to go into the army, if it depends upon 
 him. He is a member of the Peace Society, and professes to 
 think all war wicked, and Mrs Alford will do whatever he 
 recommends. You asked just now whether there might not 
 be something on this subject in General Alford's papers. That 
 is certainly possible. But I have never seen his papers ; they 
 have always been in Mrs Alford's keeping." 
 
 "And she wouldn't bring them out, unless it suited her 
 purpose to do so," said George, bitterly. " Well, go on, sir, 
 you have something more to tell me." 
 
 " Yes, one or two things. I have reason to know, and you 
 ought to know it too, that Mr Wilcoxon contemplates invest- 
 ing your money in a different manner. He wants to put it 
 into the business in which he himself is engaged."
 
 George's Troubles. 125 
 
 " What, the nail factory ? " exclaimed George. " That place 
 that he has built down by old Bowles's cottage ? You don't 
 mean he wants to put my money into that ? " 
 
 " He does though," said Mr Knyvett. " He says that it is 
 not only the best possible mode of employing your money, but 
 the best opening in life for yourself also. He means to appoint 
 you to a clerkship in the factory, and in time, if you give 
 satisfaction, to a junior partnership." 
 
 " I won't do it," shouted George, passionately. " I'll run 
 away, and enlist as a common soldier first ! Can't he be pre- 
 vented in any way from doing it, sir ? " 
 
 " Hem," said Mr Knyvett, " not by your running away and 
 enlisting, George, certainly. Well, Mr Wilcoxon is not the sole 
 executor ; there are two." 
 
 " Ah, but I suppose my step-mother is the other," suggested 
 George, despondently. 
 
 " No," returned Mr Knyvett. " The other executor is a 
 gentleman with whom I am not acquainted, though possibly 
 you may be. It is a certain Major Baynton. Do you know 
 him?" 
 
 " Know him," cried George, joyfully. " I should think I 
 did. He is the best fellow that ever lived. My father and I 
 went to stay with him nearly all the summer holidays two years 
 ago. It will be all right now. He knows my father's wishes 
 about my going into the army as well as I do myself. He 
 won't let old Wilcoxon bully me. Hooray, hooray ! I'll write 
 a letter to him immediately, or perhaps you wouldn't mind 
 doing so, sir ? " 
 
 " Stop a minute, George ; you're getting on too fast. Major 
 Baynton is named executor, but no one knows where Major
 
 126 Who did it? 
 
 Baynton is. He sailed with his regiment for the United States 
 of America, when the war broke out between us and them, 
 and was present at the battle of New Orleans, where we got so 
 sharply handled by the Yankees. He has never been heard 
 of since that day. His name was not in the Gazette among 
 the killed or wounded, but he was reported as missing. I have 
 never had any reply to the letter which I addressed to New 
 Orleans on the chance of finding him, immediately after your 
 father's death. He may have been severely wounded, and be 
 still lying in one of the hospitals in New Orleans. But I fear 
 the chances are that he is dead." 
 
 " Hasn't he any friends in England, sir, who would know 
 about him ? " 
 
 " None, so far as I can ascertain," replied the lawyer. " Well 
 now, George, I have told you this in order that you may 
 understand exactly what your position is. If Major Baynton 
 is really dead, you are wholly in Mr Wilcoxon's power " 
 
 " That I never will be," broke in the lad impetuously. 
 
 " Be quiet. Mr Wilcoxon professes to feel quite certain 
 that he is now the sole executor. I will do all I can to find 
 out whether the Major is still living. Meanwhile, I earnestly 
 advise you to do nothing to provoke your step-mother. Of 
 course you will say nothing to any one of your interview with 
 me." 
 
 George promised, and withdrew. He obeyed Mr Knyvett's 
 instructions so far, that he did not reveal what had passed to 
 any one, except his friend Clement, from whom he could keep 
 nothing secret. But he was unwise enough to attempt a re- 
 monstrance with his step-mother, in the course of which he 
 spoke in such terms of Mr Wilcoxon as roused that lady to a
 
 Georges Troubles. 127 
 
 pitch of anger which she rarely displayed. She told him that 
 her house would no longer be open to him, unless he treated 
 his future father with the respect due to him. As for the em- 
 ployment of George's money in the manner contemplated by 
 Mr Wilcoxon, George ought to be grateful to him for the kind 
 consideration shown him, notwithstanding his insolence and 
 ingratitude. If he did not choose to take the clerkship so 
 kindly offered to him, he might go without it. Neither she 
 nor her future husband would in that case trouble themselves 
 any further about him. For her part she had already put up 
 with more from him than from any other person in the world, 
 and she was resolved to endure no more. 
 
 They parted in mutual anger, and the same evening Mrs 
 Alford communicated to her fiance' the particulars of her inter- 
 view with her step-son. Mr Wilcoxon took advantage of it to 
 hasten the nuptials, which were, as a mark of respect to General 
 Alford's memory, to have been deferred for two months more. 
 
 " I am the executor of General Alford's will," he said, "but 
 you are named in it as the boy's guardian. I cannot act in 
 your name very well until I am your husband. The sooner 
 this troublesome boy is put down the better. We mean our 
 marriage to be quite private, you know. Why shouldn't the 
 wedding take place at once ? " 
 
 Mrs Alford allowed herself to be persuaded, and in a week 
 from that time the ceremony was performed. It was as Mr 
 Wilcoxon had intimated, as quiet as possible, nobody being 
 present but Mr Wilcoxon's relative, the army agent, and his 
 wife, as witnesses. Immediately after the conclusion of the 
 rite, Mr Wilcoxon made the formal offer of the clerkship to 
 George. He found the lad mooning alone in the garden. He
 
 128 Who did it? 
 
 had not chosen to be present in the church, and he felt too 
 much out of heart to go about any of his favourite employ- 
 ments. He answered Mr Wilcoxon shortly that he did not 
 like the life suggested to him. He would rather be anything 
 than a clerk in a factory. 
 
 " You will find it difficult to be anything else," said Mr 
 Wilcoxon quietly. " Your mother tells me " 
 
 " My mother is dead," said George. " You mean Mrs 
 Wilcoxon, I suppose ? " 
 
 " I do mean Mrs Wilcoxon, young gentleman," returned 
 the other ; " and you will be pleased henceforth to speak of 
 her by that name. She tells me that you wish to enter the 
 army." 
 
 " I wish my father's promise to be performed," exclaimed 
 George. 
 
 " His promise," repeated Mr Wilcoxon. " There is no 
 evidence that he made such a promise. And if he had," he 
 continued, sharply, as he saw George about to interrupt him, 
 " if he had, my conscience would not allow anything of the 
 kind to be done." 
 
 " Your conscience " began George, contemptuously. 
 
 " My conscience," repeated Mr Wilcoxon, more sternly than 
 before. "Just attend to me. Mrs Wilcoxon and myself are 
 going away presently, and do not mean to return to Wickfield 
 for nearly two months. You have that time to reconsider 
 this matter. I shall hear your final resolve when I come 
 back. If you reject my offers then, I shall not repeat them."
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 GEORGE'S LETTER. 
 
 "PooR George," said Cressingham, when Burton had 
 reached this point in the narrative ; " it is hard lines upon him 
 indeed ! On what day did Mrs Alford's marriage take place ? 
 Do you happen to know ? " 
 
 " Yes," said Burton. " I know it, because George wrote to 
 me on that very day. It was the sixteenth of June." 
 
 " And her husband was killed on the eighteenth of June in 
 the previous year ! " said Cressingham. " It is a pity she did 
 not wait two days more. That would have been a remarkable 
 way of celebrating the anniversary of his death ! She must be 
 a strange article, that lady ! " 
 
 " Yes, one would think it must have been done to insult 
 General Alford's memory," observed Burton, " only that one 
 knows from George that she had a reason for having it then. 
 Anyway, however, it shows that she cared very little for 
 appearances. As for Wilcoxon, I don't suppose he cared for 
 them at all." 
 
 " The two months must be pretty nearly up now," said 
 Cressingham. " Has George been living all this time at 
 Wickfield ? " 
 
 i
 
 1 30 Who did it ? 
 
 "Yes," replied Burton, "living all alone by himself in his 
 step-mother's house. He would willingly have been anywhere 
 else, but he couldn't help himself. My aunt refused to allow 
 me to invite him over here, and she wouldn't let me go over 
 to Wickfield to see him. She is so furious with Mrs Alford 
 for having married Wilcoxon, that she can hardly endure 
 the mention of the name. I judge poor old George has 
 had a hard time of it. It will come to an end soon now ; 
 but I fear he wont be much the better for it when it does." 
 
 " What, the Wilcoxons are coming back ? " suggested Cress- 
 ingham. 
 
 " Yes," returned Burton. " I received a letter about ten 
 days ago, telling me what had happened during the last fort- 
 night. Would you like to hear the letter, Fred? There is 
 nothing in it, but what you may hear. He says I may read 
 it to you." 
 
 " I should like it very much," said Cressingham. " Let us 
 sit down under the shade of this oak, and you can read it out." 
 
 They sat down accordingly among the roots of the old tree, 
 and Burton took out George's letter, which covered four sides 
 of one of the large sheets of paper of those days. 
 
 EAST STREET, WICKFIELD, 
 August tf/i, 1816. 
 
 MY DEAR CLEM, I told you in my last that I had heard 
 nothing from Mr Wilcoxon or Mrs Wilcoxon either, since they 
 left England ; nor had any of the servants heard. To-day, 
 however, there has come a letter to the housekeeper, telling 
 her that they were setting off on their homeward journey, and 
 will be in Wickfield in about a fortnight. Then I suppose
 
 Georges Letter. 131 
 
 we shall have it out. It wont be a pleasant business, I ex- 
 pect. Mr Knyvett has failed, I am sorry to say, in learning 
 anything about Major, or, as it appears, he ought to be called 
 Colonel Baynton. Mr Knyvett has had an answer from a 
 gentleman who lives in New Orleans. He says that a great 
 many wounded English officers were taken to the hospitals in 
 the city after the retreat of our troops, and some were received 
 into English families residing in New Orleans or the neigh- 
 bourhood. He had ascertained that no officer named Baynton 
 had been brought as a patient to any hospital, but could not 
 learn much about the others. He thought, however, that if 
 Major Baynton had been among those who were taken charge 
 of by one of the neighbouring gentry, he must in all likelihood 
 have died long before this, or recovered and left the country. 
 I must own that there seems but little ground for hope ; and 
 that, I can see, is Mr Knyvett's opinion also. But I don't 
 mean to give up, while there is any hope at all. 
 
 If Baynton is dead, of course all chance of my entering the 
 army is at an end, unless I enlist as a private soldier, as I have 
 once or twice been half disposed to do. I sometimes think I 
 may do so still, if Wilcoxon continues to bully me. I would 
 certainly rather serve in the ranks than be his clerk. I declare 
 I think I hate him worse and worse every day. There is no 
 end to his meanness and trickery. I told you at the begin- 
 ning of this letter that no one had heard anything about him 
 since he went off on his wedding tour. But I ought to have 
 said that no one in East Street had heard of him. The 
 Bowles's have heard something of him, and he of them. 
 There is a fellow now hanging about Wickfield a fellow 
 called Carr cur he ought to be called a money-lender
 
 132 Who did it? 
 
 living in Ship Street. He is one of Wilcoxon's agents, or 
 rather one of the tools with which he does his dirty work. It 
 seems this nail factory of his must be enlarged, if it is to answer, 
 and it can only be enlarged by building over Bowles's ground. 
 I have told you before of his ineffectual attempts to get posses- 
 sion by requiring Bowles to execute repairs, and then by rais- 
 ing his rent. Now he has tried a third dodge. 
 
 I told you, I think, that Tom and Bill Bowles had brought 
 home a heap of money, which they meant to lay out in setting 
 up their father and themselves in business. They resolved, 
 after much deliberation, to buy a brig, by means of which 
 they would be able to supply the Wickfield people with coals, 
 cheaper than they can get them now. But the brig would cost 
 more money than their savings would amount to, though they 
 had saved a goodish sum. They wanted to borrow a thousand 
 pounds, giving their property here as a security for it. One 
 day about six weeks ago or thereabouts, just after Wilcoxon's 
 departure, Carr came down to see old Bowles. He said he 
 had some money which he wished to put out at five per cent, 
 interest. He had been told that Mr Bowles wanted to borrow 
 a few hundreds. If so, he would be very glad to accommo- 
 date him. What security did he propose to give ? Bowles 
 was taken in by the fellow's manner. Five per cent, would be 
 very easy terms for the loan, and the security he proposed to 
 give, his furniture and stock-in-trade, among which of course 
 the brig would be included, was pronounced by Carr to be 
 perfectly satisfactory. The old boatman was very near con- 
 senting, but it had occurred to him that he ought to consult 
 his sons first, as a large part of the money invested would be 
 theirs, Carr tried hard to induce him to change his resolu-
 
 George's Letter. 133 
 
 tion, and at length took his departure, promising to return for 
 the final answer on the following day. 
 
 When Tom and William Bowles came home in the evening 
 they were not quite so well pleased with the offer as their 
 father had been. 
 
 " If all is above-board," observed Tom, " we couldn't do 
 better than accept the terms. But I don't altogether fancy 
 what I have heard about this man Carr." 
 
 " What have you heard about him ? " asked Bill. 
 
 " Well, I've heard that he has lent money to several people 
 who were hard up, and made them pay ten and twelve per 
 cent, for it. I don't understand why he should lower his 
 terms so much to us. He has a bad name in Wickfield, and 
 I don't fancy putting myself into his power." 
 
 " There's something in that, Tom," said his father, " and I 
 must say I don't fancy the man myself, nor his wanting me to 
 settle the matter without speaking to you. Still if the offer is 
 made in good faith, it is better than we are likely to get else- 
 where." 
 
 " I'll tell you what we can do, father," says Bill ; " we can 
 go up and ask lawyer Kny vett about it. He's always been our 
 good friend, and has promised to borrow this money for us, if 
 he can. He knows pretty nearly everything about people 
 round about here. He'll advise us what to do." 
 
 " This was voted a bright idea ; and the next day accord- 
 ingly the old man paid Mr Knyvett a visit. The latter 
 listened to his story in silence, and when he had ended said 
 briefly, "Take Carr's money, and bring the copy of the 
 agreement which you sign up to me." 
 
 Bowles thanked Mr Knyvett and went home. The next
 
 134 Who did it? 
 
 day Carr came, and Bowles faithfully obeyed the lawyer's 
 instructions. He agreed to borrow the money on the terms 
 offered, and to give all his property, of whatsoever kind (in 
 which, of course, the new brig was included), as security. 
 Carr produced an agreement ready drawn up in duplicate, 
 which Bowles signed, retaining, of course, one of the dupli- 
 cates. The money lender then handed over ten bank notes 
 of one hundred pounds each, and took his departure. 
 
 Bowles only waited till he was quite clear of the premises, 
 and then went up to Mr Knyvett's office with the bank notes 
 and the agreement. 
 
 " It's all right," said the solicitor, as he ran his eye over the 
 paper. " You can proceed now as quickly as you please. 
 You have seen a brig which you think would suit you, have 
 you not, Bowles ? " 
 
 " Yes, sir, and she's a regular beauty, and a capital 
 bargain too," replied the old man. " With this money and 
 the boys' savings we shall be able to pay for her right 
 down." 
 
 " That's all right then," said Mr Knyvett " You mean to 
 leave these bank notes with me, I suppose, as well as the 
 agreement ? Very well, I will take charge of them. I have 
 your sons' money already, you know. It is deposited with my 
 bankers at interest. When do you mean to pay for the brig ? 
 What is its name, by the way ? " 
 
 " They call her the Caroline, sir. We haven't any thought 
 of changing the name." 
 
 " Very well ; when you want to pay for the Caroline, send 
 the owner up to me." 
 
 Well, Clem, the old chap went home as jolly as a sand-
 
 George's Letter. 135 
 
 boy. They bought the brig, brought her round to Wickfield, 
 and were making their arrangements to sail for Newcastle with 
 a cargo on board, which they meant to sell in Newcastle and 
 return with coals, when they received another visit from Carr. 
 He appeared to be in great alarm and distress. 
 
 " You haven't paid away the money I lent you yet, have 
 you ? " he asked. 
 
 " Not paid it away ? " repeated Bowles. " Why, of course I 
 have. The Caroline was paid for when she was handed 
 over to us. It was agreed that she should be." 
 
 " O dear, dear, was there ever anything so unfortunate," says 
 Carr. " I've had some terrible losses in business, and I must 
 have this money back, or I shall be ruined." 
 
 " Have the money back," says Bowles. " Of course, you'll 
 have it back in time. We mean to pay you off bit by bit, as 
 we makes our money, but, to be sure, you don't expect us to 
 pay you back now, when we've only just had it. Why, we 
 haven't had time to make a sixpence yet." 
 
 " I can't help it, Mr Bowles," says the rascal. " Perhaps 
 you can borrow it of some one else. I should be sorry to 
 inconvenience you any way, but I should be obliged, if you 
 can't raise it in any way, to sell your furniture here, I am afraid, 
 and the Caroline, too. O dear, was there ever anything so 
 unlucky ? " 
 
 " Sell our furniture and the Caroline? cried Bowles. " I 
 don't see how you can do that. Why, we have only just had 
 the money, and, of course, you must have known that we 
 couldn't repay you the whole of it, that is for a long time to 
 come." 
 
 " There wasn't any time named in the bond, was there? " 
 asked Carr.
 
 136 Who did it? 
 
 " I don't know as there was," returned the other, " but it 
 must have been understood so." 
 
 " I didn't understand it in that way," says Carr, " and I'm 
 afraid my creditors wouldn't agree to my allowing you time. 
 But see here, Mr Bowles, you've a long lease of these premises, 
 haven't you ? " 
 
 " Yes," said Bowles, drily, " a thirty years' lease, and about 
 six of 'em have run out" 
 
 " Well, I daresay you could get something handsome for 
 that. In fact, I shouldn't mind if you'd make that over to 
 me" 
 
 " Ah, now I see what you're at, Master Carr," cries the old 
 man. " You'll just be pleased to get out of this house without 
 more words, and you'll be wise to do it pretty quick, for if my 
 lads were to come home and hear what you'd come for, they 
 might give you something you wouldn't like." 
 
 " I am not afraid of them, or you either," says the fellow, 
 changing his tone ; " and I give you notice that if you don't 
 pay me within two days, I'll sell you up without more ado." 
 
 Bowles went up to Mr Knyvett with a very woe-begone face, 
 and told his story. Knyvett listened to it, but didn't seem to 
 pity Bowles as much as he had expected. 
 
 " It's a sad business," he said, "but I'll do the best I can 
 for you. We must see if I can't persuade him to give you a 
 little time. Appoint him to meet me here to-morrow about 
 the same time, and we'll see what can be done." 
 
 Carr didn't very much like going to Mr Knyvett's office, but 
 he couldn't very well help himself. 
 
 " Good morning," says Mr Knyvett ; " good morning, Mr 
 Carr. This isn't the first time we've met, I think, is it ? "
 
 George's Letter. 137 
 
 " I don't remember having had the honour of being in your 
 company before," replies the money-lender. 
 
 " Not at Portsmouth some four years ago, Mr Carr ? There 
 was a sailor, Andrew Clark, I think his name was, who had been 
 robbed of his money in one of the dens there. Ah, you don't 
 remember ; never mind that. Well, you want the thousand 
 pounds here that you lent Mr Bowles back again, I'm told, 
 and at very short notice, for he hasn't had the money a month 
 yet. I think you're rather hard upon him, Mr Carr." 
 
 " I assure you, sir, it distresses me very much to put Mr 
 Bowles to any inconvenience. But my position is one of 
 great urgency. I should be sold up myself" 
 
 "That would be a pity," said Mr Knyvett, drily. "You 
 deposited with me the copy of the bond, did you not, Bowles ? " 
 he resumed, turning to the boatman ; and then opening his 
 desk, "yes, here it is, and here are the numbers of the notes 
 that you gave Mr Bowles. Look at it, and see if it is correct." 
 
 " Quite correct, sir," said Carr ; " there is no doubt of the 
 accuracy of the transaction." 
 
 " You had better verify them yourself, then," said Mr Kny- 
 vett, tossing over a bundle of bank notes to him. " You will 
 see that they are precisely the same that you gave him. There, 
 you scoundrel, take yourself out of my office, and be thankful 
 that this attempt to ruin an honest man has failed. I would 
 advise you also to take yourself out of Wickfield, or Andrew 
 Clark may be making inquiries after the crimp who pillaged 
 him. Bowles," he goes on, " I have taken the liberty of 
 lending you this money myself at the same rate of interest 
 which this rascal offered you. I shall give you rather longer 
 time than he proposed to do."
 
 1 38 Who did it ? 
 
 Wasn't that glorious, Clem? Frank Knyvett, who was present, 
 told me Carr left the room white with rage, threatening that he 
 would pay the Bowles's out for it yet. But they've no need to 
 fear him. I had heard of the poor old fellow's trouble, and 
 had gone down to comfort him as well as I could. I found 
 Tom and Bill and the old woman waiting for Bowles's return, 
 all very much down in the mouth. But by and bye the old 
 man comes in, radiant with joy, and tells the story. You 
 should have seen how delighted they were ! I hear Carr has 
 already left Wickfield, but I judge he has written to tell Wil- 
 coxon what has happened, and he'll be none the less savage 
 with me, as he always fancies that I back up the Bowles's ; 
 and, indeed, he's not far wrong in that. Meanwhile the Caro- 
 line is all but ready to sail. Tom and Bill have gone to 
 Portsmouth to try and pick up a few hands to complete the 
 crew, and then they'll be off. They are such good fellows 
 that I should like to go as second mate on board the brig with 
 them. 
 
 This is a long letter, Clem ; but I know you are interested 
 in these matters, and wont be tired. Remember me to Fred 
 and Scott and the others, and believe me, your affect, friend, 
 
 GEORGE ALFORD. 
 
 P.S. You may tell the above to Fred Cressingham, if you 
 like. But if I should resolve on leaving Wickfield, though I 
 shall certainly tell you everything, I must ask you to keep that 
 entirely to yourself. Wilcoxon, though he talks a good deal 
 about allowing me to go my own way, &c., has no idea of 
 really permitting anything of the kind. He'd be sure to send 
 after me if he knew where I was gone, and hunt me down. It 
 must be a secret between you and me.
 
 George s Letter. 1 39 
 
 Burton read the whole of the letter, except the postscript, 
 aloud. Then he folded it up, and there was a silence of some 
 minutes. Presently Cressingham spoke. 
 
 " It's a burning shame," he said ; " but I am afraid 
 George hasn't much chance with a fellow like Wilcoxon, who 
 seems to be something between a Yankee attorney and a Jew 
 money lender. Well, I suppose, you'll hear from him again, 
 Clem, pretty soon now, and then everything will have been 
 settled." 
 
 " Yes, I expect to hear in a day or two at furthest," replied 
 Burton. " George has still two or three days of his two 
 months left, but he may not wait the whole time before having 
 it out with his step-father. Well, let us go in now, Fred ; it's 
 just upon the time, and I see the other fellows coming up 
 from the shore." 
 
 Nothing was talked of that evening in the schoolroom, 
 except the trial of skill with pistols on the beach, and the 
 match which was to come off at the end of the ensuing week. 
 Graves's party were the most eager of any, notwithstanding 
 that Graves himself took no part in the discussion. 
 
 " I have got a letter to show you, Jerry," he said, drawing 
 Taunton on one side. " It has just come. Clara has seen 
 Mr Lumley about the money." 
 
 " Was the old chap in a good humour ? " inquired Taunton. 
 " No, he wasn't," answered Graves. " Clara says she never 
 saw him so surly. He went on about my extravagance, as he 
 called it, by the yard ; and there was no pulling him up. He'll 
 come round by-and-bye, but not this side of Christmas, I 
 expect." 
 
 " What a bore," said Taunton. " I must write and tell
 
 140 Wlw did it ? 
 
 Reginald. I had given him to understand that you would 
 certainly take the gun and pistols. I am afraid he'll be a good 
 deal disappointed. And how about this pistol match too ? 
 I take it for granted y&u meant to use my cousin's pistols to 
 win that, as you'd be safe to do, if you shot with them " 
 
 " I think I could answer for that," observed Graves. " I've 
 hit a half-crown three times running with them at a dozen 
 yards. It would be odd if I couldn't hit a ginger-beer bottle." 
 
 " I know, I know," said Taunton. " But if you can't get 
 these pistols, and are driven to use old Grimes's again, and 
 Temple borrows some first-rate articles as very likely he will 
 what's to happen then? Really, I think you had better say 
 you can't get any decent pistols, and give the thing up. None 
 of our set would like to see you beaten " 
 
 " I don't mean to be beaten," said Graves, "and I do mean 
 to shoot the match. I've agreed to shoot it, and that is enough. 
 Look here, Jerry, though Lumley wouldn't give Clara the 
 money she asked for, he did give her five guineas, which she 
 has sent me. That, with the money I have in my purse, will 
 be enough to buy the pistols." 
 
 " To be sure it will," cried Taunton, joyfully. " Hand over 
 the dibs, and I'll write this very night to Reginald, and tell 
 him to send the pistols off by the coach. There will be heaps 
 of time to get them between this and Saturday week." 
 
 "Well, not too much time," rejoined Graves. " It is a two 
 days' post to your cousin's place, and the coach will be gone 
 when he receives it, on Saturday. The coach is two days in 
 getting to London, and the journey here takes a day more. 
 They can't be here before Wednesday afternoon." 
 
 " Never mind, Wednesday afternoon will be soon enough,"
 
 George's Letter. 141 
 
 rejoined Taunton. " Well, I shall enjoy seeing Temple taken 
 down, I must say that, and so will Dilke, and Payne, and Dick 
 Rawes. I'll sit down and write immediately." 
 
 Nor were Temple's backers less anxious for their champion's 
 success. Charlie found Wright and Winburne in possession 
 of his study, when he returned after the pistol shooting. They 
 were eager to tell him all about Graves's usage of them of 
 which Temple as yet had heard nothing and to learn the 
 rights about the shooting match, of which only imperfect rumours 
 had reached them. The two narratives, with the running 
 comments made on them, took up a good deal of time, and it 
 wanted only a few minutes to prayers, when they were com 
 pleted. 
 
 " You beat him then, Charlie," exclaimed Wright, when he 
 had heard all. " I am glad of that, anyway. I should like 
 to have seen his face when he missed, and you hit ! " 
 
 " Yes," said Winburne, " I had made a vow that I would 
 have nothing to do with him for the future, the sulky, cowardly 
 brute " 
 
 " Draw it mild, Jack," said Temple. " He is sulky and he 
 may be a brute, but he's not a coward. You didn't see him 
 with Nep to-day, or you wouldn't call him one." 
 
 " He's a bully," said Winburne, " and a bully is almost 
 always a coward." 
 
 " Well, I hardly should call Graves a bully," said Temple. 
 " He doesn't care how much he hurts a fellow, no doubt, but 
 I don't think he hurts him for the mere pleasure of hurting 
 him. If you leave him alone, I believe he'd leave you." 
 
 " Well, anyway, as I was saying," resumed Winburne, " I 
 have made a vow to have nothing to do with him for the future,
 
 142 Who did it f 
 
 but I should have broken it upon the first day, to have seen 
 him beaten at pistol shooting the thing which he thinks he 
 can do better than anyone else." 
 
 "Well, you'll have an opportunity of seeing him beaten 
 again," remarked Wright. " I'll go bail for it, Charlie will give 
 him just as sound a licking next Saturday week, as he did 
 to-day." 
 
 " No, you mustn't expect that," said Temple. " In the first 
 place, on consideration I don't think that I shall shoot the 
 match at all. I did say I would shoot it, no doubt. I was a 
 good deal provoked. But I half think that it is a promise 
 which I ought not to keep. I gave my mother my promise 
 last holidays that I wouldn't break any of the rules of the 
 school. I have kept the promise up till now. Perhaps 
 Hepburn might think that the wearing the gipsy's clothes was 
 a breach of the rules, but I didn't and don't. There was no 
 positive rule that was broken by it. But there is a well known 
 rule, and one on which the Doctor insists, that no fellow here 
 shall use firearms. Burton and Cressingham were right when 
 they said so to-day, and I wish I had followed their advice. 
 
 "There is something in that, Charlie," said Wright, "and 
 if you had refused at the time, it would have been all right. 
 But here you see you have made a positive engagement. I 
 daresay some of the fellows have made wagers about it ; and 
 certainly Graves and his friends will crow over you, and all 
 our set. I think you had better say that when this match has 
 come off, you wont shoot another. But this match you must 
 shoot." 
 
 " I suppose I must," assented Temple, reluctantly. " But 
 I'm sorry for it."
 
 George's Letter. 143 
 
 " You will not be very sorry for it, when Graves has had a 
 sound drubbing," remarked Winburne. 
 
 "Graves won't get a sound drubbing," rejoined Temple. 
 " It was mere accident my hitting to-day as I did, and Graves 
 would not have missed if the bullets had fitted the pistols. I 
 have had more practice no doubt than Rawes fancies, but I'm 
 no match for Graves, who really is a crack shot. Besides 
 there's another thing. I chanced to overhear Rawes talking 
 to Dilke and Payne an hour or two ago. He was telling them 
 that Graves is going to send for a pair of splendid pistols from 
 home or somewhere, with which he can knock the ace of clubs 
 out of a card. No, I shall be safe to be beaten, but it isn't 
 that that I mind so much." 
 
 " As for getting a good brace of pistols," observed Winburne, 
 " two can play at that. Why shouldn't you get a first chop 
 article, Charlie?" 
 
 "Where am I to get it from?" asked Temple. 
 
 "Where from?" repeated Winburne. "Anywhere I should 
 think. Good pistols are not such very rare things." 
 
 " They are in this neighbourhood, I am afraid," remarked 
 Wright. " Colonel Wilder has some good pistols. Dolman 
 told me so. He said the Colonel often sent his guns and 
 pistols to his shop to be repaired or cleaned, and some of them 
 were as first-rate articles as he had ever seen. But then, of 
 course, the Colonel wouldn't lend them even if he was asked. 
 He knows old Thornton's rules, and wouldn't connive at their 
 being broken." 
 
 " Well," said Winburne, " Charlie might get a pistol for the 
 day from Dolman himself. I know he has some splendid 
 articles in his shop second-hand pistols, some of them, which
 
 144 Who did it ? 
 
 he wouldn't mind lending if we paid him, say, five shillings for 
 the hire. I am sure your friends, Charlie, would willingly 
 subscribe that." 
 
 " Dolman will be almost as unlikely to lend his pistols as 
 the Colonel," observed Wright. " Dolman is a cutler as well 
 as a gunsmith, you know, and the Doctor has a lot of things 
 at his shop in the course of the year. If Dolman should be 
 detected in lending firearms to the fellows, he would lose 
 Thornton's custom most likely, and he'd hardly run the risk of 
 doing that for five shillings." 
 
 " Well, anyway, we might get Harry Wilder to borrow the 
 pistols," rejoined Winburne. " He'd do it at once if we asked 
 him, and Dolman could have no reason for refusing him. 
 What do you think of that, Charlie?" 
 
 " I daresay I could get a pistol, if that were all," said 
 Temple, " from somewhere or other. You may leave that to 
 me. Well, I'll shoot the match. But it's only for this once, 
 remember ! I'll never do it again." 
 
 Only this once ! How many boys and men too owe their 
 ruin to that ill-omened phrase. Of all the baits with which 
 the devil dresses his hook, there is none more deadly than 
 that same phrase, "only this once."
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 A SMUGGLER'S DEN. 
 
 RAWES'S complaint that it always rained on half-holidays 
 seemed to have some truth in it. The Friday in the ensuing 
 week began, and seemed likely to end, with steady, soaking 
 rain. It was not until three in the afternoon that it con- 
 descended to cease, and then the boys agreed that the only 
 sport possible for them under the circumstances would be 
 what they were wont to call, " Hare's hide-and-seek." The 
 tides happened to be at their lowest, so that it was possible for 
 the boys to make their way along the shore as far as Crawley 
 Point, and return round Cockle Head, before the tide came 
 in. The game was a sort of combination of a paper-chase and 
 hide-and-seek. They carried the scent, as in the first-named 
 pastime. But instead of continuing their course until they 
 reached home again, they were wont to hide themselves in 
 some one of the numerous caves, into which the Hanger Cliffs 
 were broken. These in many instances contained narrow 
 passages winding far back into the rock, and deep hollows 
 over-grown with long weeds, which afforded capital hiding 
 places. If they failed to find the hares in ten minutes after 
 entering the cave, the victory was considered to rest with the 
 latter, if before that time, with their pursuers. 
 
 K
 
 146 Who did it? 
 
 11 Who'll be hare ? " said Charlie Temple, as he handed a 
 bundle of old newspapers and exercises to some of the juniors, 
 who proceeded to tear them in pieces. " It ought to be some 
 big fellow, as the running will be very heavy to-day. Will you 
 be one, Graves ? " 
 
 "Jerry and I have some business in Walescliff," said 
 Graves, " or I would." 
 
 "Why shouldn't you be one of the hares yourself, 
 Charlie ? " asked Wright. 
 
 " I hurt my foot at cricket yesterday," said Temple. " I 
 shall be able, I daresay, to keep up with the ruck, but I 
 couldn't go ahead." 
 
 " I'll be one of the hares," said Cressingham, " if you like 
 it. Will you be the other, Clement ? " He laid his hand on 
 his friend's shoulder as he spoke. 
 
 Burton started. He had been engaged in the perusal of a 
 letter which had arrived by the morning's post, and was 
 apparently so much interested, that he was unaware of what 
 was passing. " I've no objection," he said. " We shall go 
 under Hanger's Cliffs, I suppose. Let us start at once." 
 
 The bags containing the scraps of paper known as "the 
 scent " were handed to the two boys, and they set off at the 
 long swinging trot, which is the orthodox pace in this par- 
 ticular sport, while the others remained behind the prescribed 
 time, before setting off in pursuit. The sea-shore was soon 
 reached. Cockle Head was gained, and then Burton and 
 Cressingham subsided into a steady pace along the hard, moist 
 sand which stretched without interruption for miles under 
 Hanger's Cliffs. 
 
 They had proceeded for more than three miles, and had
 
 A Smuggler's Den. 147 
 
 reached the mouth of what seemed to be little more than a 
 narrow slit in the rock, when Cressingham called upon his 
 companion to stop. 
 
 " Here'll be the place, Clem ; let us locate ourselves here, 
 as the Yankees say. That projecting rock entirely screens us 
 from the hounds. They won't be able to tell what has 
 become of us." 
 
 "What, hide in Hanger's Cave itself," said Burton, in some 
 surprise. " All the hiding places there are as well known as 
 the seats in the play-ground. We shall be caught in a 
 minute if we hide there." 
 
 "Ah, so you think," said Cressingham, "but if you'll go 
 inside, you'll see reason to change your opinion." 
 
 " Very well," said Burton, dropping a handful of scent as he 
 spoke. Let's go in and see this place of yours." 
 
 They entered accordingly, and presently found themselves 
 in a spacious, semicircular hollow, the ground rising in a suc- 
 cession of shelves, resembling a rude amphitheatre. In some 
 places the action of the waves had formed deep holes. In 
 others there were natural fissures, running a long way back into 
 the rock. In some of these passages had been cut, so as to 
 make one cavity communicate with another. Report said 
 that these hollows were sometimes used as receptacles for 
 smuggled goods. But as the passage to the cliffs above could 
 only be made by swarming up a rope thrown down from the 
 summit, and heavy goods could not have been raised without 
 the help of a crane, this story was generally disbelieved. 
 
 "You have heard old Gunn's stories about this place, I 
 suppose," said Burton. " He persists in it that twenty years 
 ago, before the coast-guard was established out at Crawley
 
 148 Wkodiditt 
 
 Point yonder, no end of smuggling went on here. But I 
 never believed him." 
 
 " Nor did I," said Cressingham, " until last summer. What 
 I am going to show you, altered my opinion, and I guess it 
 will alter yours too." 
 
 As he spoke he climbed up to the highest of the shelves, 
 which formed the back of the cave, and entered a huge cleft 
 about six feet high. It ran for a dozen feet or so straight 
 into the rock, and then turning sharply to the left, was con- 
 tinued for about the same distance, when it ended abruptly. 
 
 " Do you know this passage, Clem ? " he asked. 
 
 "Know it?" returned Burton. "Of course I know it. 
 What fellow in Holmwood doesn't know it, I should like to 
 know. There used to be a sort of niche to the left into 
 which a fellow could just thrust himself. Ay, here it is," he 
 resumed a minute afterwards. " This would do very well, 
 Fred, for one of us to hide in if the fellows had never played 
 hide-and-seek here before. But as soon as they find we have 
 gone in here, I'll answer for it they'll go straight to this place 
 the first thing." 
 
 " Wait a bit," said Cressingham. " You say you know the 
 passage, but do you happen to know this ? " He thrust his 
 hand as he spoke into what seemed a small fissure, and un- 
 did apparently some fastening, for a solid slab of stone, which 
 must have been fully six feet high and more than two wide, 
 swung noiselessly on one side, and showed a long narrow pas- 
 sage beyond. 
 
 " By Jove," exclaimed Burton, invoking, after the fashion of 
 schoolboys, the heathen sire of gods and men, " how did you 
 come to find that out ? "
 
 A Smugglers Den. 149 
 
 " By the merest accident. It was just the last day of last 
 half, or rather, I should say, it was the first day of the holi- 
 days. Somehow or other I contrived to miss the coach, and 
 there was no getting away from Walescliff until the next day. I 
 did not know what on earth to do with myself, and at last 
 resolved to take one of old Gunn's boats and row along under 
 Hanger Cliffs carrying my luncheon with me. The day was 
 dreadfully hot, and this cave was the coolest place I could 
 find. I took my lunch up into this hollow. After finishing it 
 I laid down and had a nap. By-and-by I woke up and was 
 going away, but I couldn't find my knife. I fancied that I had 
 stuck it into a crevice of the rock. I put my hand into one 
 of these and began feeling about. Presently I laid hold of 
 something cold. It was not the handle of my knife, but a 
 knob of iron, which proved to be the end of a bolt, running, I 
 suppose, into the stone slab, for the moment I pulled it 
 towards me, the slab swung open as you saw it do just 
 now." 
 
 " Well, that was a rum go," said Burton. " Did you go up 
 to see where the path leads to ? " 
 
 " I went up someway," answered Cressingham, "far enough 
 to make sure that it ran directly to the top of the cliff. But 
 it was getting very late, and I thought they would make a row 
 at Holmwood if I wasn't at home by supper-time. I should 
 fancy there must be a fine view out to sea from the top." 
 
 " I make no doubt there is," assented Burton. " Look 
 here, Fred ; it's plain enough what this means. The smug- 
 glers had been in the habit of landing their cargoes here, and 
 stowing them in this secret passage. Then they would take 
 themselves off the same way they came. By-and-by their
 
 1 50 Who did it ? 
 
 mates would come down under cover of night and carry the 
 goods off. Most probably the other end of the passage is 
 stopped in very much the same way as this is, so that no one 
 could know anything of its existence unless he went up in a 
 balloon. I remember now to have heard George Alford say- 
 ing that there was some secret path by which people could 
 get to Spurling and the country round about, without passing 
 either by the landing place at Crawley Point, where the Pre- 
 ventive Station is, or Walescliff itself, and so pass close to 
 Baines's house. This must be the place." 
 
 " I daresay you are right," rejoined Cressingham. " Sup- 
 pose we go up now and search for the further entrance. We 
 have plenty of time." 
 
 " All right," said Burton. " We had better shut the slab 
 after us, it is easily enough opened from this side." " Hallo," 
 he added, a moment afterwards, "what's that row down below ? 
 If any of the smugglers are coming we had better make a bolt 
 for it." 
 
 " No, it's not the smugglers, Clem," said Cressingham, 
 laughing. " You have forgotten the time of day, I think. 
 It's Charlie Temple and Wright and Winburne, and the rest 
 of them. They've traced us as far as the cave, and are just 
 beginning to search it. They'll be properly sold ! " 
 
 The two boys stopped for a few minutes to listen with 
 amusement to the cries of perplexity and wonder, which were 
 plainly enough audible. Then they began climbing the rocky 
 path. This they found wound after a very irregular fashion, 
 sometimes between high upright crags, completely screening it 
 on either side, and sometimes through passages which had been 
 cut through the rock. At last they came to a place where the
 
 A Stmiggler's Den. 1 5 r 
 
 road divided into a fork one passage leading downwards, 
 and closed very nearly after the same fashion as at the other 
 end, the other as plainly proceeding upwards to the summit of 
 the cliffs. Cressingham wanted to stop and discover the 
 mode of opening the secret door, but Burton advised mount- 
 ing to the summit first. They were hot and tired with the 
 ascent, he said, and it would be pleasant to sit down and rest 
 up above, enjoying the seaward prospect When they had 
 had enough of that, they could find the way out, and return 
 that way to Holmwood. 
 
 Cressingham assented, and after climbing the narrow ascent, 
 which was here almost as steep as a ladder, and consisted in 
 many places of steps hewn by manual labour, they emerged 
 on a small level platform, on the top of an isolated crag. 
 
 " This is the place where the fellows used to keep their 
 look-out," said Burton. " Look, Fred, anyone standing here 
 can see any boat coming from either Deadman's Point or 
 Walescliff on one side, or from Curlew Island on the other, 
 not to speak of any boat from Crawley Point. They could 
 see it half-an-hour at least before it could reach the cave." 
 
 " I wonder those two fellows that we picked off the Quoits 
 the other day didn't make for this cave," observed Cressing- 
 ham. 
 
 " No, they wanted to get to Wickfield, and meant to have 
 swum beyond Walescliff Bay," said Burton, hastily ; "or 
 rather," he added, correcting himself in some confusion, " it 
 is most likely that was their reason. You know they said 
 something about wanting to get there." 
 
 " Ay, to be sure," said Cressingham, " and besides the tide 
 runs so sharp from Crawley Point to Cockle Head, that I
 
 152 Who did it? 
 
 don't suppose that they could have forced their way out of it. 
 Look at that boat, which has come, I suppose, from Dead- 
 man's Point. See what a wide berth it is obliged to give 
 Cockle Head." 
 
 " I see it," said Burton. " It's going to Horncombe or 
 Curlew Island most probably. People often go that way by 
 sea. It saves a long land journey." 
 
 They sat down and watched the little vessel, as it slowly 
 made its way, continually making tacks. Presently the atten- 
 tion of the two friends was attracted by voices immediately 
 below them. Looking over the edge of the crag, they saw 
 that the whole posse of Holmwood boys, having explored 
 every crevice of the cave without success, were on the point 
 of returning homeward by the sands. 
 
 "Sold out and out," exclaimed Cressingham. "I say, 
 Clem, I should like to wrap a piece of paper round this stone, 
 write my name on it, and throw it down among them. They 
 can't possibly see us up here. How it would puzzle 
 them ! " 
 
 " Don't do that, Fred, I don't want them to find out this 
 secret passage, or at all events I wouldn't tell it to the whole 
 school. We may have some more fun with it on some future 
 day." 
 
 " As you like," said Cressingham. " There they go," he 
 continued, as the boys ran off, the seniors taking it easy, and 
 the younger boys exerting themselves to keep up with their 
 elders. There they go, and will be at home in an hour's 
 time. Talking of that, Clem, hadn't we better be off our- 
 selves. We have a much shorter distance to go than they 
 have, but we may be some time in finding the fastenings of
 
 " LOOK AT THAT BOAT.' 
 
 Page 152.
 
 A Smuggler's Den. 153 
 
 the secret door, and I should like to be at home before they 
 arrive. Won't you come ? " 
 
 " I'll come presently, but not this minute," answered 
 Burton. " I want to sit here a little longer. But do you go 
 down, Fred, and find the entrance. If you'll leave it open 
 I'll follow you in a short time ; I daresay I shall overtake you 
 before you reach Spurling village." 
 
 Cressingham assented. He climbed down the steep stone 
 staircase and was soon lost to sight Burton leant over the 
 parapet of the rock with his eyes fixed on the boat, which had 
 now approached within a hundred yards of the shore. 
 
 Meanwhile the other boys were returning along the shore, a 
 good deal puzzled, and some of them disposed to be out of 
 humour. 
 
 " Where in the world could they have got to ?" asked Hill. 
 " I thought I knew Hanger's Cave pretty well ; but I 
 hunted every nook and corner of it, and they certainly could 
 not have been there." 
 
 " I don't believe they ever went in," said Payne; "and it 
 is contrary to the rules of the game to try and sell fellows after 
 that fashion." 
 
 " They must have been in there, only too well hidden to be 
 discovered," observed Lander. " Didn't you see the scent 
 lying about at the entrance of the cave ? " 
 
 " Yes, we all saw that," said Rawes. " But I judge Burton 
 and Cressingham just ran in for a moment, and then ran out 
 again. Most likely they made a spurt of it round Trawler's 
 Gate and so home by Spurling." 
 
 " Trawler's Gate," repeated Hill, " why, that's ever so far on 
 almost as far as Crawley Point."
 
 154 Who did it? 
 
 " I know that," said Rawes. " But there would have been 
 time for them to have reached it before we got round Hanger's 
 Nose if they put on best speed." 
 
 " But you forget," urged Hill, " that it would be against the 
 rules of the game to do that. They would have been bound 
 to drop a lot of the scent in some conspicuous place beyond 
 the entrance to the cave if they had gone on. I took the 
 trouble to run some distance beyond the cave towards Trawler's 
 Gate, and there was not a scrap of paper anywhere." 
 
 " Burton wouldn't care, or Cressingham either, for the rules 
 of the game if they wanted to sell us," rejoined Rawes. 
 
 " You have no right to say that," cried Hill and Lander in 
 the same breath. " I don't know any fellow less likely to do 
 an unfair thing like that, than Clem Burton," added 
 Hill. 
 
 " Or than Fred Cressingham," added Lander. 
 
 " Oh ay, you always stand up for your favourites," retorted 
 Rawes impatiently. 
 
 " I don't know whom you mean by ' my favourites,' " began 
 Hill, "but " 
 
 "Don't let us have another jaw," interposed Temple. 
 " There has been plenty of that article and to spare during 
 the last few days, and we are likely, I am afraid, to have more 
 of it. No one can have any right to say that Burton and 
 Cressingham would do anything unfair. I don't suppose any- 
 body really thinks so. They might have done what Rawes 
 supposes by way of a joke, but in no other way." 
 
 " That's your opinion, is it ? " asked Rawes. 
 
 " That's my opinion," repeated Temple. 
 
 Nothing more was said. The party trudged on in silence,
 
 A Smugglers Den. 1 5 5 
 
 until they had entered the lane leading to the Priory. Then 
 Temple took out his watch. 
 
 " Ten minutes past the half hour, I declare," he said. 
 " What a time we have been coming home." 
 
 " Not longer than usual, I think," observed Wright, " and 
 we are in plenty of time. The gate won't be locked for more 
 than half-an-hour." 
 
 " I daresay, George," said Temple in a lower tone, " but I 
 was to have met you know whom, at half-past five exactly 
 met him at Manson's gate, and I am afraid I shall miss him. 
 And even if that doesn't happen, I shall very likely be late 
 myself." 
 
 " Miss him miss Harry Wilder, ye mane ? " exclaimed 
 O'Toole, who had overheard his words. 
 
 Temple looked annoyed. " It is no business of yours, 
 O'Toole," he said crossly, " whom I may be going to meet ! " 
 
 " Not the least taste in life," returned Maurice ; " only if it's 
 Harry Wilder ye're thinking of, ye'll be glad to know that if 
 ye have missed him, he hasn't missed you. See yonder where 
 he sits on the stile, with his hands in his pockets. Will I 
 give him a hail ? " 
 
 " No, no," rejoined Temple hastily. " I'll just run up and 
 speak to him. Go on, please, I'll run after you and catch you 
 before you reach the house, or any way soon afterwards." 
 
 He hurried off and the others walked on. 
 
 " I thought Temple had promised to give Harry Wilder up," 
 observed Dilke, with one of his sneers. " Didn't we hear so, 
 Maurice?" 
 
 " To be sure we did," replied the Irishman. " We were 
 told that Temple had promised his father though, to be sure,
 
 I $6 Who did it? 
 
 he's dead perhaps it was Harry Wilder's father, but for 
 certain he had promised somebody that he wouldn't meet 
 Harry Wilder again, even if Harry met him. There was a 
 regular shindy, you know. Temple had been up at the King's 
 Arms playing billiards with Harry and some one else, and had 
 lost a power of money " 
 
 " Had won a power of money, you mean, Maurice," broke 
 in Rawes. " It was Colonel Wilder complained that Harry 
 had lost ever so much. He didn't think all had been 
 fair " 
 
 " If you are determined to rake up an old story which had 
 better be forgotten, at all events you had better stick to the 
 facts," cried Wright indignantly. " I know what passed well 
 enough to say that no one ever accused Charlie of anything 
 unfair, and he hadn't won money : he had lost it. It was of 
 breaking the rules of the school in going to the King's Arms 
 that he was accused. I know the Colonel thinks very well of 
 Charlie, and has never forbidden Harry to be friends with him 
 only he wont let them meet often during the half-year, 
 because it is contrary to the Doctor's rules." 
 
 "That's all very fine," said Rawes ; " but I am not to be 
 bamboozled that way. I know they were forbidden to meet 
 any more not during the half-year only, but not at all. 
 Temple promised that, or he would not have been let off so 
 easy." 
 
 " Do you mean to insinuate that Charlie is breaking his 
 word in meeting Harry Wilder now ? " exclaimed Winburne 
 indignantly. 
 
 " It looks rather like it," returned Rawes. 
 
 "Musha, be easy, Dick," interposed O'Toole. "Ye're
 
 A Smuggler's Den. 1 57 
 
 coming it a trifle too strong. No one knows what took place 
 on the occasion ye refer to except the Doctor and Colonel 
 Wilder, and, to be sure, Charlie Temple himself " 
 
 " And Temple has been too wise to say anything about it," 
 supplemented Rawes. 
 
 " Shut your potato trap, my jewel," cried Maurice, a good 
 deal provoked at the interruption. " Shut your potato trap, 
 and give your red rag a holiday ! Ye're talking without book, 
 as they say. Charlie Temple isn't very fond of you, Dick 
 Rawes, or of Stephen Graves, or maybe of me either, but he 
 is a gentleman and a man of his word for all that." 
 
 " Bravo, Maurice," cried Wright, " let us shake a fist upon 
 it. I don't know for certain what Charlie may want with 
 Harry Wilder, or Harry Wilder with Charlie, but I'll wager a 
 handsome sum that it is nothing to be ashamed of." 
 
 " You are welcome to your opinion," said Rawes coldly. 
 " I shall keep mine." 
 
 " And welcome," said O'Toole. " I don't want it, I'm sure. 
 Well, Fred," he continued, addressing Cressingham, who was 
 standing at the gate in company with Tom Cobbe awaiting 
 their arrival, "so you and Burton have got home before 
 us." 
 
 " I have got home," answered Cressingham. " Clement 
 hasn't come in yet, I am expecting him every moment." 
 
 " Here he is," shouted half-a-dozen voices, as Burton came 
 running up splashed from head to foot, and his face very red, 
 as though he had run a great distance without stopping. 
 
 " Here he is," repeated O'Toole, " the very man and no 
 other. How did ye manage to get out of that cave now, I 
 wonder. Ye didn't go beyond it unless a bird carried ye off
 
 158 Who did iff 
 
 on its back, like Baron Munchausen. I looked for your 
 footsteps, and they hadn't gone a yard beyond the cave." 
 
 " No, we didn't go beyond the cave, Maurice," said Cress- 
 ingham, noticing that Burton looked embarrassed, " not a yard 
 beyond it, as you say." 
 
 " And how did ye get out, then, I'd like to know ? " con- 
 tinued Maurice. " Have ye got a coat of darkness, like Jack 
 the Giant Killer, or were ye hid cunningly after all, in some 
 corner we couldn't find ? " 
 
 " That's tellings, Maurice," said Cressingham, laughing. " I 
 know what I know." 
 
 "And Tom Cobbe here looks as if he knew what he knew," 
 added Wright. " Well, Tom, what is it ? " 
 
 " I was directed by the Doctor to tell the young gentlemen, 
 that he desired their presence in the school-room as soon as I 
 had locked the gate," replied the school servant. 
 
 " Our presence in the school-room," repeated Wright. 
 "Is there going to be any row ? " 
 
 "There is mostly what you are pleased to call 'a row,' Mr 
 Wright, when the young gentlemen gets together, and the 
 fact is to be regretted," replied Tom sedately. " But I am not 
 aware that there is likely to be any other row. Mr Knyvett 
 have come over from Wickfield " 
 
 " Mr Knyvett ! " interrupted Cressingham, glancing as he 
 spoke at Burton. " Do you know what he has come about ? " 
 
 " Neither the Doctor nor Mr Knyvett thought fit to inform 
 me," said Cobbe, " and therefore I am not at liberty to tell 
 you. But it is time to lock the gate, young gentlemen. Six 
 o'clock has struck." 
 
 ' Stop a bit, Tom," cried Winburne. " Temple hasn't come
 
 A Smugglers Den. 1 59 
 
 in yet. Don't lock him out He was only a little behind us. 
 He'll be sure to be here in a minute." 
 
 " My duty will allow of my waiting three minutes, Mr Win- 
 burne, but not a morsel longer," replied Tom. 
 
 "I say, what is to be done?" said Wright, apart to Win- 
 burn e. " Charlie will get into a tremendous row. The Doctor 
 will be sure if he is late to ask him where he has been, and 
 he'll be obliged to say he has been with Harry Wilder. The 
 Doctor wont like that, because though Charlie isn't absolutely 
 forbidden to see Hairy during the half, the Doctor has begged 
 him not to do so, and then " 
 
 " And then Thornton will be asking Charlie what he wanted 
 to see Harry Wilder about, and he'll be obliged to say it was 
 to borrow a pistol of him." 
 
 " We don't know that," interrupted Wright. 
 
 " We don't know it to be sure," returned Winburne, " but 
 it is twenty to one, that is it. Look here, Tom. We left Mr 
 Temple at the end of the second field from this talking to 
 some one. He doesn't know what the time is, or he would 
 have been in before this. I'll just run down to the hedge and 
 shout to him." 
 
 "Impossible, Mr Winburne," answered Cobbe. "You 
 appear to forget that I have my duty to perform ; and the 
 Doctor will be in the schoolroom in a minute now, if he hasn't 
 gone in already." 
 
 He moved towards the gate with the key in his hand. But 
 at that moment there was a scuffle, apparently, among the 
 boys, and Wright reeled back with such force against Cobbe, 
 that they both rolled over on the grass plot. Wright sprang 
 nimbly up again, profusely apologizing to Tom for the tumble 

 
 160 Who did it? 
 
 he had caused him, which he declared to be altogether the 
 fault of Warner and Winburne, who had now run into the house. 
 
 Tom accepted his apologies with a rueful distrust, born of 
 long experience; but he was not so wasteful of time and 
 word as to offer any remonstrance. 
 
 " Give me the key anyhow, Mr Wright," he said. " It is 
 ten minutes past the hour, and the Doctor will be angry." 
 
 "The key?" repeated Wright. "Have you lost the key? 
 Who can have got it ? One of those fellows must have picked 
 it up, and taken it away inadvertently. Here, Hibbert, just 
 go into the house, and ask Winburne and Warner to look in 
 their pockets. They must have carried it off by mistake !" 
 
 " I tell you what, Mr Wright," exclaimed Cobbe, startled 
 out of his measured forms of speech, " if you don't give me 
 the key this minute, I'll go to the Doctor. 
 
 Just at this moment Temple made his appearance, not 
 coming along the footpath from Walescliff as they had expected, 
 but issuing from the cover of the trees. He came hurrying 
 along, looking confused and awkward, but evidently relieved 
 to find the gate still unlocked. 
 
 "Hooroo," shouted OToole, ''here's Temple at last all 
 behind, like the cow's tail ! What made ye come that way, 
 man, when we were looking for ye the tither?" 
 
 "I came the the most convenient way," stammered Temple. 
 " I was afraid I was late !" 
 
 " And so were we, Charlie," said Wright. " Why, Tom, 
 here's the key, after all, I declare. How in the world could it 
 have found its way into my trousers' pocket !"
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 THE HAWLEY EXHIBITION. 
 
 THE boys awaited Dr Thornton's arrival with a good deal of 
 interest and some anxiety. The Doctor seldom desired the 
 presence of the whole school, unless some serious offence had 
 been committed, or some important announcement had to be 
 made to them ; and there was a good deal of speculation 
 to quote their favourite mode of expressing themselves as to 
 " what was up now." There is seldom a time when school- 
 boys are not conscious of some offence committed ; which, if 
 known, would draw down the wrath of their masters. " If 
 you meet a boy, sir," the great Dr Johnson is reported to have 
 said, " if you meet a boy, box his ears ; for either he has just 
 done mischief, or he is just going to do it." Most school- 
 masters, it is to be feared, would, to a considerable extent, 
 at all events, endorse the Doctor's opinion. 
 
 On the present occasion, several gravamina at once occurred 
 to various individuals among the boys present, as being the 
 possible theme of the approaching homily. There was the 
 affair with the pistols, which had come off a week or so pre- 
 viously. 
 
 " Do you think any one can have told Thornton, or old 
 
 L
 
 1 62 Who did it? 
 
 Hepburn, of that match between you and Temple ? " asked 
 Taunton. "I suppose old Grimes hasn't told any of the 
 masters of your having borrowed his pistols, has he ? " 
 
 " It's very unlikely," said Graves. " Grimes is a good- 
 natured old chap, and he must know that Thornton would 
 make a row, if he heard of it. He has seen lots of things of 
 the same kind, and has never reported them." 
 
 " And besides," said Dilke, " he'd get into a row himself 
 for having lent the pistols. Thornton is a magistrate, you 
 know, and if he brought the matter before the bench, Grimes 
 might be dismissed from his office. I agree with Stephen, it 
 is most improbable that he has said anything about the 
 pistols." 
 
 Again there was the business about the visit of the gipsy, 
 and what had become of her. The quarrel between Captain 
 Gurdon and the senior usher had never been made up. Both 
 the belligerents had been making inquiries in all directions, 
 each being resolved to prove the other wrong. If the con- 
 stables had lighted on Mother Meggots, she'd be as likely as 
 not to reveal Temple's share in the affair. So reasoned 
 Wright and Winburne, and their coterie. 
 
 Apparently Temple himself was possessed with some idea 
 of the kind. He seemed unusually nervous and absent, some- 
 times not answering questions put to him, sometimes answer- 
 ing them wide of the mark. He twice asked Mr Wilkes for 
 permission to leave the room, and when questioned as to his 
 reason, could only say awkwardly that he wanted to fetch 
 something he had dropped. If the boys had not been so en- 
 grossed by their own speculations, his demeanour would 
 have attracted notice.
 
 The Haw ley Exhibition. 163 
 
 There was a third conjecture as to the reason why they had 
 been called together, but this was confined to Burton and 
 Cressingham, who were seated in a corner of the room con- 
 versing in a subdued tone. 
 
 " I say, Clem," said Cressingham, " has that business about 
 the convicts-, or sailors, or whatever they were, got to the ears 
 of the masters, do you think ? This officer, who has been 
 making inquiries at Curlew, may have found out that the 
 fellows had gone across to Deadman's Point with two of the 
 Doctor's pupils, and has put Thornton up to making inquiries. 
 It will be awkward, wont it, if we are asked ? " 
 
 "You know what I told them, Fred," returned Burton. 
 " I said I should say nothing unless I was asked, and if I was, 
 should decline to answer." 
 
 " Yes, that is what we both agreed to," said Cressingham. 
 " But our refusing to answer will be much the same thing 
 as admitting that we did take those two fellows across, 
 wont it ? " 
 
 " I suppose it will," said Burton ; " but we can't help that. 
 We have given our promise, and we have nothing to do, but 
 to keep to it. Here's the Doctor at last. Well, we shall know 
 the worst now, at all events." 
 
 As he spoke the door opened, and the Headmaster, followed 
 by Mr Hepburn and a tall gentleman in black, known to 
 many present as Mr Knyvett, entered the room. 
 
 The Doctor's first words set at rest the various anxieties 
 which had troubled his hearers. " I have an announcement 
 to make to you," he said, " of some importance. Mr Hawley, 
 the father of the lady who now owns Hawley Manor, some 
 years ago bequeathed an annuity of one hundred and fifty
 
 1 64 Who did it? 
 
 pounds a year, to a relative of his, named Thorne, but ordered 
 at the same time that at Mr Thome's death the money 
 should go to founding an exhibition for one of the senior 
 scholars of this school, at which Mr Hawley himself had been 
 educated. Fifty pounds a year, for three years, was to be 
 given to the pupil who was at the head of the first class, at the 
 close of the winter half-year. Mr Thorne was comparatively 
 a young man, and I never entertained any expectation that 
 the bequest would take effect, so far as this school is concerned, 
 during my lifetime. Mr Knyvett, however, has this evening 
 brought the tidings of Mr Thome's death after a short illness. 
 He further states that the annuitant had received two of the 
 quarterly payments due for the present year, but Miss Hawley 
 kindly engages to replace these, so that the exhibition may be 
 given entire in the present year. Whoever, therefore, among 
 the first-class boys comes out first in marks at the close of this 
 half-year, will be entitled to the ' Hawley Exhibition,' as it is 
 to be called, of fifty pounds a year for three years. I need 
 not add that I have requested Mr Knyvett to convey to Miss 
 Hawley the thanks of the school generally, as well as my own 
 more particularly, for her great liberality." 
 
 He was on the point of withdrawing, when Mr Hepburn 
 stepped forward. 
 
 "With your permission, sir," he said, " I should like to put 
 a question to you. It has always been the practice, so long as 
 I can remember the school, in event of any boy receiving what 
 is called a black cross, to strike off one hundred marks from 
 his half-year's total ; and in event of his receiving two such 
 marks, to declare him incapable of obtaining any prize at 
 all."
 
 T/te Hawley Exhibition. 165 
 
 The Doctor bowed. " No doubt, Mr Hepburn," he said, 
 " that has always been the practice." 
 
 " Once or twice, if my recollection serves me, it has had 
 a material effect in determining the half-year's prizes." 
 
 " I have no doubt you are correct, though I can remember at 
 this moment no particular case. But why do you ask?" 
 
 " I wish to know whether this Hawley Exhibition will be 
 liable to the same rule." 
 
 " You mean supposing any one of the first-class boys were 
 to incur the penalty of a black cross to his name, whether 
 a hundred marks would be taken off his list, and whether, sup- 
 posing him to incur two black crosses, the offender would 
 become incapable of obtaining the Exhibition, whatever his 
 position on the school register might be ? " 
 
 " That is what I wish to ask, sir." 
 
 " Well, the contingency is a very unlikely one to occur, I 
 should hope ; but supposing it to occur, I see no reason why 
 the regular custom should be departed from. The penalty 
 ought to be, and no doubt would be exacted." 
 
 Mr Hepburn bowed, and soon afterwards the Doctor with- 
 drew, accompanied by Mr Knyvett and Mr Hepburn, who had 
 been invited to supper. 
 
 The announcement, so unexpectedly made, produced a great 
 sensation in the school. The contest for the first-class prize 
 always occasioned some interest among the boys, who are wont 
 to feel some concern in everything relating to their seniors ; 
 and in the present year the contest between Burton, Graves, 
 and Temple three boys so unlike one another, and yet each 
 with his special claims to the first place, rendered the struggle 
 more than commonly exciting. The quiet, steady-going set,
 
 1 66 Who did it? 
 
 of whom Cressingham, Hill, and Lander might be considered 
 as the leaders, maintained that though Clement Burton did 
 not possess the brilliant ability of Temple, or the solid power 
 of Graves, the unvarying soundness of his work made him 
 more than a match for either of his antagonists. When Graves 
 delivered an essay on some historical subject, or Temple a 
 brilliant copy of Greek Iambics, or a clever Latin epigram, and 
 the Doctor bestowing high encomiums on the performances, 
 endorsed them with a number of marks which added formid- 
 able numbers to their total on the register, they would remark 
 that Temple and Graves increased their score, only on rare 
 occasions, while Burton was slowly but surely increasing his 
 total every day of the half-year. 
 
 It needs not to say that the battle between the three com- 
 petitors, however much it might, up to the present time, have 
 engaged the attention of the boys, became now a matter of 
 much greater interest in their eyes. 
 
 Hitherto the palm had consisted of some handsomely bound 
 book. Gibbon's " Decline and Fall," or Russell's " Modern 
 Europe," or some such work prizes for which Graves cared 
 nothing, and Temple very little. But such a sum as fifty 
 pounds a year for three years who was there that would not 
 care for that ? The boys broke up into parties of five or six, 
 almost before the Doctor left the room, and were soon busily 
 engaged in discussing the chances of their favourites and the 
 probable issue of the competition. The register of marks, it 
 should be explained, was kept by Mr Hepburn, and, as a rule, 
 kept very carefully. The junior in every class, when the work 
 for the day was over, was required to carry a list of the marks 
 awarded to each boy for that day's lessons and compositions to
 
 The Hawley Exhibition. 167 
 
 the senior usher, and were by him added every evening to the 
 register. Mr Hepburn once in every week summed up each 
 boy's total, but he did not communicate the result to the boys. 
 Therefore though the latter might form a general idea as to 
 whose name stood at the head of the list, they knew nothing 
 with any certainty. Where there was anything like equality 
 between two competitors, they could only form vague con- 
 jectures. 
 
 In the present half-year, of which only a few weeks had 
 elapsed, one or two of the juniors had taken the trouble to 
 keep a copy of the lists which they had delivered in to Mr 
 Hepburn, and had compared their notes. By these means it 
 had been ascertained, with tolerable accuracy, that Burton 
 was some ten or twelve marks in advance of Temple and 
 Graves, who were very nearly equal, while the fourth, Cressing- 
 ham, was more than twenty in arrear of these two. So far 
 then the day went with Burton; but both Graves's and 
 Temple's supporters insisted upon it that there would very 
 speedily now be a total change in the order of things. They 
 were able to express their opinions the more freely, because 
 both the last mentioned boys were absent from the schoolroom, 
 and Burton and Cressingham were talking apart in a corner, 
 too far off to hear what the others were saying. 
 
 " You'll see Graves go ahead now like a race-horse," said 
 Rawes. " He doesn't care much to get some rotten old book 
 about Greek or Roman antiquities, which would be stuck up 
 in one of the upper shelves of the library at Wilworth ; but 
 fifty pounds is another pair of boots altogether. That gun he 
 was so set upon buying, and for which his guardian wouldn't 
 shell out the money fifty pounds will buy that, and leave a
 
 1 68 Who did it? 
 
 comfortable sum to be spent in powder and bullets. He 
 won't let this prize slip through his fingers, I'll warrant you. 
 It won't be only an essay now and then, which is a thing he 
 particularly fancies, and for which the Doctor always gives him 
 a pot of marks it won't be only the essays that he'll shine in. 
 He can do verses as well as Temple, and the regular school- 
 work better than Burton, if he chooses it, and he will choose 
 it too. See if he doesn't." 
 
 " Will his guardian let him have the money, if he gets the 
 prize?" suggested O'Toole. " My guardian that's my uncle 
 he wouldn't, the nagur ! He'd pay my school-bills with it, 
 and save his own pocket. Didn't my godfather, Phelim 
 O'Casey didn't he leave me a hundred pounds in his will, 
 and didn't it go to pay some dirty tailor's bills ? ' The bills have 
 been standing a long time, Maurice,' says my uncle, 'and 
 the man ought to be paid.' ' Troth and it's a pity ye didn't 
 think of that before,' says I. ' Mr O'Casey left the money to 
 me, and not to Tim O'Shaughnessy, the tailor, nor to you 
 either, uncle Thady, I'm thinking ! ' But I might as well 
 have talked to the rock of Cashel as to him. Sorra a penny 
 of the hundred pounds ever went into my pocket, and may- 
 be none of the fifty would find its way into Stephen's." 
 
 "Oh, old Lumley wouldn't grab Stephen's money, I'll 
 answer for that," said Taunton. "He cuts up rough some- 
 times about his spending too much money. But what Stephen 
 earned, so to speak, himself, by his own exertions, he'd be 
 safe to let him keep. Lumley's not a bad old fellow at bottom, 
 though he kicks up a row now and then." 
 
 Meanwhile equally confident predictions were uttered by 
 Temple's adherents.
 
 The Harvley Exhibition. 169 
 
 " This is a rare stroke of good luck for Charlie," remarked 
 Wright. " It's just the very thing he wanted. I suppose fifty 
 pound is fifty pound to almost everybody, that is, everybody 
 would like to have it. But it is a different matter to Graves, 
 who will have, they say, ever so many thousands a year, as 
 soon as he comes of age ; or to Burton, who, if he hasn't much 
 of his own, anyway, has a rich old aunt, who will leave him 
 all her money some day or other from what it is to Charlie." 
 
 "Ay, I know his mother is poor," said Winburne, "and 
 fifty pounds a-year for three years would be a great haul to 
 him. But there are two things to be considered before we 
 settle that Charlie is to have this money first, that he will 
 work hard to get it, and secondly, that Burton and Graves 
 won't work hard too." 
 
 "Charlie is safe to work for this," said Warner. " He has 
 been doing his best for the last three or four weeks, and he 
 knows this Hawley Exhibition, or whatever it is to be called, 
 is worth getting." 
 
 "And as for Burton and Graves," added Wright, "no 
 doubt they are dangerous horses to run against. But Charlie, 
 when he really puts it on, is a match and more for either of 
 them. Burton is one of your steady goers. He makes good 
 running, and keeps it up without flagging. But in composi- 
 tion, which is what tells most on the register of marks, Charlie 
 will now and then shoot ahead of him like lightning ; and in 
 a stand-up fight with Stephen Graves, I'd back him of the 
 two, though that would be a much more doubtful affair. 
 But Charlie has a strong reason for working, and Graves 
 hasn't There's only one thing that is likely to cause him to 
 lose it"
 
 I/O Who did it? 
 
 " And what is that, George ? " asked Hibbert. 
 
 " Charlie's getting into some serious scrapes, and having 
 a 'nigger ' stuck on to his name," replied Wright. " We must 
 all do our best to prevent that, and also keep a sharp look 
 out on Ravves and Dilke, and his set It's not only Hepburn 
 who dislikes Charlie, and would do him a mischief if he could. 
 That fellow, Dick Rawes, hates him. He has some reason to 
 be sure, and he'd have no scruple in playing any dirty trick, 
 that might lose Charlie the day." 
 
 " It's a good job that the Doctor and Hepburn were both 
 out of the way when that pistol shooting was going on the 
 other day," remarked Hibbert. 
 
 " What, you mean if they had been caught, it would have 
 damaged Charlie's chance." 
 
 " It would have done for it altogether," returned Hibbert, 
 " and Graves's too. Hepburn would have stuck a ' nigger 'on 
 to their names, as sure as fate. And a hundred marks off a 
 fellow's chalk would be too much for him to make up after- 
 wards, let him work ever so hard." 
 
 " I don't quite know that," said Winburne ; " but of course 
 the odds must be enormously against his winning." 
 
 " I agree with you," said Wright," " and therefore I'm 
 particularly anxious now that the pistol match which was 
 agreed upon between Graves and Temple should not come off 
 to-morrow. I'm sorry I persuaded him to shoot it." 
 
 " I don't think you need be afraid of its coming off," said 
 Winburne. 
 
 " Why not? " asked Wright. " The fellows who were down 
 on the shore that day, told me it had been positively settled 
 that it was to be shot on Saturday the iQth, at twelve o'clock
 
 The Hawley Exhibition. 171 
 
 that's to-morrow, you know. And Charlie has quite made 
 up his mind to shoot it." 
 
 " Ay, but Graves hasn't got the pistols that he sent for," 
 rejoined Winburne. " I was by when Tom came back from 
 the coach office, at two o'clock to-day. Graves had given 
 him a shilling to fetch a small box which he expected by the 
 night coach. Tom said nothing had come for him yet, but 
 the box might come by the day coach. Graves was properly 
 put out, and refused to be one of the hares in the paper-chase. 
 ' We must manage this somehow,' he says to Taunton, and 
 they walked off together." 
 
 " Well, but if the pistols come by the day coach," said 
 Hibbert, " that would do as well." 
 
 " No, the day coach never gets in before half-past two in 
 the morning," returned Winburne. " And then the parcels are 
 locked up in the office, and not sent out till the night coach 
 comes in. You may get them by sending, but Graves couldn't 
 send before twelve. I heard Tom tell him plainly he couldn't 
 go on any message before dinner time, if it were ever so. That 
 is what made Graves so savage. As Jerry Taunton remarked. 
 ' Even if the pistols should come by the Eclipse, he couldn't 
 get 'em by twelve o'clock.' " 
 
 " He can borrow Grimes's pistols again," said Hibbert, 
 " and take care this time that the bullets fit tight." 
 
 "He wont do that," observed Winburne. "He said he 
 wouldn't, and he's a fellow that always sticks to what he says. 
 Well, Wright, I think you may feel pretty secure that this match 
 wont come off ; for even if Graves should get his pistols, I'm 
 sure Temple has got nothing to shoot with." 
 
 " I thought he intended borrowing a pistol from Harry
 
 1 72 Who did it? 
 
 Wilder," remarked Hibbert, " and that was what he met 
 Harry for this afternoon." 
 
 " I thought so, too," said Winburne. " Didn't he bring it 
 up with him ? " 
 
 " Well, no, he didn't," said Wright. " Wilder may have 
 agreed to bring it up here, or to Hanger's Cliffs to-morrow, but 
 Charlie didn't bring it in with him. I was by when he came in 
 this evening. I had the curiosity to feel his coat pocket, and 
 there was certainly no pistol in it. But pistol or no pistol, we 
 must try to dissuade him from shooting this match." 
 
 "Let's go and talk to him," said Winburne. "We had 
 better try it on to-night. We shall hardly have an opportunity 
 to-morrow." 
 
 " Where is Charlie ? " inquired Warner. " I haven't seen 
 him since the Doctor left the room." 
 
 " Nor I," said Hibbert. " I have been looking for him ever 
 so long." 
 
 " Here he is," suddenly exclaimed Wright, as Temple entered 
 the room, closely followed by Cobbe, carrying the Doctor's 
 prayer-book and hassock. " Why, where have you been, 
 Charlie, for the last three-quarters of an hour ? Out in the 
 court-yard, hey ? Why, it is raining, isn't it ? " 
 
 " No," replied Temple, " it's not raining, though I think it 
 soon will." 
 
 " What is that noise outside ? " asked Warner. 
 
 " Oh, Mr Knyvett's carriage driving off," said Temple. 
 " He has just said good-night to the Doctor." 
 
 " He'll have a wet drive," remarked Wright, looking through 
 the school window. " Charlie is right. The rain will come 
 down before long, and there'll be a storm into the bargain. 
 There's been thunder in the air all day."
 
 The Hawley Exhibition. 173 
 
 Wright's remark was repeated by more than one boy, as he 
 went up to bed. The wind, which had been rising for more 
 than an hour, was now blowing a gale, and threatened to 
 become tenfold more violent before midnight. It howled 
 round the gables and chimneys of the old Priory as though a 
 host of demons had been let loose. The rain still held off, 
 but the threatening aspect of the skies warned the spectators 
 that it would presently burst forth in all likelihood in a perfect 
 deluge. The inmates of the Priory, however, cared little for 
 wind or storm. The massive old walls, built centuries before, 
 possibly to resist a siege, and fully able, before the days of 
 shot and shell, to do so, were proof against the most furious 
 blast that ever blew, and the small leaded window panes, 
 though they gave but scanty light, offered a more solid resist- 
 ance to the elements than the large squares of modern days. 
 The boys rather enjoyed a storm than otherwise. They found 
 it pleasant to lie in their warm beds and listen to the raving of 
 the wind, and the roaring of the distant sea. Even the flashes 
 of lightning and the crash of thunder did not alarm them 
 much. No one to their knowledge had ever been hurt, and it 
 was picturesque to see the whole landscape, wood, and rock, 
 and sea, suddenly stand out in the broad lurid light, and then 
 disappear as suddenly into darkness. 
 
 But though this was the general feeling, there were excep- 
 tions to it. " I wish there were curtains to my room," said 
 Cressingham, as they mounted the old oak staircase together, 
 "or, what is still better, shutters as you have. It is very 
 pleasant for some things having this room to myself, but not 
 on a night when there's lightning about. I shan't get a wink 
 of sleep till it's all over."
 
 174 Who did iff 
 
 " Do you mind the lightning ? " asked Burton. " I don't 
 in the least Why, Fred," he added, suddenly, "you had 
 better change rooms with me to-night. You can shut these 
 shutters and draw the curtain over them too, and then you 
 wont see anything of the lightning. I don't usually shut the 
 shutters except when there is a very bright moon, but they 
 quite keep that out" 
 
 Burton, it should be mentioned, occupied, as head of the 
 school, the best of the boys' bedrooms the one which tradi- 
 tion said had been the sleeping room of the Prior of the 
 Convent. He would have been allowed to have this to him- 
 self, but one of the junior boys had been put under his charge 
 that half-year, and his bed had, with Burton's consent, been 
 placed in his room. Little Taylor, a quiet, timid boy, had the 
 same dislike as Cressingham to the lightning, and would 
 probably lie awake for more than half the night, unless the 
 shutters should be closed. The room allotted to Cressingham 
 was a good deal smaller, and was lighted only by a narrow slit 
 in the wall. 
 
 The latter caught at his friend's proposal. " I shall be very 
 glad to accept your offer," he said. " I have no doubt I shall 
 sleep as sound as a top in your room. And I suppose no one 
 will object." 
 
 " Taylor wont," replied Burton ; " he'll be glad to have the 
 shutters fastened. Hepburn might object, I daresay. He 
 might object to anything. We had better say nothing to him, 
 or anyone else, about it, or it might get to his ears. I'll just 
 take my night-gown and hair-brush into your room, and you 
 bring yours into mine. That will be all that we need do." 
 
 The change was soon made, and the boys were just on the
 
 TJie Hawley Exhibition. 175 
 
 point of entering their rooms, when their attention was attracted 
 by voices, which came from the floor below them. One of the 
 speakers was anxious apparently not to be overheard. But in 
 the position in which they chanced to be standing, every word 
 was plainly audible. 
 
 " I can't let you out, Mr Temple," said Cobbe. " I didn't 
 want to get you into trouble, or I ought to have told the 
 Doctor of your having been out before prayers in the court- 
 yard. There's nothing he's more particular about ; and there 
 was Mr Knyvett's carriage too, waiting about, and his coach- 
 man saw you out there, and might tell his master of it, and 
 he'd tell the Doctor." 
 
 " I only want to go out for ten minutes, Cobbe," pleaded 
 Temple, "only ten minutes, I assure you. I promise you 
 faithfully to be back in that time." 
 
 " I can't do it, sir, it's as much as my place is worth. The 
 Doctor would be very angry if he knew that you hadn't gone 
 to bed. I'll go out myself and fetch anything you may have 
 left out there, if so be that's what you want ; though to be sure, 
 if you had left anything out there, you would have brought it 
 in yourself." 
 
 " I don't want you to bring anything in, Tom," exclaimed 
 Temple, his excitement growing greater every moment. " I 
 only want to go out for ten minutes. I was prevented just 
 now because Mr Knyvett's servants were standing outside. I 
 tell you I must go out to-night, and I will, and it will be a bad 
 job for any one or anything that tries to stop me." 
 
 " Here's Mr Hepburn coming ! " exclaimed the school- 
 servant in accents of dismay. " I hear his step. Run for it, 
 Mr Temple, or this here will be a bad job for^w*, I judge."
 
 i/6 Who did it? 
 
 At this moment, the heavy tread of some one walking along 
 the passage which led from the Doctor's drawing-room to the 
 school precincts, became audible. The next instant, Temple 
 skimmed lightly up the staircase to his bedroom, which corre- 
 sponded to that of Cressingham at the further end of the 
 gallery ; while from below came the clash of the bolts which 
 Tom was drawing. 
 
 " A rum go that," whispered Cressingham to his friend. 
 " What can Temple want to go out into the court-yard for at 
 this time of night." 
 
 " That is more than I can say, Fred," returned Burton. " I 
 shouldn't fancy the court-yard would be a very pleasant place 
 to go for a walk in to-night. Hark ! there comes the rain a 
 regular downpour, and it will last an hour or two most likely. 
 It will be over one's shoes in mud in another half-hour I 
 expect ! " 
 
 " In less than that," rejoined Cressingham ; " and only listen 
 how the wind is howling. Temple may say he is determined 
 to go out, but I expect he will change his mind now. Rather 
 he than I anyway ! "
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 A STRANGE DISCOVERY. 
 
 WHEN the boys met in the schoolroom before prayers on the 
 following morning, all evidences of the storm had disappeared 
 from the sky ; which was now as bright and blue as though it 
 had never been darkened by cloud, or had gleamed with light- 
 ning. The wind had sunk to a soft summer breeze, and out to 
 sea a long rolling swell was the only remaining trace of the 
 wild commotion of the previous night. But in the court-yard 
 outside the house, there were plain enough indications of the 
 heavy fall of rain, which had lasted with a few intermissions 
 from ten o'clock at night to four or five in the morning. The 
 turf was so soft that the shoes of any one who walked over it 
 sank two inches at least below the surface, and in the roadway 
 there were large pools, which the drains had been insufficient 
 to carry away. The boys exchanged their experiences of the 
 incidents of the night, as they stood in clusters awaiting the 
 arrival of the masters. These, it would appear, were at once 
 various and strange. Some insisted on it that a party of 
 travellers had come about the middle of the night to ask for 
 shelter, others affirmed that there had indeed been midnight 
 visitors, but their object was not shelter but plunder. Others 
 
 M
 
 178 Who did iff 
 
 again were positive that there had been a wreck out at sea. 
 They had distinctly heard minute guns fired ; though this last 
 assertion was at last diminished to a confident assurance that 
 one such shot, at all events, had been heard. According to a 
 fourth report, Neptune had been very active during the night, 
 driving off the applicants for shelter, or the would-be robbers, 
 as the case might be. 
 
 George Wright was the centre of one of these groups, 
 listening with amused interest to, and passing his comments on, 
 the various statements put forth by his schoolfellows. Temple 
 stood by, leaning against the headmaster's desk. He looked 
 anxious and depressed, and paid little or no heed to the con- 
 versation of his schoolfellows. At another part of the room 
 Graves and his following were assembled, not talking about 
 the occurrences of last night, but about a subject which 
 appeared to interest them quite as much. 
 
 " You are resolved to shoot this match then, Stephen ? " 
 inquired Taunton. " I hardly thought, after all, that it would 
 ever come off." 
 
 " I had undertaken to shoot it," answered Graves shortly. 
 
 "Yes, but circumstances have considerably altered since 
 then," observed Dilke. " If I don't very much mistake, Temple 
 would be very glad to be off it" 
 
 " I make no doubt he would," exclaimed Rawes, " if Stephen 
 would let him. In the first place, now that Stephen has got 
 his pistols from Wilworth " 
 
 " Temple doesn't know that," remarked Payne. "Why, even 
 we didn't know it till some ten minutes ago, when Stephen 
 said they had arrived, and we don't know how he got them 
 now,"
 
 A Strange Discovery. 179 
 
 He glanced somewhat curiously at Graves as he spoke, but 
 Graves made no remark. 
 
 " It doesn't signify," said Taunton, " so far as Temple is 
 concerned, whether the pistols have come or not. Temple is 
 not so much afraid of losing the match, as of being caught 
 shooting it ; in which case he would lose this Hawley exhibi- 
 tion, or whatever it is to be called." 
 
 " What ! he makes sure of getting it then, does he ?" cried 
 Dilke. 
 
 " I don't quite say that," replied Taunton, " but he thinks, 
 no doubt, that if he tries hard, he has a good chance; and that 
 is certainly no more than the fact. But that chance would be 
 of course forfeited if he had a ' black cross/ as he certainly 
 would have for using firearms. I just want to remind you, 
 Steve, of that circumstance too. I suppose, there is no doubt 
 that you would like to gain this exhibition, as much as Temple 
 does." 
 
 " Certainly, Jerry," assented Graves. " I should have no 
 objection to fifty pounds a year for three years to help out my 
 allowance at Oxford, not to speak of buying your cousin's 
 gun. I needn't say I have thought of all that. But I choose 
 to set right the mistake that was made about my shooting and 
 Temple's last week. Moreover, when I have said I mean to 
 do a thing, it is my practice to do it, and I'm not going to let 
 a row with the Doctor, or the loss of a prize, or a lot of money 
 either, prevent my doing it. If the match is shot, where I 
 suggested, under Hanger's Cliffs, it will be next to impossible 
 for any one to see us. They are so high and project so far 
 over the sands, that no one from the top could discover what 
 is going on below. The only place we could be seen from
 
 i8o Who did it? 
 
 would be out at sea ; and if a fellow was put to watch at Cockle 
 Head, he could see any boat coming, and warn us in time. I 
 consider, therefore, there is no risk of detection. But, any 
 way, I mean to shoot the match." 
 
 "Bravo, Stephen," exclaimed OToole; "ye're the broth of 
 a boy, so ye are. But I judge ye'll not find Charlie Temple 
 as bold as yourself. And it takes two to make a fight, as they 
 say at Ballycooney." 
 
 "We had better bring Temple to the point, Stephen," said 
 Dilke. " Let us ask him before Thornton comes in." 
 
 " Very well, if you like it, I have no objection," returned 
 Graves. 
 
 The party moved up to the spot where Temple and his 
 friends were standing, and Taunton addressed him. 
 
 " I suppose, Temple," he said, " you remember that the 
 pistol match between you and Graves was fixed for to-day at 
 twelve o'clock. Nothing has been said about it for the last 
 few days, and therefore we wish to make sure that there is 
 no mistake." 
 
 " At a quarter past twelve, Jerry," corrected Dilke. " The 
 fellows could not be down at Hanger's Cliffs before a quarter 
 past twelve." 
 
 " A quarter past then," said Taunton. " You will be there, 
 I suppose, Temple, at that time ? " 
 
 Temple coloured crimson, but he made no answer. Pre- 
 sently Wright spoke for him. " I don't know what Temple 
 may mean to do, but I must say I think things have greatly 
 altered since this match was talked of " 
 
 " Things altered," repeated Dilke ; " you mean, I suppose, 
 that this Hawley prize was not announced then. I don't 
 see "
 
 A Strange Discovery. \ 8 1 
 
 "Nor do I see," broke in Temple, "what you have to do 
 with the matter, Dilke. Graves, it may be true that I am 
 unwilling to shoot the match for reasons of my own " 
 
 " Reasons of your own ! " cried Rawes. " What reasons ? " 
 
 " It is no concern ^f yours what my reasons may be," 
 answered Temple hotly. "It is enough that they have 
 nothing whatever to do with this Hawley prize." 
 
 " Oh, they have nothing to do with the Hawley prize," re- 
 peated Rawes. " Well, then, your change is rather difficult 
 to explain. You borrowed Harry Wilder's pistols only yester- 
 day, you know " 
 
 Temple started. " How do you know that ? " he asked 
 hastily. 
 
 " I saw them," answered Rawes ; " that is, I saw the pistol- 
 case in Wilder's hand, when you went up to speak to him. 
 I suppose you arranged with him to bring them to Hanger's 
 Cliffs at twelve to-day. You don't mean to deny that ? " 
 
 Temple was silent. 
 
 " I see you can't deny it. Well, what can have happened 
 since six o'clock yesterday evening, to change your mind, 
 except hearing of this Hawley prize ? " 
 
 Temple still made no answer. His embarrassment was so 
 evident and so distressing, that none of his friends knew how 
 to interfere in his behalf. What he might ultimately have 
 said can only be conjectured ; for at this moment the 
 Doctor, who was fully a quarter of an hour behind his time 
 (a most rare circumstance with him), entered the room, and 
 going to the head of the table, knelt down to read prayers. 
 The boys saw in a moment that something unusual had taken 
 place. His manner was constrained and abrupt, a strange
 
 1 82 Who did it? 
 
 contrast to his ordinary calm and sell-possessed demeanour ; 
 and his features expressed not only perplexity, but anger. 
 He had no sooner risen from his knees, than he called to the 
 boys and servants assembled to keep their places. 
 
 " I have a very strange and unpleasant communication to 
 make to you," he began. " An outrage was committed last 
 night, which will necessitate the most careful inquiry. I don't 
 know whether any of you have been told anything about it." 
 He glanced from face to face as he spoke, but apparently he 
 could read nothing there but surprise, and he went on. 
 
 " It would appear that none of you have heard anything, 
 and I must tell you. You will all be as sorry, I think, as I 
 was, to learn that Captain Gurdon's blood-hound, Neptune, was 
 found this morning lying dead on the turf outside the court- 
 yard wall. He had been shot through the heart. Captain 
 Gurdon himself is absent, but I have written to him." 
 
 There was a cry of astonishment and distress, followed by a 
 dead silence. Presently the Doctor spoke again. " The dis- 
 covery was made early this morning by some one who 
 chanced to be walking that way, and he immediately informed 
 both myself and Baines of the fact. Baines and another 
 constable have been making a hasty examination of the spot 
 where this occurred. What they tell me makes matters a 
 good deal worse. They say the act must have been committed 
 by some inmate of this house." 
 
 He paused again, hoping that some one would now offer 
 an explanation of the affair. But the boys only looked from 
 one to another with faces of bewilderment and dismay ; and 
 he began anew for the third time. 
 
 " If the constables are right in their conjecture, and the
 
 A Strange Discovery. 183 
 
 person who did this is present in this room, I entreat him to 
 come forward and honestly confess the truth. I shall be 
 willing to hear anything that may be said in explanation or 
 extenuation. It will be far less painful that the offender should 
 be brought to light by his own voluntary admission, than by 
 the agency of the law." 
 
 He once more paused, but still no one spoke. 
 
 " I am sorry the culprit, whoever he may be," he resumed, 
 " has not the manliness to make an avowal. Well, then, 
 there is nothing for it, but a minute and searching inquiry. 
 Baines and Mr Hepburn are still engaged in their investi- 
 gations ; but I will tell you what is known so far. The 
 dog, it appears, was let loose last night, soon after the storm 
 began. Thunder and lightning cause him to howl so loudly, 
 that he would have disturbed every one's rest. Therefore, 
 Cobbe always untied him when a storm was coming on ; when 
 he would hide himself in some dark nook where he could not 
 see the lightning. But Cobbe only let him into the court- 
 yard, and his body was found on the other side of the wall. 
 How did he get out there ? There are two gates as you know 
 in the wall. Both are locked regularly every evening at nine 
 o'clock, and the key is brought to me. They were certainly 
 so locked last night. Mr Knyvett's carriage did not drive off 
 till nearly nine. I went out to see him off, and the keys 
 were brought to me before I re-entered the house. I put them 
 in my pocket and took them up into my room, when I went 
 to bed. No one could have got possession of them. The 
 locks have been examined. They have been neither forced 
 nor tampered with. How did the dog get out ? The most 
 natural conjecture is that some one has a duplicate key to the
 
 1 84 Who did iff 
 
 gate, and it must be some one whom the dog knew, 
 or he would have flown at him instantly. This he certainly 
 did not do, or the noise of the struggle must have been heard. 
 Has any one such a key, or can any one, I ask once more, 
 give any explanation of this affair ? 
 
 "Stop, Fred," whispered Burton, drawing Cressingham 
 back, as he saw he was on the point of saying something. 
 " Think a minute before you speak." 
 
 " Surely, Clem, we ought to say what we know," answered 
 Cressingham, in the same guarded tone ; " there can't be any 
 reasonable doubt how poor old Neptune got out. He must 
 have followed Temple out through that narrow passage you 
 told me of. You remember what Temple said to Cobbe? 
 He had been out and he wanted to go out again, and he would 
 go out." 
 
 " I remember quite well, but we don't know that he did go 
 out again, and Nep could not have followed him out before 
 we went to bed, because he wasn't untied until the lightning 
 began, which was long afterwards." 
 
 " We needn't say anything about Temple," returned Cres- 
 singham. " We need only tell the Doctor that there is a 
 passage by which poor old Nep could have got out." 
 
 "That would make matters no better. Nep must have 
 followed some one out. He couldn't open the trap. Besides 
 that we should have to explain to the Doctor how we dis- 
 covered the existence of the trap, and that would involve 
 Temple in a tremendous row. I don't say we oughtn't to 
 speak ultimately if it should be found necessary, but you 
 see " 
 
 "I see that you are a very generous fellow, Clem "
 
 A Strange Discovery. 185 
 
 " Hush, pray, don't say that," said Burton, in a tone of great 
 distress. " I only want to be just." 
 
 " Well, any way I won't say anything now," rejoined 
 Cressingham. " To be sure one could speak at any time, and 
 this matter may be found out in a different way. Ah ! and 
 here comes Hepburn, who looks as if he had found out 
 something, and so does old Baines." 
 
 The headmaster seemed to be of the same mind. " Have 
 you discovered anything, Mr Hepburn," he said, " that will 
 clear up this mysterious business ? " 
 
 "Well, sir, we are of opinion that a clue has now been 
 found. Everything, I ought to say, goes to prove that some 
 one from this house was either the direct perpetrator of this 
 act, or was an accomplice in it. There are footprints which 
 show that some one crossed the court-yard after the rain began, 
 and before it had ceased ; but the heavy down-pour has 
 washed them out of all shape. There are marks of dirt on 
 the wall of the house in one place, as though some one had 
 scrambled through a window. One bar in this window is 
 found to be loose, so that any one lifting it up, and pushing it 
 on one side, could enter the house through it." 
 
 " I am sorry to hear it, Mr Hepburn ; and still more sorry 
 to tell you that I have put the question we agreed upon to 
 the boys and servants, and have had no response to it. But 
 you said you had found some clue. Let us hear what it is." 
 
 " We have been examining the body of the dog, sir. The 
 bullet with which he was killed went right through the heart, 
 but it isn't anywhere to be found. We further think that 
 there must have been something of a struggle before he was 
 shot. A piece of cloth, a scrap apparently of some one's
 
 1 86 Who did it? 
 
 trousers, was found in his mouth. Robbins, the school tailor, 
 has now been sent for to examine this. He says it comes from 
 a roll of stuff, which he bought in the spring of last year from 
 a foreign house, and is different, in some respects, from any 
 other roll in his shop. He says that he made several pairs of 
 trousers from it for boys in this school indeed he has never 
 made trousers from it for any one except them." 
 
 " I was afraid so," exclaimed the Doctor, in a tone of great 
 distress. " Boys, will not the offender speak now ? " 
 
 He looked once more appealingly into the faces before 
 him. Many of them expressed astonishment, perplexity, and 
 alarm. Still no one spoke, and he signed to Mr Hepburn to 
 go on. 
 
 " By an examination of his books Robbins is able to give 
 a list of those for whom the trousers were made. I have it 
 here. Several of the boys named have left the school. Those 
 remaining are five in number. Cressingham, Barton, Field, 
 Graves, and Temple." 
 
 " Let those five boys stand forward," said the Doctor. 
 " Mind," he added, " the questions which I am going to ask 
 you are not put because any one of you in particular is sus- 
 pected of this outrage, but because the trousers must have 
 belonged to one of you. Cressingham, you are the first in 
 alphabetical order. Did you leave this house at any time 
 last night, and were you in any way concerned in this busi- 
 ness?" 
 
 " I did not leave the house, sir," said Cressingham, " and 
 was not in any way concerned in it." 
 
 " Good. Darton, I ask you the same two questions ? " 
 
 Darton, a boy in the third class, came forward, looking very
 
 A Strange Discovery. 187 
 
 confused and abashed at being brought into notice, but he 
 answered in very nearly the same words which Cressingham 
 had used. So did Field, of whom the inquiry was next made. 
 
 " Graves, I see, comes next," observed the Doctor, con- 
 sulting his list. " I put the same questions to you, Graves? " 
 
 Graves made no response. 
 
 "Why don't you speak, Graves?" said the headmaster 
 after a pause. " You surely heard me. Did you leave the 
 house last night, and were you in any way concerned in this 
 affair?" 
 
 " I would rather not say anything, sir." 
 
 " Why not ? " 
 
 " I don't see why I should be required to answer, sir. 
 Nothing has been alleged that attaches suspicion to me." 
 
 " I don't agree with you. There is the same reason for 
 asking you as for asking the others, who have answered 
 plainly enough. I will, however, finish my inquiries before 
 returning to you. Temple, you are the last of the five. What 
 is your reply to my questions ? " 
 
 "I hope you will excuse my not answering, sir," said 
 Temple. 
 
 "Indeed, I cannot excuse it, Temple, or understand it 
 either. Why cannot you two boys, Graves and Temple, why 
 cannot you answer two simple questions, if as I still hope 
 you are innocent?" 
 
 " I would rather not say anything, sir." 
 
 " That is what Graves said ! I cannot be satisfied with 
 either of you. A further examination must be made, so far 
 as you two are concerned. Mr Hepburn, will you be good 
 enough to go upstairs, and request Mrs Edwards to compare
 
 1 88 Who did it? 
 
 carefully the lists of clothes brought here by Graves and 
 Temple, noting particularly whether all the pairs of trousers 
 belonging to them are to be found ; and if they are, whether 
 a piece has been torn away from the leg of any one of them. 
 Meanwhile, Bartholomew, do you, with Cobbe's help, search 
 the bureaus belonging to Graves and Temple." 
 
 " I protest against my bureau being searched, sir," remon- 
 strated Graves. " I don't think that ought to be done, unless 
 some ground of suspicion can be alleged against me." 
 
 " Again, I can't agree with you, Graves. I don't understand 
 what reason you can have for objecting." 
 
 " The reason is plain enough, sir," said Baines, holding up 
 a mahogany case, which he had taken from a drawer in the 
 bureau, and opening it. "Here are a brace of pistols, a 
 powder-flask, and a bag of bullets." 
 
 " They have never been used for a long time," exclaimed 
 Taunton. "If you examine them you will find that to 
 be so." 
 
 Baines took his pocket-handkerchief, and with the help of 
 the ramrod, thrust it down the barrels of the two pistols, one 
 after another. 
 
 " The pistols are clean enough no doubt, sir," he said, pre- 
 sently, " but they might have been fired and cleaned after- 
 wards." 
 
 " Well, Graves," said the Doctor, " what have you to say to 
 this ? You cannot but be aware that your possession of these 
 pistols is a suspicious circumstance." 
 
 " I can't help it, if it is," returned Graves, doggedly. " I 
 don't see why it should be. It doesn't follow because I have 
 a brace of pistols of my own, that I shot a dog with them."
 
 "THE REASON IS PLAIN ENOUGH. 
 
 Page 188.
 
 A Strange Discovery. 1 89 
 
 " Where did you get these pistols from ? " 
 
 " From home. I bought them of a friend." 
 
 " Indeed, I shall send them at once to your guardian, with 
 a letter informing him of what has taken place here. What 
 further may be done in your case is a matter for consideration. 
 Well, Mr Hepburn," he added, as the door opened, and the 
 usher re-entered. "Have Graves's and Temple's clothes been 
 compared with their lists and found correct." 
 
 " I am sorry to say not, sir. One pair of Graves's trousers 
 has a piece torn out of the leg ; and one pair of Temple's is 
 missing." 
 
 Indeed, Graves, what do you say to this ? 
 
 " I am distrusted, I shall say no more, sir," replied Graves. 
 
 "You are most unwise. Temple, what is your explanation ? 
 Can you produce the missing trousers, or explain what has 
 become of them ?" 
 
 All eyes were turned upon Temple. His restless uneasi- 
 ness, so singular a contrast to Graves's dogged coolness, struck 
 every one present. The Doctor had to repeat his question, 
 before he replied. Then he said, " I have lost them." 
 
 " Lost them ? when, and how ? " 
 
 " If you please, sir, I would rather not say." 
 
 " I am sorry to hear that. You heard me tell Graves just 
 now, that his possession of the pistols, I may add now the 
 condition of his trousers, laid him open to a certain amount 
 of suspicion. The loss of your trousers, I cannot but say, has 
 an equally suspicious appearance." 
 
 Temple hung his head, but said nothing. 
 
 "Go on with your search, Baines," said the headmaster, 
 "you have not examined Mr Temple's bureau."
 
 190 Who did iff 
 
 "Oh, if you please, sir," cried Temple, "do not search my 
 bureau!" 
 
 "Why not, Temple? This is really very strange. One 
 would think that you and Graves had agreed beforehand to 
 make the same answers and requests." 
 
 " I would rather not say, sir; but pray, don't !" 
 
 " I cannot agree to that. Go on, Baines." 
 
 The constable obeyed ; and presently from the very bottom 
 of the bureau he drew forth a bundle of clothes ; tied up in a 
 large handkerchief. " Ah," he cried, " a lot of clothes ! I'll 
 pound it, the trousers are among them ! They are not though," 
 he added, a minute or two afterwards as he untied the hand- 
 kerchief, and took up the contents one after another. " Why, 
 these are women's clothes ! Here is a shawl, an old petti- 
 coat and gown, and a gipsy's straw bonnet ! " 
 
 All present stared in amazement at these strange habiliments, 
 which, on a less serious occasion, would have provoked a 
 burst of merriment. Presently Mr Hepburn stepped up and 
 scrutinised them closely. " I am sure I have seen these 
 articles," he said, " and that not very long ago, though I can't 
 think where it was. Stop ! " he added a minute afterwards, 
 " it was in the court-yard here, about a fortnight ago. They 
 were worn by that gipsy girl, who escaped, and whom the con- 
 stables have never been able to find. Yes, I remember the 
 bonnet and that stain on the shawl, as clearly as possible. 
 How did you come in possession of these clothes, Temple ? " 
 
 " You had better tell the truth, Temple," said the Doctor. 
 " Whatever you may have done, it will be your wisest course 
 lo own it." 
 
 " I will, sir," said Temple in a low voice. " One day,
 
 A Strange Discovery. 191 
 
 about a fortnight ago, I had a dispute with one of the other 
 boys, who knew that I had no money, as to whether I could 
 produce half-a-crown before supper time that evening. It was 
 the day on which Captain Gurdon and Mr Wilkes took the 
 first-class to Hawley Manor. I could think of no other way 
 of getting the money, but that of dressing myself up as a 
 beggar, and persuading Captain Gurdon and the others to 
 give it niCi * I borrowed a lot of clothes, and met them in 
 Hawley Wood. They were imposed upon, and did give me 
 a lot of silver, believing that I was really a gipsy girl. I re- 
 turned the money a day or two afterwards dressed in the same 
 disguise. It was then that Mr Hephurn saw me." 
 
 " You did a very foolish thing, Temple, and one for which, 
 of course, you must be punished, though the offence is 
 altogether of a different character from the outrage committed 
 last night. From whom did you get these clothes ? " 
 
 " From an old woman who lives a little way down the lane 
 Mrs Meggott she is called. I had bought one or two 
 things of her before," answered Temple. 
 
 " Do you know the woman of whom Mr Temple speaks, 
 Bartholomew ? " said the Doctor, turning to Baines. 
 
 " Yes, [I know her," returned Baines dryly, " though her 
 acquaintance ain't no credit to nobody. She has taken herself 
 off now no one knows where. She has been gone yesterday 
 was a week. She was afraid, I judge, of being took before 
 Squire Wolford, or Colonel Wilder, or your reverence, for 
 being concerned in a robbery of some clothes from farmer 
 Wall's drying ground." 
 
 " Well, Temple, I am sorry you should have allowed 
 yourself to have any dealings with such a person. But all
 
 192 Who did it 1 
 
 this does not explain the loss of your trousers. What have 
 you to say about that ? " 
 
 Temple coloured painfully, but he said nothing. 
 
 " Well, boys," resumed the Doctor, after the pause of a 
 minute or two, " I am sorry this matter has not been cleared 
 up. There are not, to my mind, sufficient grounds for 
 directly charging either Graves or Temple with it, but there 
 are very serious grounds for suspicion against both. I hope 
 they may be proved innocent hereafter. Meanwhile, I must 
 not forget that two things have come incidentally to light 
 in this inquiry, which cannot be passed over first of all, 
 Graves's breach of the rules in bringing the pistols to school ; 
 and secondly, Temple's disguising himself as he confesses to 
 have done, and going out of bounds. These are matters 
 requiring severe notice. Mr Hepburn, you will place a black 
 cross against the names of Graves and Temple. Of course, 
 if it should hereafter be proved that either they or any of 
 their schoolfellows are implicated in the offence committed 
 last night, it will be a much more serious affair. Now, boys, 
 you can go into the playground. This morning has been 
 lost, but we will resume work as usual this afternoon."
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 THE PISTOL. 
 
 THE boys left the schoolroom much more quietly than was 
 their ordinary habit, and when they had reached the play- 
 ground, gathered together in small groups, too deeply in- 
 terested in the extraordinary matters which had been brought 
 before their notice to set on foot any games. The head- 
 master retired to his study, buried in thought. Mr Hepburn 
 would have followed, but as he was leaving the deserted 
 schoolroom, Baines touched his arm, and begged him to 
 remain. 
 
 Mr Hepburn started. He too had been lost in thought. 
 " What is it, Baines ? " he asked. 
 
 " I should like a word, private, with you, sir. The 
 Doctor didn't tell the young gentlemen as 'twas you as found 
 the dog " 
 
 " No, we agreed it would be better not to mention it. It 
 would probably put the person who did this on his guard 
 against me." 
 
 "Just so, sir. I thought perhaps, too, you might have 
 found the bullet " 
 
 "No, I didn't. But do you think that a matter of much 
 consequence ? " 
 
 N
 
 194 Who did it? 
 
 " Well, this finding of pistols in Mr Graves's possession ' 
 " Mr Graves," repeated the usher quickly. " Do you think, 
 then, that he may have done it ? " 
 
 " May have done it, sir ! Why, to be sure he may. I don't 
 know that a man can say at present that 'tis clear who did it; 
 but certainly things look very black so far as he is concerned. 
 What with the tear on his trousers and the pistols in his cup- 
 board, the case is pretty strong. If the bullet should turn up 
 and be found to fit his pistols, he'd hardly get off before a 
 jury. I don't think much of his pistols being clean pistols 
 is easy cleaned." 
 
 " You don't think then that Mr Temple " 
 
 "Mr Temple, sir? He seems a strange sort of young 
 gentleman, and up to any kind of mischief. And it's odd 
 about his trousers ; and, to be sure, he wouldn't say any more 
 than Mr Graves, that he didn't go out last night ; but there's 
 no positive evidence against him as there is against t'other. 
 Mayhap they two were out larking together, and they've 
 agreed to keep it dark. Do you know if they are great cronies, 
 Mr Hepburn?" 
 
 " Well, no, I believe not," said the usher. " I have reason 
 to believe that they dislike one another. But, of course, it is 
 possible that they may have gone out together for some pur- 
 pose or other. But if you attach so much weight to finding 
 this bullet, why don't you go out again and make another 
 search for it ? I have told you all I knew. I thought there 
 had been a wreck in the bay, and went out very early this 
 morning to the top of the knoll, which commands a view of 
 the sea. The firstt hing I saw, as I crossed the shrubbery, 
 was the body of the dog. I turned it over and saw that it had
 
 The Pistol. . 195 
 
 been shot through the heart. The ball seemed to have passed 
 through it indeed there was the mark on both sides of the 
 chest." 
 
 " I heard the Doctor say the dog had been shot through the 
 heart, sir ; but if so, it couldn't have run any distance. The 
 bullet must be in the ground near the spot where it fell." 
 
 " I can't answer for that. But as I said before, if you think 
 the matter to be of importance, why don't you go out and 
 examine the place. I'll go with you." 
 
 " I thought the young gentlemen might be about, or I should 
 have asked you to go. Better make the examination as private 
 as possible." 
 
 "There is no fear of the boys interrupting you, Baines. 
 They are in the playground, quite out of sight of the shrubbery. 
 There is no fear of anyone interrupting us. We had better 
 go at once." 
 
 They went out accordingly. The grounds immediately sur- 
 rounding Holmwood Priory have been already described. On 
 three sides of the house there was a belt of trees and shrubs. 
 In some places this approached close to the outer wall, hardly 
 allowing a passage under it. At the point of the grounds 
 which was furthest from the sea, nothing could be seen of 
 the surrounding country on account of the density of the 
 foliage. 
 
 "This was the spot where I found the body," said Mr 
 Hepburn, pointing to a patch of turf which was still stained 
 with poor Neptune's blood. " You see it is a slight slope. 
 If the bullet passed through the dog's heart, it would go into 
 the ground just about there, and as the ground was very soft, 
 it would penetrate pretty deeply."
 
 1 96 Who did it? 
 
 " So it would, sir," returned Baines ; " but now I see the 
 place, I can perceive that the dog wasn't killed where you 
 found him lying. Look here, sir, at these footmarks. Some 
 one came up through the wood there. There may have been 
 one, or there may have been more. The rains have washed 
 the marks about too much for any one to feel sure about that. 
 But whoever it was he, or they, came along under that bank 
 up to here. Here it was that the dog made his spring, and 
 he was dragged along, alive or dead, to this place. Look at 
 those scratches in the ground. They were made by his 
 claws, as he was lugged along. There's the place where to 
 look for the bullet. But the ground is so swampy and over- 
 grown with weeds that one might pretty nearly as well look 
 for a needle in a hayloft ! Stay, though. What's that, sir ? " 
 He pointed, as he spoke, to a spot a few feet off, where some- 
 thing glittering in the sunshine was to be discerned in the 
 midst of a large patch of weeds. " It's not the bullet, sir," he 
 added a moment afterwards, " but it's something more to the 
 purpose. It's a pistol. I'll wager it, this is the one that did 
 the trick ! " 
 
 " A pistol," repeated Mr Hepburn, " that is important in- 
 deed. The first thing, of course, will be to ascertain whether 
 it has recently been discharged." 
 
 Baines again took out his pocket handkerchief, and with 
 the help this time of a small twig which he cut, thrust it down 
 the barrel. It came out black with powder. There was no 
 doubt that the pistol had been recently fired. 
 
 " Did you ever see this pistol before, sir ? " asked Baines, 
 " or can you guess to whom it belongs ? I have never seen 
 it, I am sure, nor one like it,"
 
 The Pistol 197 
 
 Mr Hepburn took the pistol and turned it carefully over. 
 " It is a valuable pistol I should think," he said, " and of 
 foreign workmanship. Look at those carvings and silver 
 mountings, they have something of an Oriental look about 
 them ; and see those letters, can you make them out ? " 
 
 " Not very plain, sir," said the constable. " There's three 
 of them. The first is an M, I think." 
 
 " You are right, Baines. The first is an M, so is the second, 
 and the third is either a C or a G." He took his pocket- 
 handkerchief and rubbed the letters. " Yes, it is a G," he 
 added presently. " They are old English characters ; it is 
 certainly a G. ' M.M.G.' Who can that stand for ? " 
 
 " G, sir ? mayn't that be Graves ? Do you happen to know 
 what his Christian name is, sir ? " 
 
 " He has only one Christian name, and that is Stephen," 
 replied the usher. 
 
 "But he may have some relation whose Christian name 
 begins with M," urged Baines. 
 
 " I don't think he has any relations, blood relations that is, 
 except his sister," said Mr Hepburn. " His father's name I 
 chance to know was the same as his own. Still, however, 
 inquiries should be made about that." 
 
 " Of course, sir. Well, the first thing will be to ascertain 
 to whom this pistol belongs, and whether it's owner lent it to 
 any of the Doctor's young gentlemen." 
 
 " You feel sure it was fired by one of the young gentle- 
 men ? " asked the usher. 
 
 " We have gone through that already, sir," returned Baines, 
 a little impatiently. " It is quite certain that some one left 
 the house late last night and returned to it. The footmarks 
 shew that, and the dirt on the window sill. Then the dog
 
 198 Who did it? 
 
 must have been let through the gate, and by some one he 
 knew he was either let through, or he pushed through after 
 him. The dog couldn't have got here no other way. Then 
 the dog seized some one ; the scrap of cloth between his teeth 
 proves that. Well, I should have said myself it wasn't the 
 Holmwood young gent, but the tother as he seized; but if 
 Robbins is right, as I suppose he is, it must have been the 
 Holmwood gent. I suppose the dog was going to seize the 
 tother, when the Holmwood gent interferes strikes him 
 p'raps and the dog turns on him. Then comes the ques- 
 tion, who fired the shot ? It might have been either, but I 
 think 'twas the Holmwood gent. For why ? If the pistol be- 
 longed to the outsider, to be sure he'd carry it away with him. 
 But if it belonged to one of your young gentlemen he'd be 
 very likely to hide it away, because next day there'd be pretty 
 sure to be a search, and if he took it into the house, it would 
 be found in his possession. I think it's tolerably sure to have 
 been one of Dr Thornton's scollards as did this." 
 
 " I am afraid there is only too much likelihood in what you 
 say, Baines, and you think the culprit was, most probably, 
 Mr Graves, do you?" 
 
 " Humph. I did think so, sir, a quarter of an hour ago, 
 no doubt, and if the mark ' G ' on this pistol stands for Graves, 
 I should think so now. Otherwise the finding this other 
 pistol alters the matter, so far as Mr Graves is concerned. If 
 he did shoot the dog, 'twasn't with the pistols found in his 
 desk, you see. Still there's the torn trousers, and that looks 
 ugly. It seems a pretty equal suspicion now against the two 
 young gentlemen, as wouldn't say they hadn't been out last 
 night."
 
 The Pistol. 199 
 
 "For the matter of that," rejoined the usher, "I know 
 that one of them, Mr Temple, did go out last night, and was 
 very urgent to be allowed to go out again." 
 
 " Indeed, sir," said the constable. " That is important. 
 How do you know that, sir, may I ask?" 
 
 " I overheard him speaking to the school servant, Thomas 
 Cobbe," replied Mr Hepburn. " I was just returning from 
 the schoolroom to the headmaster's study, and Cobbe was on 
 the point of locking the door for the night. I heard him say, 
 ' I can't let you out again, Mr Temple. It's as much as my 
 place is worth,' or something of the kind." 
 
 "Let you out again are you sure he said that, sir?" 
 
 " Yes, I have questioned Cobbe about it this morning. He 
 never likes to say anything against the boys, if he can help it. 
 But he admitted that he had let Temple out, or rather let him 
 in, for he had gone out before the yard door was fastened, 
 and that he wanted to go out a second time, but Cobbe would 
 not allow it." 
 
 "What time was it when Cobbe let him in?" 
 
 "Just before prayers, I believe, somewhere about half-past 
 eight o'clock." 
 
 " That's no good, sir," said the constable. " This was done 
 after the rain began. The foot-marks shew that. The gravel 
 was too dry and hard to have left any mark at all, until the 
 rain came on. But you say he was very anxious to go out 
 again. What could he have wanted to go out for?" 
 
 " Well, I have my suspicions about that," replied the usher. 
 "Some time ago, a year or two I think there was a very 
 serious inquiry on which Colonel Wilder insisted. He found 
 that his son had been playing billiards for money, and it was
 
 200 Who did it ? 
 
 thought that all had not been quite fair. It transpired that 
 Temple had been one of the players. It was always a puzzle 
 how he had contrived to go to and from the billiard-room which 
 is in the heart of the town, without being seen by any one. 
 It was suggested that he might have got out at night, but it 
 could not be proved. This, however, looks like it." 
 
 " You think he might have wanted to go out to play 
 billiards with young Mr Wilder again," suggested the constable. 
 " But I think that can hardly have been so. I remember the 
 matter of which you speak, and the Colonel asked us to keep 
 an eye on a gentleman, who had been a friend of his son, and 
 had been in the habit of going to this table, and we always 
 have kept our eyes open, so far as that billiard-room is con- 
 cerned. I am pretty sure that neither young Mr Wilder nor 
 Mr Temple have ever been there since the Colonel spoke to 
 us. Besides, you must remember, sir, that the foot-marks 
 shew, that whoever went out, went to meet some person, and 
 that don't look as though any one was going out merely to play 
 billiards; still, however, the circumstance of Mr Temple's want- 
 ing to go out so late, and for no reason, so far as is known " 
 
 " No," said Mr Hepburn. " I overheard him refuse to give 
 Cobbe any reason for his wanting to go out, and Cobbc 
 stated as much to me this morning. But we can send for 
 him and question him if you like it." 
 
 " No, sir, best not do that. It would put him on his guard. 
 You see the first thing will be to find out to whom this pistol 
 belongs. We'll first try to make out whether it's an old pistol 
 of Mr Graves's it may be, you know. He has a lot of money 
 I'm told, and seems to be fond of guns and pistols. We'll 
 send it down to our mates who live near Wilworth that's
 
 Tlie Pistol. 201 
 
 Mr Graves's home. If it's his, some of his guardian's keepers 
 will be sure to know it. Then, if that don't do, I'll take it to 
 Dolman, the gunsmith. He has the handling, at one time or 
 another, of pretty nearly all the guns and pistols in this neigh- 
 bourhood. If it belongs to any one living near hereabouts, 
 I'll pound it he'll know who it is." 
 
 " But you'll not tell any one why you make the inquiry," 
 suggested Mr Hepburn. 
 
 " I, sir," said Baines, a little affronted. " I, sir. No. I 
 should think not that aint our way of going to work. No, 
 we'll be as mute as mice ; and if we can't find out anything 
 about it, we'll bring the pistol back to you. By-the-bye, Mr 
 Hepburn, that was a strange business about Mr Temple and 
 the gipsy's clothes, wasn't it ? It is no wonder that we couldn't 
 find out what had become of the gipsy ! He must be a clever 
 young gentleman that, and an amusing one, too ! How the 
 old Captain will laugh, to be sure, when he hears about it." 
 
 " Yes," assented Mr Hepburn, stiffly, " that is just one of 
 the things that I am most afraid of. Captain Gurdon has 
 always had a fancy for this boy, Temple ; who is clever 
 enough, no doubt, though his cleverness does not improve 
 him in my eyes. I fully expect that the Captain, as soon as 
 he hears of this, will take up the matter in his favour and 
 declare that he has had nothing to do with shooting the dog. 
 Anything he hears, he'll tell Temple, and so put him on his 
 guard." 
 
 " That won't do, sir," said Baines, " we had better for the 
 present keep this discovery of the pistol to our two selves. 
 Well, sir, I'm pretty confident we shall get to the bottom of 
 this matter, and that before very long. It will take two or
 
 202 Who did it ? 
 
 three days, maybe, to send the pistol over to Wilworth and 
 get an answer ; and then it will take some time to get an 
 answer out of Dolman. Some one must leave it there to 
 be cleaned, and see whether Dolman recognises it, or some- 
 thing of that sort. But you may depend upon it I'll bring it 
 back to you as soon as possible. And, meantime, I think we 
 had better stop all further inquiries, and let it seem as though 
 the thing had blown over. That will put the person who did 
 it off his guard. I shan't come up here again, sir, and if I 
 have anything to say to you, I'll send you a line through the 
 post to tell you where to meet me." 
 
 " Very good, Baines, if I have anything to tell you, I'll use 
 the same mode of communication. Now, good-bye." 
 
 They parted. The constable took the footpath which led 
 through the wood to Walescliff, while Mr Hepburn turned 
 towards the Priory gate. " This boy, Temple, did it, I am 
 convinced," he muttered to himself; " he did it himself, or he 
 was present when it was done. Anyhow, he knows all about 
 it. The only thing is how to prove it. He has contrived 
 to baffle inquiry so far, and the coincidences of Graves being 
 possessed of a brace of pistols, and the rent in his trousers, 
 have helped him to do so. Well, we must wait wait and 
 watch. Perhaps Baines may find out the owner of the pistol, 
 though I hardly expect it. If he does not, we must keep a 
 sharp eye on this boy, and not let him know we are watching 
 him. If we could only keep old Gurdon out of the way, 
 I believe we could manage that very well; but 1 am afraid 
 of his marring everything. And here he comes, I declare," 
 he added a few moments afterwards, as a gig became visible 
 at the further end of the lane, with the well-known figure
 
 The Pistol, 203 
 
 of Captain Gurdon seated by the driver. " He has heard of 
 this business, and has come back post haste to inquire about 
 it. Well, he shall not inquire of me, at all events ! " He 
 vanished through the gateway, just as the gig turned the 
 corner of the drive. 
 
 Meanwhile great excitement prevailed in the playground, 
 which seemed to increase, rather than diminish, the more the 
 question was discussed. Graves, preserving his customary 
 coolness, was the centre of one of the largest and noisiest 
 groups. He had given no explanation to his school-fellows 
 of his refusal to answer the Doctor, and no one had presumed 
 to question him. But this circumstance tended rather to 
 heighten the admiration with which he was regarded. In 
 their secret hearts, most of the boys believed that he was the 
 person who had shot Neptune. He had gone out so 
 they believed at an early hour to the coach office, to get his 
 pistols, and was returning with them when Neptune, who 
 notoriously disliked him, met him in the outer yard and 
 sprang upon him. Thereupon Graves, doing exactly what he 
 had said he would do under such circumstances, sent a bullet 
 through the bloodhound's chest, and then, exerting his great 
 strength, pitched the body over the wall. It was a daring 
 feat and just the thing to attract a boy's fancy. The feeling was 
 in no degree lessened by the conviction they entertained, that 
 he would say nothing on the subject to any one, and further, 
 that he would put any one down who tried to get at the truth. 
 
 " Never mind, Steve," said Taunton, skilfully avoiding the 
 forbidden question, " they can't take the pistols from you. 
 The Doctor can only send them to Wilworth, and you 
 will have them again at the beginning of the holidays."
 
 2O4 WJw did it ? 
 
 "No," said Graves; "and as I didn't want them here, 
 except for the purpose of shooting the match with Temple, 
 that doesn't much signify." 
 
 "And the black cross signifies rather less, if possible," 
 observed Rawes. " I don't suppose you care twopence about 
 losing this precious prize of theirs, Stephen, do you ? " 
 
 " I don't see why I should lose it," answered Graves quietly. 
 
 " Not lose it ! " exclaimed Rawes in surprise ; " why, they 
 will dock you a hundred marks, and you were already behind 
 Burton on the register were ten marks behind him, I 
 believe " 
 
 " Twelve, one of the juniors told me," interrupted Graves. 
 
 "Twelve. Then you are a hundred and twelve behind 
 him now. You don't expect to gain that upon him, do 
 you?" 
 
 " I mean to try, anyway," was the answer. 
 
 " Bravo ! Steve," cried Taunton, " that's your sort ! Never 
 say die. You don't choose to be beat. All right ! go in and 
 win, I say." 
 
 "No, I don't choose to be beat," said Graves. "What's 
 more, I don't choose to submit to injustice. Burton is 
 Hepburn's favourite. He wants him to win, and he knows 
 that for the last fortnight his pet has been losing marks. He 
 has taken advantage of this business to induce the Doctor to 
 strike a hundred marks off my score and Temple's, so as to 
 make Burton safe, as he thinks. I knew he was up to some- 
 thing of the kind, when he asked that question of the Doctor 
 yesterday. He meant to take advantage of the first oppor- 
 tunity of playing this trick, and the opportunity has come 
 sooner than he expected, that's all. But he may find himself
 
 The Pistol. 205 
 
 mistaken after all." He walked off, as he spoke, into the 
 schoolroom ; and, seating himself at his bureau, began studying 
 the Homer for the next day's lesson. 
 
 Meanwhile Temple was sitting alone in a retired corner of 
 the playground, looking very depressed and unhappy. It was 
 so very unusual with him to avoid the society of his school- 
 fellows, that his demeanour only excited surprise and sympathy. 
 
 " He looks terribly down in the mouth, George," said 
 Winburne. " Let us go and comfort him. Anything must be 
 better for him than to sit moping there." 
 
 The two boys joined their friend accordingly, who ac- 
 knowledged their presence by an attempt at a smile, though a 
 very lugubrious one. 
 
 " Come, Charlie, old boy, don't be downhearted," began 
 Winburne. " It's a bore certainly that those unlucky clothes 
 were not taken back to Mother Meggots before, or burned. 
 But no one could have foreseen what was going to happen. 
 And the row is over now, at all events." 
 
 " And your trousers are sure to be found," added Wright- 
 You didn't like to say where they were ; but Baines will soon 
 ferret them out; and then everybody will own even old 
 Hepburn will have to own that there is no ground whatever 
 for saying you had anything to do with this business " 
 
 Temple grew as red as fire, and looked so very uncomfort- 
 able, that Wright stopped short in the middle of his sentence. 
 "I suppose you had nothing to do with it, Charlie?" he 
 resumed almost involuntarily. " You didn't go out last night 
 I suppose ' 
 
 " I am not going to be questioned by you," broke in Temple, 
 angrily. ." It is no business of yours at any rate,"
 
 206 Wlio did it ? 
 
 " Of course, it is not, Charlie," rejoined Wright. " I am 
 sure I had no intention of saying anything that could offend 
 you. We'll drop the matter altogether, if you wish it." 
 
 " Well, it will be better, George," said Temple, recovering 
 himself. " This is a most unpleasant business, and the less 
 said about it the better. But you mustn't think I care a bit 
 for what Hepburn may choose to say, or think either. I know 
 he dislikes me. He has shown that plain enough, and he is 
 glad of the opportunity of spiting me by depriving me of this 
 prize." 
 
 " He hasn't deprived you of it yet," remarked Winburne, 
 "and if I were you, I wouldn't let him deprive me of it at all." 
 
 " I wouldn't, I am sure, if I could help it," said Temple, 
 with a faint attempt at a smile ; " but what chance is there of 
 my getting it now ? " 
 
 " A very good one," returned Winburne, " if you will pluck 
 up and work. You know how many marks you got in one 
 week, Charlie about the middle of last half it was, I re- 
 member ? " 
 
 " What, when there was that copy of Latin verses about the 
 mermaids and the Greek Iambics from Romeo and Juliet ? " 
 returned Temple. " Ah ! I remember those two subjects 
 happened to suit me exactly. I daresay I got a pot of marks 
 for them, though I don't remember how many." 
 
 " Well, I do then, Charlie, anyhow," said Winburne ; " you 
 got twenty-five marks twelve for the Greek Iambics, ten for 
 the Latin poem, and only three for all the rest of your week's 
 work. If you had done all your week's lessons anything like 
 as well as you did the compos, you would have scored six-and- 
 thirty at least. Suppose you scored six-and-thirty a week to
 
 TJtc Pistol. 207 
 
 the end of this half why that would be something like six 
 hundred marks ! Burton never gets more than a dozen, or at 
 the most fifteen marks a week eight or nine for the lessons 
 and four or five for the compos. Why, Charlie, you'd beat 
 his head off beat him if he had had two hundred added to 
 his score instead of one." 
 
 Temple could not forbear a smile. " I must say you are a 
 good fellow to back one up, Jack," he said. " But it is one 
 thing to get twenty-two marks for compos, when the subjects 
 happen to suit one, and another thing to get them every week 
 whether they happen to suit one or not, and then there are 
 those lessons I certainly might do better with them if I chose 
 it. There is that Livy in particular, and the Memorabilia if 
 there's one thing I hate more than another it's that book. I 
 am always getting into a row with the Doctor about it. But I 
 suppose I could do that better, and the Livy too, if I were to 
 try." 
 
 " You could do it first-chop, Charlie," said Wright, " if you'd 
 only turn to with a will. I must say I should like uncommonly 
 to see you get this prize after all how it would sell Hepburn 
 to be sure. I'd give five pound if I had it to see his face ! " 
 
 " Yes, and I shouldn't be sorry for that," said Temple. 
 " But you must remember that even if I were to do all you 
 say, you must not reckon upon others not working double tides 
 too. Burton and Graves might ' turn to with a will ' as well 
 as myself." 
 
 " I don't believe Burton has got the go in him," said Win- 
 burne. " He puts on his best pace as it is, and couldn't go a 
 mile an hour faster if it were ever so. And as for Graves, 
 catch him troubling himself about this prize. Why, he has
 
 208 Who did it? 
 
 more money than he knows what to do with already. What 
 is fifty pound to him, that he is to grind all day for three 
 months and more to get it ? " 
 
 " Ah ! you mustn't reckon upon that, Jack," said Wright. 
 " I heard Dilke and Rawes talking about it a few minutes ago 
 in the playground. They said that Graves thought he hadn't 
 been fairly treated that they wanted to jockey him out of this 
 prize, and he wasn't going to allow it. He has gone into the 
 school-room to begin work already. But never mind, Charlie, 
 you are not obliged to gain a hundred marks upon him. You 
 are two or three ahead of him already. And you know well 
 enough, though Graves is a very different sort of fellow from 
 Burton, he'll never pass you, if you are resolved he shan't." 
 
 "And he shan't," exclaimed Temple, clenching his fist. 
 " I thank you two fellows with all my heart. If I don't get 
 this prize after all, any way it shan't be my fault."
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 A BATHING LESSON. 
 
 ABOUT a month had passed since the occurrence related in the 
 last chapter. The interest felt by the boys in the detection of 
 the offender, which for a long time had engrossed their atten- 
 tion, had begun to give way to another subject, which at this 
 time of the year generally absorbed their thoughts. This was 
 the Walescliff regatta, which always took place in the month 
 of September, and was usually a most attractive affair. Its 
 popularity was owing in the first place to the local celebrity of 
 Walescliff, which in remote times had been a place of con- 
 siderable importance, and although it had been far outstripped 
 both in respect of wealth and population by Haverport, Wick- 
 field, and other contiguous towns, it still retained the prestige 
 of antiquity. Besides this, the harbour was a place especially 
 suitable for a regatta. It has been already cursorily described 
 in a previous chapter, but the reader may wish to have a more 
 minute account of it. It was formed by an estuary of the 
 river Wale, but it differed from most estuaries, in that it was 
 not choked by the sand and mud brought down by the river. 
 It consisted of a very deep chasm in the rocky strata, and all 
 the deposit of the Wale since the days of the Flood had not 
 
 o
 
 210 Who did it? 
 
 been sufficient to fill this up. There was in consequence 
 always deep water, whatever the state of the tide might be, 
 and tolerably large vessels could come up to the landing places 
 at any hour of the day. This rendered the little harbour not 
 only more picturesque, but better suited for rowing and sailing. 
 
 It had been the custom for many generations past for the 
 magnates of the county to give prizes to be contended for on 
 the occasion. The Lord Lieutenant presented a silver cup lo 
 the winner of the yacht race, which was open to all the county ; 
 Sir J. Taunton and Mr Lumley, the Members, a purse of 
 sovereigns to the successful competitors in the six- and four- 
 oared matches ; subscriptions were raised to bestow other less 
 costly rewards to the best oarsmen in the double and single 
 sculling contests, the duck hunt, the punting match, and the 
 like. The prize given by the owner of Hawley Manor for 
 many years past had been the same a douceur of two guineas 
 to the best swimmer, and of one guinea to the best diver. 
 
 The Holmwood boys, though always interested spectators 
 of the regatta, and warm partisans of the Walescliff crews, 
 could, of course, take no part in the sailing matches, not being 
 possessed of yachts of their own. They had occasionally, 
 though rarely, competed in the four-oar contest, and a very 
 dim and uncertain tradition affirmed that they had been once 
 victorious in it. But the difficulty of finding among the boys 
 four rowers of sufficiently stalwart proportions to contend 
 successfully with picked men from the large fishing towns of 
 Haverport and Wickfield was so great, that the tradition in 
 question was generally regarded as mythical. But it was a 
 different matter with the swimming and diving prizes. For the 
 first of these they had frequently been successful, and for the
 
 A Bathing Lesson. 2 1 1 
 
 second they had generally proved the victors. Old Gunn 
 regularly every year undertook the training of one or two of 
 the most promising candidates, and was very proud of the 
 number of his pupils who had carried off the palm. 
 
 In the present year there was an unusually large number of 
 competitors from the Priory. Temple was generally reputed 
 to be the best swimmer in the school. He had indeed carried 
 off the second prize in the regatta of the previous year, but 
 this time it \va generally believed he did not mean to enter 
 for it. Cressingham, Taunton, Wright, Hibbert, O'Toole, and 
 Rawes were to be the school champions in the swimming race, 
 Taunton, O'Toole, and Hibbert being the three essaying for the 
 diving contest also. Of these Cressingham and O'Toole had 
 early secured the services of Old Gunn, and Taunton and 
 Rawes those of his son James. Wright and Hibbert by this 
 arrangement would have been left without an instructor, it 
 being an invariable rule that the Gunns undertook the training 
 of two aspirants only. They would probably have retired from 
 the contest if the circumstance had not reached the ears of old 
 Captain Gurdon, who had a personal liking for Wright, Charlie 
 Temple's intimate friend. He straightway declared his readi- 
 ness to undertake the training of the two lads, if they were 
 willing to trust themselves to him. As he was at least the 
 equal of either of the boatmen as a swimmer, and as a diver 
 much their superior, it needs not to say that this offer was 
 thankfully accepted, and for the last three weeks Wright and 
 Hibbert had been receiving almost daily lessons to their own 
 great satisfaction, no less than that of their instructor. 
 
 The old Captain, indeed, was glad of some occupation to 
 divert his thoughts. He had returned, as the reader has heard,
 
 2 1 2 Who did it ? 
 
 on the morning of the igth of August, on receiving Dr Thorn- 
 ton's note informing him of the slaughter of his favourite dog. 
 He had driven up to the house in a state of considerable 
 excitement, and bursting into the room where the Doctor was 
 seated, required in the first place a complete statement of all 
 that was known respecting the affair, and in the second strict 
 justice to be executed on the offenders. 
 
 The Headmaster had been prepared for the demand, and 
 proceeded to give his brother-in-law the information he desired. 
 He told him in the first place how and by whom the body of 
 poor Neptune had been found ; then of the discovery of the 
 piece of stuff between his teeth; of the rent in Graves's 
 trousers, and the pistols found in his possession ; of the refusal 
 of Graves and Temple to say that they had not left the house 
 on the previous evening; and, finally, of the gipsy's clothes 
 found in Temple's possession, and the disappearance of his 
 trousers, adding that no one could doubt that the perpetrator 
 of the act was one of the two boys named the difficulty was 
 to say which. 
 
 The old officer listened to the Doctor's narrative with 
 tolerable patience, only interrupting him every now and then 
 with some exclamation of anger or disgust. But when he 
 heard the last sentence of his remarks he burst out impetuously. 
 
 " Temple, Charlie Temple do this ! " he exclaimed. " You 
 can't think that, to be sure, Thornton ! Why, Charlie was as 
 fond of the dog as I was, and the dog was as fond of him as 
 of me ! I wonder you don't see as clear as the day who it was 
 that did this ! " 
 
 " You mean Graves, I suppose ? " returned the headmaster. 
 
 " To be sure I do ! Why, what doubt can there be ? Nep,
 
 A Bathing Lesson. 213 
 
 poor fellow, seized some one, of course, whom he disliked. 
 There was only one of the boys whom he notoriously disliked, 
 and that was Graves. He was shot with a pistol, and a pistol 
 is found in the possession of one boy only, and that is Graves. 
 He tears some one's trousers, and only one boy's trousers are 
 found to be torn, and that is Graves." 
 
 " Those are suspicious circumstances, no doubt, Gurdon. 
 But then Temple, equally with Graves, refuses to say he did 
 not go out last night. Indeed, Mr Hepburn tells me that he 
 knows he did go out " 
 
 " Hepburn ! Hepburn has a prejudice against Temple, and 
 is always making charges against the poor lad ! " 
 
 "Never mind that, Gurdon. He is here only alleging a 
 fact, which he says he can positively prove. Then again, the 
 circumstance, which he himself admits, of having dressed him- 
 self up in the gipsy's clothes and begged that money of you in 
 Hawley Wood" 
 
 " What, Charlie Temple was the gipsy girl, was he ? " broke 
 in the Captain. " The clever young rascal ho, ho, ho ! What 
 a joke against Hepburn. He shall hear of that ! But, how- 
 ever, Doctor, supposing Temple did do what you say, what has 
 that to do with killing poor old Nep ? " 
 
 " I didn't imply that it had. But it shows how lawless and 
 daring the boy is. Still there is the disappearance of his 
 trousers, of which he gives no explanation " 
 
 " He may really have lost them and not known when or how. 
 I've done the same more than once in my life. You must 
 excuse me, Thornton, but really no unprejudiced person can 
 have any doubt here. I hope you will without more ado take 
 up the matter against Graves."
 
 214 Wtwdidit? 
 
 " Take it up ? Have him charged with the offence before 
 the magistrates, do you mean?" 
 
 " To be sure. I am sorry for the injury it may do your 
 school " 
 
 " That is not to be thought of for a minute. But we 
 Baines and all are agreed that there is not sufficient evidence 
 at present on which to commit any one for trial. It is not 
 known that Graves left the house last night, or this morning. 
 He will not say he did not, but that could not be brought 
 forward. He has pistols, but it is not proved that the bullet 
 with which the dog was shot fits them. The bullet has not 
 been found. His trousers are torn, but the scrap in the dog's 
 mouth has been so mutilated and dragged out of shape that it 
 cannot be fitted to the rent in Graves's trousers. If you could 
 prove that Graves was out with one of his pistols that morning, 
 or find the bullet " 
 
 " I'll do one or the other, if not both, Thornton. My poor 
 old favourite shan't be murdered in this manner, and the brute 
 that did it escape scot-free. I shall say no more about this, 
 Doctor, till I can produce the evidence you require. Then 
 you'll hear again. Good morning ! " 
 
 He started up, and leaving the house, began straightway to 
 prosecute his inquiries with a vigour which ought speedily to 
 have brought everything to light. For a day or two he flattered 
 himself he was making some progress, but as the time went 
 on, and nothing material was discovered, he began to lose 
 heart, and before the end of the week was glad to divert his 
 thoughts by undertaking, as the reader has heard, the training 
 of the boys for the swimming and diving matches. 
 
 One day about the middle of September the conversation
 
 A Bathing Lesson. 215 
 
 happened to turn on the diving match which had taken place 
 early in the half-year between Taunton and O'Toole, at which 
 the Captain had been present. 
 
 " Young Taunton doesn't dive badly," he said. " He has 
 been as well taught, I daresay, as any man who hadn't been 
 in the South Seas could teach him. But if you'll mind what 
 I tell you, Hibbert, he'll have no more chance with you than 
 than I should have with an alligator ! " 
 
 " They're first-rate divers, I suppose, sir ? " said Hibbert. 
 
 "I should think they were. If you had had such an 
 encounter with one as I once had, you would have reason to 
 know the fact." 
 
 "When was that, sir?" asked Wright. "Hibbert and I 
 would very much like to hear, if you have no objection to 
 tell us." 
 
 " I have no objection," said the Captain, who was fond of 
 telling one of his yarns, when he could get a good listener. 
 " It was in the State of Mississippi, in North America. The 
 alligators grow to a very large size about there fifteen and 
 sixteen long some of them with enormous heads. I have 
 measured one that was more than two feet in length, with rows 
 of teeth like large nails. They are about as frightful creatures to 
 look at as can be imagined. They'll get together sometimes in 
 some spot they fancy the mouth of a river generally, and 
 bellow so loud that you could hear them a mile off and more. 
 But sometimes they'll lie at the bottom of a pond they like 
 ponds, when they can find them, better than rivers they'll lie 
 at the bottom as quiet as if they were so many large blocks of 
 stone, for hours together, and all of a moment come up to the 
 surface, shewing their ugly heads and long jaws that would cut
 
 216 Who did it? 
 
 a man in half as easy as a gardener snips off a twig with his 
 shears." 
 
 " They don't venture to attack men, do they, sir ? " asked 
 Hibbert. 
 
 "Don't they, my lad? A good many niggers on the 
 Carolina plantations, and not a few whites too, could tell a 
 different tale. It is said that they always prefer black men's 
 flesh to white, when they have the choice. I don't know how 
 that may be. But they've no objection to breakfast or dine 
 off a white man, that's certain. 
 
 " Well, as I said, I had gone over to Mississippi State for a 
 fortnight's run, and my messmate, Murtough M'Grath, had gone 
 over with me. M'Grath was a very good fellow, and though an 
 Irishman, a deal more cautious and thoughtful than I was. 
 That, however, might well be. When I was twenty-two I was 
 as harum-scarum a young blockhead as any one of your 
 schoolfellows, or yourself either, George." 
 
 " Thank you for that, sir," said Wright, laughing. " I am 
 glad one of the alligators didn't eat you up, however." 
 
 " No, but one nearly did. It was a hot afternoon, you see. 
 Jn this country we don't in general know what heat means, but 
 out there, one soon learns. We had been tramping all the 
 morning through the woods, and had each of us got a pretty 
 heavy bag, when all of a moment we carne upon a small lake, 
 shut in by the trees on every side except one, where there was 
 a border of delicious green turf. We lay down to rest, and eat 
 our tiffin, and then I proposed that we should have a bathe. 
 Murtough warned me that it wasn't safe to venture one's self 
 naked in the water unless one knew the place thoroughly. 
 There were often poisonous snakes hidden in the herbage ;
 
 A Bathing Lesson. 217 
 
 and even in the water itself there were sometimes dangerous 
 vermin. But I wouldn't heed him. I undressed on the top of 
 a flat piece of rock overhanging the pool, and plunged into deep 
 water. It was delicious, and I swam about chaffing Murtough, 
 who was sitting, rifle in hand, on the bank. I had been in 
 about five minutes when I heard a splash behind me, and at 
 the same moment M'Grath called out to me to make for the 
 bank as hard as I could. ' Don't look round,' he shouted, 
 ' but swim for it.' I was too much alarmed to take his advice ; 
 indeed I looked round the moment I heard the splash." 
 
 " And you saw an alligator's head, I suppose, sir," suggested 
 Hibbert. 
 
 " I did, my lad. My blood runs cold at the recollection 
 even now. It was an enormous brute, and his jaws were wide 
 open, shewing his ranges of teeth, which he designed to 
 employ in my service. I caught sight at the same moment of 
 M'Grath, who, like a prudent man, always fired off his rifle 
 before laying it down. The sight suddenly restored my nerve. 
 I saw it was impossible for me now to reach the bank before the 
 brute could catch me. He had fortunately risen up at the 
 very end of the pond, or he would have had me in a jifiey. 
 It was equally plain that Murtough couldn't be in time to stop 
 him with a bullet. There was only one hope for me. I must 
 dive under him. These creatures can turn more quickly in the 
 water than on land, but their great length impede their move- 
 ments at all times. I turned round and faced him. He was 
 only four or five feet from me, making straight at me. I 
 plunged straight down for two or three feet and then struck 
 out, emerging beyond him about half-way down the pond. He 
 swung himself round more rapidly than I had expected, and
 
 218 Who did it? 
 
 again made at me. M'Grath now gave him a shot ; but he 
 had moved his head just at the moment when Murtough 
 fired, and the ball struck his upper jaw, wounding him 
 severely but not mortally. He made a savage plunge 
 forward, and I had to dive again, but I was a good deal 
 exhausted with my exertions, and could hardly force my way 
 through the water. If my friend's second bullet had had no 
 better luck than his first, it would have been all up with me. 
 But his second ball went true enough into the monster's eye, 
 and he was soon struggling in his death agony. I just 
 managed, with Murtough's help, to crawl up the bank." 
 
 " That was a near go, sir, indeed," said Hibbert. " What 
 became of your friend, Mr M'Grath ? " 
 
 " He is in India, but his time is nearly up, and I hear he is 
 coming home immediately. He is a friend of Colonel Wilder's 
 as well as mine, and was staying with him two years ago. He 
 had been invalided and came home for a year. I should think 
 you must remember him." 
 
 " I remember seeing a gentleman who was often about with 
 Harry Wilder, sir, tall, with a grey moustache and a slight 
 limp." 
 
 " Ay, that was M'Grath. He had a wound five years ago, 
 which makes him limp, and there has been plenty to turn his 
 moustache grey since the days when he shot the alligator. 
 Well, our lesson is over for to-day. We may sit here and rest 
 ourselves awhile. How are things going on up at the Priory ? 
 How is the gipsy ? " 
 
 " Meaning Temple, I suppose," answered Wright, laughing. 
 "I am sure you are very kind, sir, to take that so good- 
 naturedly."
 
 A Bathing Lesson. 219 
 
 " Well, it would be a very ill-conditioned fellow who would 
 be made angry by a joke like that ! " rejoined the old man. 
 " Charlie Temple is a monstrous clever fellow, and a good 
 one, I believe, into the bargain. And he is a famous swimmer 
 too. It is a pity that he has given up practising for this swim- 
 ming race." 
 
 " He is working so hard for this Hawley prize, sir, that he 
 will hardly allow himself time to go out for an hour's walk in 
 the afternoon," said Hibbert. "Indeed, I don't believe he 
 would go out if the Doctor didn't positively insist upon it. 
 The practice for the swimming race would take up at least 
 two hours on an average every day. He told me when I asked 
 him about it that it was quite out of the question his thinking 
 about it." 
 
 " Well, the lad is right to work. His family are not well 
 off, are they?" 
 
 " No, sir. I believe Mrs Temple is very poor, and it is chiefly 
 on her account that he wants to get this prize. He told me 
 that she didn't know anything about it, and he didn't mean 
 to tell her until it was over. It would make her so very 
 anxious." 
 
 " Good lad, good lad," said Gurdon, " that's why he doesn't 
 ever come to see me I suppose, though as he does sometimes 
 take an hour's walk, he might sometimes come my way. 
 Well, I hope he may win the day, I'm sure. How is he get- 
 ting on ? " 
 
 " He's getting on capitally," said Wright " He gets very 
 high marks for his verses and themes every week sometimes 
 ten for each, and now and then even more, and he hardly ever 
 fails to get two marks for every lesson. That is very good you
 
 220 Who did it ? 
 
 know, sir. The Doctor never gives more than three, and very 
 seldom, indeed, more than two. He is going up the register 
 like a sky rocket." 
 
 " I am glad to hear it, but how are the others doing ? I 
 saw your head usher yesterday, and he told me he didn't think 
 Temple had much chance of winning." 
 
 " Ah, he doesn't want him to win, sir," observed Wright. 
 " He dislikes Temple, always has disliked him. Burton is his 
 great favourite, and he still believes that he will come out first 
 at the end of the half-year, instead of third, as everybody else 
 thinks ! " 
 
 " Third ! who is to be second then ? I know Mr Hepburn 
 expects Burton to be first, but anyway I suppose Charlie would 
 be second." 
 
 " We all expect Graves to be second, sir. He is Temple's 
 most dangerous rival. He is working double tides too, and 
 gets such a quantity of marks that it is all Temple can do to 
 keep ahead of him. No one except Mr Hepburn knows 
 exactly how the register stands, but the general notion is that 
 there has hardly been a mark to choose between Graves and 
 Temple since they both began to work so hard about a month 
 ago. But Temple had the lead then, and it is tolerably sure 
 that he has never lost it." 
 
 "No," assented Hibbert, "even Graves's party Dilke 
 and Payne and the others don't pretend he has gained 
 much as yet on Charlie, if he has gained anything. But 
 they say Graves is safe to keep on with his grind, and Temple 
 will most likely get tired and stop work. But I think they 
 are mistaken." 
 
 " I hope they are," observed the Captain gravely ; " it would
 
 A Bathing Lesson. 221 
 
 be a great disgrace to the school if the author of that shame- 
 ful and brutal outrage were to obtain this prize ! " 
 
 The two boys looked a little embarrassed. The Captain 
 noticed it, and went on. 
 
 " Do not the boys themselves believe Graves to be the 
 person who shot poor old Neptune ? I thought that was the 
 general opinion." 
 
 "A great many think so, sir. George and I and all 
 Temple's friends have always thought so. We know what 
 Graves threatened to do, only a few days before if Neptune 
 ever sprang on him again " 
 
 " Yes, I know that too," said Captain Gurdon. " Cobbe 
 told me that. He says he heard Graves say it." 
 
 " Yes, sir. All the school, pretty nearly, heard him, as 
 well as Cobbe." 
 
 " And Cobbe further says he is pretty sure he saw Graves 
 outside the house with his pistols in his hand, early on the 
 morning when the dog was killed," continued the Captain 
 vehemently. 
 
 " Indeed, sir," rejoined Wright, looking surprised. " None 
 of the fellows know that, I think. If it could be shown that 
 Graves was out in the yard with a pistol early that morning, 
 I should imagine that would settle the matter." 
 
 " So it would, I daresay," rejoined the Captain, " if Cobbe 
 could swear to having seen Graves out that morning. But he 
 only says he thinks so. Look here, my lads. I don't know 
 that I am very wise in talking to you about this. But I get 
 so excited when I think about poor old Neptune, that I 
 can't keep things to myself. And as I have said so much, I 
 had better tell you all. Cobbe told me that Mr Graves sent
 
 222 Who did it ? 
 
 him up to the coach office to get these pistols of his on the 
 afternoon before poor Nep's murder, and they weren't come 
 then. Well, somehow or other, Graves had got them by eight 
 or so the next morning. He fancied, he said, Mr Graves 
 had gone down to the coach office himself quite early to fetch 
 them, and that he saw him coming back. His story is, that he 
 was woke by a noise like a scuffle or a fall outside the house. 
 It was very early, hardly daybreak, and Cobbe thought it was 
 a lot of tramps squabbling out in the road. But a minute 
 or two afterwards there came the sound of a pistol shot, and 
 that quite roused him. He got up, and was hurrying on his 
 clothes, when he saw a tall figure carrying a mahogany case, 
 or what looked like one, hurry past his window. He only saw 
 it for a moment, but he fancied it was Mr Graves." 
 
 " By Jove," exclaimed Wright, " that does look like it ! 
 But, Captain Gurdon, don't they know at the coach office 
 whether Graves went down there that morning to get the 
 pistols ? " 
 
 " No, he didn't go up there," returned the Captain, " that is 
 one of the strangest features in the business. I asked at the 
 coach office, as soon as I had heard Cobbe's story. Mr Graves 
 didn't fetch the pistols ; a boy whom they had never seen 
 before, or since, came for them, and took them away, a few 
 minutes after the coach came in. I got the boy's description 
 and have inquired everywhere, but can learn nothing about 
 him. If ever I do light on the boy, and he can prove that 
 Graves was out that morning, I shall insist on the matter 
 being taken up again. Till then, the closer things are kept 
 the better. I meant not to have said a word about it to any 
 one. But, as I told you just now, when the subject turns
 
 A Bathing Lesson. 223 
 
 up, I can hardly, I can't hold my tongue. But I hope you 
 boys will be wiser than me, and say nothing." 
 
 " We'll say nothing, you may be sure, sir," said Hibbert. 
 " We wont tell even Charlie. Good afternoon, sir." 
 
 " Good afternoon, lads." They parted, and the boys strolled 
 leisurely home. 
 
 " He's an old brick, the Captain," observed Wright. "Even 
 if I hadn't liked old Nep so much myself, I should have been 
 tremendously sorry for his being killed, because the old fellow 
 feels it so." 
 
 " Yes. Nep once saved his life, I've heard," said Hibbert. 
 " He was attacked by robbers, wasn't he ? " 
 
 " By brigands, I believe, in Sicily," replied Wright. " He 
 had his pistols with him, and he finished one fellow, and 
 wounded another. But there were three left, and they 
 would have been too much for the Captain, when all of a 
 moment, Neptune came bounding up and tore down one 
 fellow, who had just clutched old Gurdon by the throat. 
 The other two cut for it. He told Charlie that it would have 
 been all up with him in two minutes more ! " 
 
 At this moment the figure of one of the boys was seen 
 issuing from the gate of the Priory, and turning into the path 
 which led to the shrubbery. The next -moment it was lost to 
 sight among the trees. 
 
 "Wasn't that Charlie?" asked Hibbert. "I only caught 
 a glimpse for a moment, but I thought it was he." 
 
 " So it was," answered Wright. " He is just going out for 
 a quarter of an hour before gate-locking to get a mouthful of 
 fresh air, after grinding all the afternoon over Xenophon and 
 Latin verses. He is a most curious fellow is Charlie. It's
 
 224 WJw did it ? 
 
 not only that he never allows himself more than a quarter of an 
 hour's run at a time, but he never goes anywhere except into 
 the shrubbery, where we saw him going just now. There'd be 
 time to get down to the beach and back, if he took two of 
 his quarters of an hour together, or to the cricket-ground 
 anyway, if he persisted in only taking one. But what he can 
 find in that shrubbery that hits his fancy, I can't imagine." 
 
 "Nor I," said Hibbert. "It's the last place I should 
 fancy, especially now when some of the trees are beginning 
 to shed their leaves." 
 
 " Well, I hope he'll win," rejoined Wright, " and I fancy 
 he is in a fair way to do so. But I should like to get a sight 
 of the register, I must say that." 
 
 " There isn't much chance of your getting your wish," ob- 
 served Hibbert. " Old Hepburn always keeps the register 
 pretty close, but since this battle between the three seniors 
 has begun, he has kept it closer than ever. But I am of your 
 mind. I'd give something handsome to know how much 
 Charlie has gained on Burton." 
 
 " We'll bide our time, and keep a sharp look out," said 
 Wright. " Let Hepburn be ever so careful, he may be caught 
 tripping some day. Two minutes' sight of the register would 
 be quite enough. It will be hard if we cannot manage that."
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 A SIGHT OF THE REGISTER. 
 
 WHILE his school-fellows were speculating as to the meaning 
 of his movements, Temple himself was hurrying through the 
 shrubbery in a very uncomfortable frame of mind. "What 
 can Harry mean by appointing such a time as this for our 
 meeting?" he muttered. "Even if he's punctual, which is 
 more than I expect, we shan't have much more than a quarter 
 of an hour, and I wanted to have a long talk with him." 
 
 He proceeded on his way, till he had reached a glade 
 sheltered by the trees on every side, which generally went by 
 the name of the " Gipsy's Hollow." As he entered it young 
 Wilder appeared coming up from the opposite direction. 
 
 " Punctual to a moment, Charlie," he said. " You must 
 not be vexed with me for not naming an earlier hour. You 
 will hear my reason presently. I have only just been able to 
 get away as it is." 
 
 " Well, never mind that now, Harry," responded Temple, 
 " we had better make the most of the time we have. You 
 said in your note there were several things you wanted to ask 
 me. Let us hear what they are." 
 
 "Well, of course, you must know what the first thing 
 
 p
 
 226 Who did to? 
 
 that I have to ask is," said Wilder, " Have you found the 
 pistol?" 
 
 "I am sorry to say I have not," returned Temple. "I 
 don't know what to make of it, Harry. I told you, you will 
 remember, that I was obliged to leave it outside the walls. 
 I hid it away where I thought no one could find it. You see 
 I durstn't take it into the house ; and, as it proved, it would 
 have been much worse if I had. Thornton had my bureau 
 and Graves's searched ; and then it would of course have 
 been discovered, and everything would have come out." 
 
 " And you are quite sure, are you, that you looked for it in 
 the place where you had left it?" 
 
 " Not only that, but I have searched the whole place for 
 twenty yards round," answered Temple. " I have searched it 
 so often that I wonder I haven't excited suspicion. I don't 
 believe there is a single blade of grass that I haven't turned 
 over ! Somebody, of course, must have picked it up ; but 
 who that person can be, I can't think. It can't be that Baines 
 or the other constable found it, or they would have brought it 
 out, and tried to discover to whom it belonged. They suspect 
 me as it is, 1 know, of shooting the dog, and if they could 
 make out " 
 
 '* Don't say anything to me about shooting the dog, Charlie," 
 said Harry, hastily, and almost roughly, " I don't want to hear 
 anything of that." 
 
 Temple looked annoyed. " I think you are very unkind, 
 Harry," he said. " You see what a difficulty, or rather what 
 danger I am in of detection, and what utter ruin it would be 
 to me, and yet you wont " 
 
 " No, I wont," said the other, sharply. " I want to know
 
 A Sight of the Register. 22/ 
 
 about the pistol, but not about the dog. The less I hear 
 about the dog the better for me, and I should think for you 
 too." 
 
 " Very well," returned Temple, angrily. " I wont say any 
 more. And now go on with what you have to say to me." 
 
 " What I have to say to you is, in the first place, that I 
 think you must be mistaken in supposing that the constables 
 know nothing about this pistol. You have said so two or 
 three times, but I don't know what makes you say so. They 
 have been making enquiries at all events about some pistol 
 they have found. I don't know that it's the same, of course, 
 as I have not seen it ; but they've asked my father, whether 
 he has lost one of his pistols lately, and they have put the 
 same question, I know, to Mr Walton, Mr Carington, and to 
 old Grimes. They've only just left my father. That is what 
 made me so late. 1 stayed all through their visit, in the hope 
 of seeing the pistol, but they didn't bring it with them." 
 
 " Did they describe it?" asked Temple. 
 
 " No, they didn't," said Harry. " You see my father denied 
 having lost any pistol at all, so they didn't go into the matter." 
 
 "Well, then, it may be only a ruse of theirs pretending 
 that they had found a pistol, in order to frighten a fellow, you 
 see." 
 
 " It is possible, no doubt," said Wilder, rather coldly. " I 
 can't say how that may be. I only tell you what I know. 
 You must do what you yourself think best." 
 
 " Very well," said Temple, in an offended tone ; " that, I 
 suppose, is all you have to say to me, and it's quite as well, 
 since it must now be getting near the time for locking up." 
 
 " I am sorry to say it is not all I have to say to you," said
 
 228 Who did it? 
 
 Harry Wilder. " There's something a good deal worse. My 
 father has had a letter from Colonel M'Grath this morning, 
 telling him he is on the point of setting out for England. He 
 may be expected in England in the course of a few weeks 
 certainly before Christmas, and probably a month before it." 
 
 "Oh, Harry, you don't mean that, to be sure !" exclaimed 
 Temple, in a tone of the greatest alarm. " If he should arrive 
 before this pistol is found, whatever will become of me." 
 
 " It would be very awkward no doubt," said his companion 
 in a kinder tone. "Look here, Charlie, if there's nothing 
 more in this matter, than that you asked me to lend you a 
 pistol, merely for your amusement, and I lent you one, which 
 Colonel M'Grath left in my charge -why there wouldn't be 
 any great harm in that, even if the pistol was lost. I'd take 
 the blame upon myself, if that were all. But then you see, 
 there is this matter of the dog " 
 
 " You, yourself, requested just now that nothing might be 
 said about that," interrupted Temple. 
 
 " I don't want to say anything about it I only want you 
 to consider, Temple, whether it wouldn't be better for you to 
 go to Thornton, or my father, if you like, and tell him every- 
 thing. You may feel sure that I shall say nothing, but if I 
 were in your place " 
 
 " No, no, Harry. I can't do it ! Perhaps I ought, but I 
 can't ! I shall never forgive myself for my haste and folly. I 
 can't bear to look old Gurdon in the face ! No. I can't do 
 what you propose not yet, at all events. Please don't ask 
 me to do it." He paused a moment, and then added. 
 
 "You told me just now that Colonel M'Grath intended to 
 return to England shortly did he say by what ship he meant
 
 A Sight of tlie Register. 229 
 
 to come, or name the day on which he was to leave 
 India?" 
 
 " He did not, he only said he was coming soon." 
 
 " Soon well it's now September. Perhaps he mayn't after 
 all be here before Christmas." 
 
 " Perhaps not," said Wilder. " I should think it was quite 
 a chance. But I don't see that that makes much difference." 
 
 " Yes, but it would ; it would make the greatest difference. 
 You see before then the pistol may be found. Some one must 
 have got it, and they might be induced to give it up, if a 
 reward was offered them a large reward you know." 
 
 " Perhaps," said the other, " but are you prepared to offer a 
 large reward?" 
 
 "I couldn't now of course," answered Temple, "but I 
 might be able to do so before before very long. But just 
 tell me one thing, Harry. What sort of fellow is this Colonel 
 M'Grath?" 
 
 " Well, he's a very good sort of fellow, Temple. My father 
 thinks very highly of him. He'd have no patience with any 
 thing underhand. He was a great friend of Captain Gurdon's 
 too." 
 
 Temples cheek flushed angrily. 
 
 " You have no right to speak to me in that way," he cried. 
 " I shall wish you good evening, I suppose I may assume 
 that you are not going to say anything about this matter with- 
 out first giving me notice of it." 
 
 " I gave you my promise that I would not," answered Wilder, 
 coldly, " and when I give a promise I keep it. But I warned 
 you at the same time if I should be questioned about it, I 
 should say nothing but what was true."
 
 230 Who did iff 
 
 "Nobody ever asked you to do anything else," retorted 
 Temple, with equal coldness. He turned away, and walked 
 off towards the house. 
 
 Harry Wilder looked after him with a wistful expression on 
 his face. " It is a pity he does not speak out," he said, half 
 aloud. " If he shot the dog in self-defence, or by accident, 
 and would only say so, I think every one would forgive him. 
 But he has no business to allow suspicion to rest upon any 
 one else; and there is one fellow, at all events, I am told, who 
 is suspected of having done the act, even more than Charlie 
 himself is. Well, I shall keep to my promise ; say nothing 
 unless asked ; say the truth, if I am." 
 
 Meanwhile Charlie Temple hurried as fast as he could to 
 the gate, and was fortunate enough to gain admission, notwith- 
 standing that the proper time for locking up had passed. He 
 went straight to his study, and locked himself in. Then, tak- 
 ing out a letter, the postmark of which showed it had been 
 received only that morning, he read it carefully through. It 
 ran as follows : 
 
 WEST STREET, EDBURNE. 
 
 MY DEAR CHARLIE, I have this morning received a reply 
 from your uncle, which has been a long time coming. I 
 believe he has been away from Malaga for some time, though 
 he does not say so. He is, in general, punctual enough in 
 answering letters. Perhaps he has been unwilling to answer 
 this letter ; indeed, I wish he had been longer in answering it. 
 If he had taken more time for reflection, I think he would not 
 have written so harshly. He will not hear of your going to 
 the University that is, he will do nothing towards helping 
 you to go there. He says he does not see what would be the
 
 A Sight of the Register. 231 
 
 good of such a proceeding, as you have no intention of going 
 into orders. He had engaged, he says, to pay your schooling 
 up to Christmas next. By that time you ought to be fit to 
 go into any business take a clerk's place in a bank or a 
 mercantile house ; and if you have not availed yourself of 
 your opportunities, that must be entirely your own fault. As 
 for his own house, if you can produce a good character from 
 your headmaster, and are a tolerable French scholar, and can 
 pass an examination in arithmetic and book-keeping, he will 
 give you a trial. If he should feel satisfied with you, he will 
 " do something more for you." By that I suppose he means, 
 take you into partnership. Indeed, if he should be pleased 
 with you, there is no reason why he should not do this. He 
 has never been married, and, at his time of life, he is not 
 likely to marry ; he has no relative so near as yourself, and 
 he was very fond of your father. 
 
 This offer is all we could wish for you, my dear boy ; but, 
 then, there is the difficulty of the knowledge of French and 
 book-keeping. You told me, I think, when I asked you, that 
 you had never been taught either the one or the other at 
 Holmwood, and certainly you cannot have learnt them any- 
 where else, I mentioned this in a letter to your uncle, and 
 asked whether he would continue his allowance to you for one 
 year more, in order that you might qualify yourself in these 
 two particulars, I am sorry to say that this request seems to 
 have vexed him. You know how suspicious he is apt to be 
 of people trying to encroach upon his kindness, and, unluckily, 
 he has this idea in his mind very strongly, as far as you are 
 concerned. If he came to know you as you now are, Charlie, 
 he would soon change his opinion on this point. But the
 
 232 Who did it? 
 
 misfortune is that he not only does not know you, but has 
 conceived a very unjust and very unfavourable opinion respect- 
 ing you. It would be no use, I fear, attempting to alter his 
 determination on this head. Therefore, so far as I can see, 
 I am afraid you must give up all hope of help from your uncle, 
 It would take at least a year to teach you enough French, as 
 well as arithmetic and book-keeping, to satisfy your uncle's 
 requirements, Mr Hawkin, the actuary, who did a great deal 
 of business for your father, and who is always willing to help 
 us, would undertake to teach you the book-keeping. His 
 charges would be very small, if anything, and you could not 
 have a better teacher; and there is a French gentleman, a 
 Buonapartist, who has lately settled in Edburne, and gives les- 
 sons in French, His charges are five shillings a lesson, I 
 have consulted him on the subject, He tells me that you 
 ought to have at least four lessons a week for at least a twelve- 
 month, and he could not conscientiously undertake to teach 
 you to speak French fluently under that time, however hard 
 you might work. Then there would be your living at home, 
 and the expenses of your outfit and voyage to Malaga ; for 
 your uncle positively refuses to do anything more for you 
 until you present yourself as I wish with all my heart there 
 was any chance of your doing properly qualified, in his 
 counting-house. Altogether it would cost more than a hun- 
 dred pounds probably a hundred and fifty. And you know, 
 my boy, we might as well try, in our present circumstances, to 
 raise a hundred and fifty thousand pounds as a hundred and 
 fifty. It must all be given up, I am afraid. Mr Wilde, who 
 keeps the grammar school here, will take you as one of his 
 junior ushers. It is only forty pounds a year, and the work
 
 A Sight of the Register. 233 
 
 altogether beneath your abilities ; and possibly, Mr Hall, the 
 banker, might give you a junior clerkship ; but even there you 
 would have to prepare yourself by some months' study, at the 
 least, and I do not know how even that could be afforded. I 
 fear Mr Wilde's situation is the only one open to you, and, 
 sorry as I am to have to send you such information, I have no 
 alternative but to do so, Winifred joins with me in love and 
 regrets, Your affectionate mother, SELINA TEMPLE. 
 
 Temple read this long letter twice through before he laid it 
 down, 
 
 " It's like a fatality," he muttered. " That appointment is 
 the very thing I have always fancied, and it would be the 
 making of me, and would relieve my mother and sister from 
 all their troubles. I had quite given up the hope of it when 
 this Hawley prize comes all of a sudden, utterly unexpected, 
 utterly beyond all expectation ; and I should certainly have 
 had it if it hadn't been for my own stupid folly. I don't care 
 twopence what that brute Dilke or that still greater brute 
 Rawes, may choose to say or think, and yet, rather than let 
 them crow over me, I got myself first into that scrape about 
 dressing myself up as a gipsy, and all but lost the chance of 
 getting the exhibition, and then a second time into this still 
 more serious mess, which, if it should become known and I 
 am afraid there is only too much likelihood that it will must 
 needs floor me altogether ! What a fool I have been, to be 
 sure ! Well, anyway it is a lesson which I shall not forget in 
 a hurry ! 
 
 " But how am I to get out of it ? Shall I, after all, take 
 Harry's advice that he gave me just now, and go and tell the 
 whole to Thornton ? No, no, no, it won't do ! My uncle
 
 234 Who did it? 
 
 requires ' a good character from my master.' Old Thornton 
 will say he can't give me one if he knows all that has passed. 
 He'll say his conscience won't let him, and people would 
 blame him if he did, and that I didn't deserve it Well, I 
 suppose I don't ; and if I only were concerned in this business, 
 I think I would speak out, and let Graves or Burton have the 
 scholarship little as it matters to them, while it is all in all 
 to me. But there's my mother and my sister. They would 
 be punished much more than I should, and surely they don't 
 deserve to suffer. 
 
 " No, I must hold on ; and, after all, I think Harry Wilder 
 makes out the matter to be worse than it is. Let him say 
 what he will, I doubt the constables having got possession of 
 that pistol, and I don't understand how they could have got 
 hold of it. Cobbe told me they did not come up to the house 
 till nearly seven o'clock, and I was out fully twenty minutes 
 before seven, hunting everywhere. No; some tramp has 
 picked it up, and is waiting for a reward to be offered. Then 
 this Colonel M'Grath if he comes home before the Haw- 
 ley is settled, and takes up the matter against me, I am 
 utterly done. Well, as I've said before, he may not come 
 before Christmas, and he may consent to keep my secret. 
 Anyhow, there is no use in fretting about this." 
 
 He took out his books and sat resolutely down to prepare 
 his Xenophon lesson for the next day, deaf to repeated raps 
 at his door, and entreaties to be admitted. It was not until 
 he had quite finished his task, having read all that half-a- 
 dozen commentators had to say, having followed out the 
 dialectic variations of every unusual word, and having fully 
 satisfied himself as to every geographical and historical allu-
 
 A Sight of the Register. 235 
 
 sion which occurred anywhere in the lesson, that he desisted. 
 He would then have taken the Latin theme for the week in 
 hand, but that he found it was too near supper-time for this 
 to be of any use. He put away his books therefore, and un- 
 locking his door, strolled into the school-room, where he was 
 instantly fastened on by George Wright and Jack Winburne. 
 
 " We've been looking for you ever so long, old man," said 
 Winburne. " Your study was locked, and I suppose you were 
 inside, as you weren't to be found anywhere else. But if so, 
 you were 'deafer than the rocks of Icarus' wherever they 
 may happen to be, of which we heard in the Horace this 
 morning." 
 
 "I have need to be deaf, Jack," returned Temple, "if you 
 are to thunder after that fashion at my door. It is of no use, 
 I have already told you ; I don't mean to let you and George 
 into my study again till this Hawley prize has been decided." 
 
 " Well, you are right, Charlie." said Wright, " and we must 
 content ourselves with such scraps of your society as you are 
 pleased to give us. But we thought you would like to hear 
 what we had to tell you, even if it did withdraw your atten- 
 tion from Greek particles and Iambics for ten minutes." 
 
 " If you've anything pleasant to tell me, let me hear it now," 
 said Temple. " It will be very acceptable. I haven't heard 
 anything pleasant for a long time now." 
 
 "Well, we've two pieces of information to give you," 
 returned Wright. " In the first place Tom Hibbert and I have 
 been down with old Gurdon, practising for the Regatta, you 
 know. And we had a long confab with the old Captain. 
 You would be pleased if you had heard what he said about 
 you ? "
 
 236 WJiodidit? 
 
 " I know he is a jolly good fellow," said Temple, with a 
 sigh, "and has been very kind much kinder than I deserve!" 
 
 " Yes, but for the last few weeks, you know, he has said 
 very little about you. We thought " he added quickly, as he 
 noticed the expression of Temple's face " we thought that 
 was because you hadn't been to see him. But to-day he did 
 speak of you again, and very kindly. He is fully convinced 
 that the person who killed poor old Nep was Graves. He 
 has got a lot of evidence together, he says, which proves quite 
 plainly " 
 
 " I wish you would say nothing at all on that subject," broke 
 in Temple. " I thought I had already asked you, as a personal 
 favour to me, to say nothing about it But if I haven't done 
 so, I ask you now." 
 
 " Certainly, I will say nothing if you dislike it. I only 
 fancied you would be glad to know that Captain Gurdon 
 didn't believe what Hepburn " 
 
 " Hepburn be hanged," broke out Temple in a fit of anger, 
 which was very unusual with him. " I know he hates me ! I 
 know he would do anything to spite me ! I don't care a pin 
 what he may say ! " 
 
 " Nor do I, Charlie. Well, let us change the subject. 
 Weren't you wishing the other day that you knew how you 
 and Burton and Graves stood in the register of marks ? We 
 were wishing it only this very afternoon." 
 
 " Yes, I did say so, George. I should like very much to know. 
 I have my idea about it, but after all, it is only a fancy. But 
 I suppose there is very little chance of my getting my wish." 
 
 " Quite contrary, Charlie. There's every chance of your 
 getting it. What do you think happened only yesterday ? "
 
 A Sight of the Register. 237 
 
 " I can't say, I'm sure," replied Temple smiling. 
 
 "Why, you remember Hepburn losing the key of his desk 
 on that day, you know, when there was that row, and Baines 
 was up here ? " 
 
 Temple's colour shewed that he understood the reference, 
 but he only bent his head. 
 
 "Well, Hepburn was in such a state of excitement that he 
 hardly knew what he was about. He was bustling here and 
 there all the afternoon. He forgot to call for the day's marks 
 at the usual time ; and if it hadn't been that he remembered 
 the two black crosses to be put to your name and Graves's, 
 I believe he wouldn't have thought about the marks at all till 
 the next day. But just before prayers he recollected that, and 
 felt in his pocket for his key. It wasn't to be found. He 
 searched his pockets, and went up to his bedroom to look 
 there, and then into the Doctor's study and the visitors' room, 
 where he had been talking with Baines ; and he made the 
 fellows search every corner of the schoolroom, and sent down 
 a message to the constable's house to inquire whether Baines 
 had taken it away by mistake. But it was no go. The key 
 couldn't be found ; and the next morning Crew, the locksmith, 
 was sent for to make a new key, which Hepburn has used ever 
 since." 
 
 " I do remember hearing something about it at the time," 
 said Temple. " But I had forgotten it. Well, what then ? " 
 
 " Why, it seems that yesterday afternoon, Rawes and Dilke 
 found this key. They found it in a very strange place 
 in Graves's bedroom." 
 
 " In Graves's bedroom ? " repeated Temple. " How had 
 he got hold of it?"
 
 238 Who did it? 
 
 " I asked that question, Charlie. But no, Graves knew 
 nothing about it It was lying in a corner, between his box 
 and the wall." 
 
 " How in the world could it have got there ? " 
 
 " Well, easily enough," answered Wright. " If you re- 
 member, Hepburn was sent by the Doctor to examine 
 the boxes belonging to both you and Graves. He had the 
 key in his waistcoat pocket, no doubt. He told us, as I 
 recollect quite well, that he always carried it there. No doubt 
 he was leaning over Graves's box, and the key fell out between 
 it and the wall. It might never have been discovered, if the 
 sun hadn't been streaming in through the window, and fell 
 on the key." 
 
 " And how do they know it is Hepburn's key ? " asked 
 Temple. " They didn't show it to Hepburn, I suppose ? '' 
 
 " No, I should think not, Charlie," said Winburne laugh- 
 ing. " They are not the sort of fellows to do that ! They 
 made sure of the fact in a very simple manner. They went 
 down to the schoolroom last night, when all the fellows were 
 in bed, and tried it. It opened the desk, sure enough." 
 
 " And what do they mean to do now ? " inquired Temple. 
 " Do they mean to give it to Hepburn, or throw it into the 
 sea, or what ? I suppose they don't mean to keep possession 
 of it unknown to Hepburn." 
 
 " Well, Rawes and Dilke are noways particular, and I don't 
 think they would have scrupled to keep it in order that they 
 might open Hepburn's desk, whenever it might be convenient 
 to them to do so. But they told Taunton about it this 
 morning, and he told Graves." 
 
 " What did Graves say?"
 
 A Sight of tJte Register. 239 
 
 " He said he wouldn't have it. Dilke must either give it 
 back to Hepburn, or destroy it. It had been found in his 
 room, he said, and he must either see it restored to its owner 
 or broken to pieces." 
 
 "Quite right too," said Temple. "I'm glad he said that. 
 What did Dilke do?" 
 
 " He didn't like it, but he durstn't refuse to do anything that 
 Graves told him to do. So he got the big coal-hammer and 
 knocked it to pieces. But that isn't what I wanted to speak 
 to you about. Last night, when those fellows went down to 
 Hepburn's desk, they saw the Register of Marks and looked 
 at it, so Taunton told me. He said he had seen the list of 
 marks they had copied. He couldn't remember quite 
 accurately. But he said if I wanted to know the numbers, he 
 would get the list again from Dilke and copy it down. I 
 thought you might like to know exactly how you stood at 
 present" 
 
 " Well, I should, George," replied Temple. " If it is known 
 in the school, there is no reason why I shouldn't know it." 
 
 On the following morning he found a slip of paper lying on 
 the desk in his study, with the following written on it. 
 
 STATE OF THE REGISTER OF MARKS. 
 
 Saturday, Aug. 12. 
 
 Burton, - - 118 
 
 Temple, - 109 
 
 Graves, - 106 
 
 Saturday, Aug. 19. 
 
 Burton, - 144 
 
 Temple, 37 
 
 Graves, - 35
 
 r_i: Who did it f 
 
 Sthrrdrr, Sept. 15. 
 
 Temple, - 166 
 
 Graves, - - - 163 
 
 stiH behind Barton," he nmttered. "Twenty- 
 fife pined in four weeks, and tibere are diirteen to come. 
 Wdl, k B posoble, and therefore worth trying.'
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 THE REGATTA. 
 
 Or all the public spectacles exhibited for the amusement of 
 the English people, there is none more lively and spirited than 
 a regatta. It requires, of course to be perfect fine weather ; 
 which is a difficult thing to reckon upon in this English 
 climate. But even in this respect it has the advantage over 
 all other out-door displays. Wet, over head or under foot, 
 render an archery meeting impossible. A cricket match is so 
 sorely marred by moist and slippery turf, as to be shorn of all its 
 glory. People will go to a fair or a horse race in any weather ; 
 but then it is business generally, and not pleasure, that takes 
 them there. Nothing can be more forlorn than the spectacle 
 of marquees and booths soaked through with wet, the flags 
 draggled and drooping overhead, the ground a quagmire 
 under foot. Two or three hours of heavy rain destroy for the 
 entire day the charm of the spectacle. But so long as the 
 rain is not actually falling at the time when the contest is 
 going on, it does not much injure a regatta. The crews, who 
 have been sitting comfortably under cover, turn out with un- 
 impaired spirits ; the boats look all the fresher for the washing 
 they have received ; the race-course itself is as good as ever. 
 In the instance of the Walescliff Regatta even the booths and 
 
 Q
 
 242 Who did it? 
 
 standing-places were wont to suffer little damage from the 
 elements. The hard, shingly shore was as dry in a quarter of 
 an hour, as if no rain had fallen there for weeks ; the large 
 boats in which most of the visitors arrived, and the grand 
 stand, which was run up with poles and rough planks, were im- 
 pervious to weather. Thus, though it had happened that the 
 morning of the regatta had been to all appearance hopelessly 
 wet, yet before twelve o'clock everything looked fresh and 
 brilliant all the more so, in fact, for the heavy rain of the 
 last twelve hours. 
 
 Throughout the forenoon visitors from the neighbouring 
 towns made their appearance most of them by sea, in large 
 fishing boats, or colliers hired or lent for the occasion. All 
 were gaily decorated with flags, and many of them had bands 
 of music on board ; and gaily dressed ladies added lightness 
 and animation to the scene. From inland the gentry came in 
 their carriages, the farmers in their tax-carts, or it might be in 
 large tilted waggons, conveying the whole of the family, house- 
 servants and all, for a day's pleasuring. It was, as the reader 
 has been told, the occasion of a great county gathering, and 
 when the day proved fine, there was no prettier sight to be 
 seen anywhere. 
 
 "Have you got the list of races, James?" asked Cres- 
 singham of young Gunn, as he, Burton, Hill, and Lander 
 entered the old fisherman's cottage about half-past ten o'clock, 
 just after the cessation of the rain. " It is going to be a 
 splendid day after all. Look out to windward there. It is as 
 blue and clear as a fellow could wish." 
 
 " All right, sir," said James. " I knew we were going to 
 have a, fine day as soon as I saw the sky this morning. Here's
 
 The Regatta. 243 
 
 the list My father is to be starter and Captain Gurdon judge. 
 They'll want some of you young gentlemen to row in the 
 umpire's boat, if you'll be so good as to take an oar. The 
 coast-guard lieutenant has lent us his light eight-oared cutter 
 and two of his best men ; and there's Dick Waters and Phil 
 Hawkins, who are only in for the sailing match ; they'll row 
 in all the matches but that, and I am the stroke oar. But we 
 shall want three more, and they must be pretty good hands. 
 I thought if you and Mr Cressingham, and either Mr Graves 
 or Mr Temple " 
 
 ' Neither Mr Graves nor Mr Temple will be at the regatta," 
 said Lander. " I heard Temple himself say he didn't mean 
 to come, and Jerry Taunton was telling us the same about 
 Graves. They never will come out at all now, except when 
 they are obliged, and the doctor wouldn't oblige them to come 
 to this if they didn't like it." 
 
 " Of course not," observed Burton. " But Mr Cressingham 
 and myself will be willing to row if you can get an eighth 
 any where. There are none in the school, I am afraid, who 
 would do." 
 
 " No, sir. Well, we must ask Bill Wigram, I suppose. He 
 has entered for only one race the swimming race, you know ; 
 and as Mr Cressingham, who is to take part in that too, is 
 willing to row, I don't suppose he will refuse." 
 
 " That is settled, then," said Burton. " Now let us look at 
 the list of the races, James. There are a good lot of them, 
 apparently." 
 
 " Yes, sir," replied Gunn ; " and a good many will be good 
 races. First, there's the trial heats for four-oared boats. There 
 are only our own men in them, and the outsiders won't care
 
 244 Who did it f 
 
 much about them ; nor we either, very particularly, because 
 Hawkins's crew is sure to win. Then comes the yacht race ; 
 that will be a pretty sight There's a lot of sweet, pretty 
 boats entered for that. Mr Carington's Red Rover, and Mr 
 Walton's Columbine, and Lord Wandesborough's Intrepid, and 
 the Topaz, belonging to some gentleman at Haverport, and 
 Squire Wolford's Waterloo, and one or two more that I can't 
 remember now. Most of 'em came into the harbour yester- 
 day, and the others this morning. With this wind there'll be 
 a beautiful race. It will be the finest sight of the day." 
 
 " Well, we shall all want Squire Wolford to win," said Hill. 
 " He is a favourite with us." 
 
 " So he is with every one in these parts, sir. Well, then, 
 there comes the trials for the eight-oared boats; that's the race 
 everybody cares most about. There's six boats entered 
 Curleiv, Haverport, Horncombe, Loggington, Walesdiff, and 
 Wickfield. There'll be a tough tussle or two before that's 
 settled. The pairs are all drawn. Loggington and Walesdiff 
 come first." 
 
 " Walesdiff 'will win that, wont it?" asked Lander. 
 
 " So they say, sir. I haven't seen Loggington row ; but I'm 
 told they are no great things. Then come Curlew and Horn- 
 combe. That will be a hollow thing. But Wickfield and Haver- 
 port will have a pretty tough battle, I expect. I couldn't 
 name the winner, nor could any one else, I expect." 
 
 " What comes after that ? " asked Hill. 
 
 " Why, after that comes your swimming race, Mr Hill. I 
 expect there'll be good sport for that too. There's eight in 
 for that six of you Holmwood gentlemen and two of our 
 chaps Joe Raikes and Bill Wigram."
 
 Tfie Regatta. 245 
 
 " Are they dabs at it, James ? " asked Burton. 
 
 "Joe's no good," said Gunn; "but t'other man's a tough 
 customer. I never saw a fellow swim much faster. But 
 Captain Gurdon, he saw him swimming one day, and he said 
 his man would collar him, for all his strength and pluck. If 
 he'd been properly taught, he said, he'd have been too much 
 for his pupil ; but as 'twas, he felt pretty sure Bill would lose 
 the day." 
 
 " I hope he may be right, I'm sure," said Hill. " Well, after 
 the heats for the swimming race, I suppose comes the diving 
 match ? " 
 
 " Yes, sir, and then they stop an hour for dinner. After 
 dinner there's the final race for the four-oars, then the duck 
 hunt, then the race between the two winners of the swimming 
 race, and last of all, the final race between the eight-oars." 
 
 At this moment a loud cheer was heard, and an eight-oared 
 boat was seen rounding the lighthouse rock and rowing 
 leisurely into the harbour. 
 
 " What is that ? " asked Cressingham. 
 
 " That," replied Gunn, looking out of the window ; " Oh ! 
 that's the Wickfield boat at last. I suppose the rain kept 
 them. Yes, there they are. There's young Mr Knyvett steer- 
 ing, and Tom and Bill Bowles rowing stroke and number five. 
 First-rate oars they are, and their boat will feel 'em. We beat 
 the Wickfield last year by a boat's length. But it is as like as 
 not, these two Bowles's having come home, will make all the 
 difference." 
 
 " Bowles," repeated Cressingham. " Did you say the name 
 of the fellow rowing stroke in that boat was called Bowles ? 
 and the one at number five too his name is Bowles, is it ?
 
 246 Who did it f 
 
 Why, Clem, don't you remember that day last August ? Aren't 
 these fellows the same ? Why, they can't have been deserters, 
 to be sure ? " 
 
 " Didn't you hear about that, sir ? " asked Gunn. " There's 
 been such a talk about that business, I thought every one had 
 heard it." 
 
 " What business ? " asked Cressingham. 
 
 " About the two Bowles's, sir. They're most respectable 
 men. Nobody more respected in Wickfield. They're the 
 owners as well as captain and first mate of the Caroline, a 
 fine brig trading for coals between Wickfield and Newcastle. 
 They'd gone to Portsmouth to hire a few more hands, when they 
 were set upon by a press-gang, and carried straight aboard the 
 Enterprise, which was lying off Curlew, ready to sail the next 
 day to Algiers. They told the first lieutenant who they were ; 
 but he'd been earwigged by somebody it ain't at present 
 known quite clearly by whom. They cut up rough, and he 
 had 'em put in irons. But they managed to get clear some- 
 how, and went back to Wickfield. Some people say they 
 swam the whole way, but I don't see that's possible." 
 
 " Well," said Cressingham, " what happened when they got 
 to Wickfield?" 
 
 " Oh, they went straight to lawyer Knyvett, and he wrote 
 up to London about it. An officer was sent down to inquire 
 into the matter I daresay you remember his coming." 
 
 " Yes, to be sure," said Hill ; " he went over from here to 
 Curlew in the Betsy Jane. How did he settle the matter? " 
 
 "He said the Bowles's papers were all right, and their 
 empressment was against the law, and the first lieutenant of 
 the Enterprise would have to answer for his refusal to listen to
 
 The Regatta. 247 
 
 their story, when he came home. But as the poor gentleman 
 was killed in the bombardment of Algiers, I suppose that will 
 come to nothing." 
 
 " Wasn't anything done to the officer of the press-gang ? " 
 asked Burton. 
 
 " Well, it seemed that he had been misled by a man named 
 Carr, a fellow who had been a crimp and a money lender, and 
 I don't know what, in Portsmouth. But he'd run away and 
 couldn't be found. So it ended in the Bowles's being let go 
 free, and an apology and some compensation made them." 
 
 " Do you know at what inn here they put up ? " inquired 
 Burton. 
 
 " At the Anchor, sir, I believe. But if you are going to row 
 in the umpire's boat, it's time you changed your clothes. The 
 four-oars will start in a quarter of an hour now." 
 
 Half-an-hour afterwards the harbour presented a really 
 beautiful spectacle, Though the air was fresh the day was 
 deliciously warm and bright. Even the ladies made no demur 
 to accompanying their male relatives and friends on the water. 
 Light boats, rowing some two, some four oars, with spectators 
 sitting in their sterns, gleamed up and down the course. The 
 headmaster's family filled one large galley, his two sons, Mr 
 Wilkes, and Mr M'Donald taking the oars, while the Doctor 
 himself managed the steering lines. Colonel Wilder, Mr 
 Carington of Horncombe, Mr Walton, the Vicar of Walescliff, 
 and many others occupied boats of larger or smaller size, while 
 along the shore a line of carriages and other humbler vehicles 
 was drawn up, enabling such spectators as were unwilling to 
 venture on the water to obtain a good view of the sport. 
 
 Presently the umpire's boat, with Burton and Cressingham
 
 248 Who did it ? 
 
 among the rowers, and Captain Gurdon sitting beside the 
 steersman, put off, the four-oared boats took their places, and 
 the signal for the start was given. 
 
 James Gunn's predictions were more nearly verified than 
 such predictions are wont to be. The races between the four- 
 oars attracted but little notice. The yacht race was at once a 
 spirited contest, and a highly attractive spectacle. In the first 
 eight-oar heat between Loggington and Walescliff the superi- 
 ority of the latter was too evident from the first to cause much 
 interest to be felt. The same was the case with the second 
 struggle between Curlew and Horncombe, in which the former 
 rowed in easy victors by several lengths. The third, however, 
 proved a complete contrast to the former two. For more than 
 two-thirds of the course the Wickfield and Haverport crews 
 were almost oar and oar, and it was only in the last few 
 hundred yards that the determined pluck of the Wickfield men, 
 and especially of their gallant stroke, landed them the winners 
 by little more than a single boat's length. 
 
 The cheers of the partisans of Wickfield had hardly died 
 out when a throng of spectators, among whom the Holmwood 
 boys were especially conspicuous, were seen moving down 
 towards a flag-staff erected about a quarter of a mile from the 
 grand stand. This was the starting point for the swimming 
 races, the great event of the day in the estimation of the boys. 
 There were to be two heats, and four competitors in each heat. 
 The names of the eight entered for the prize were written on 
 slips of paper and thrown into a hat, from which they were 
 picked out by James Gunn, who had been blindfolded for the 
 occasion. It was found that the first batch was to consist of 
 Cressingham who, together with Wigram, had landed to take
 
 The Regatta. 249 
 
 their parts in the struggle, leaving the umpire's boat with six 
 rowers only Taunton, O'Toole, and Bill Wigram, and the 
 second of Hibbert, Wright, Hill, and Joe Raikes. 
 
 " All the best swimmers are in the first lot," remarked old 
 Gunn sotto voct to Captain Grimes, as they proceeded to the 
 starting place followed by a crowd of boys. " Whoever wins 
 the first heat is pretty safe to win the prize." 
 
 " Well, I don't know that, John," returned the Captain in 
 the same tone. "All the four in the first heat are good 
 swimmers, and three of 'em very good, and in the second lot 
 three of 'em isn't worth very much, I grant you that. But the 
 fourth he that Captain Gurdon has been training, Wright his 
 name is is as good a hand as I've seen for many a year past. 
 I seen him last Friday going over the course with the Captain 
 following him in a boat. I've never seen anything prettier than 
 the way he skimmed through the water, just under the surface 
 and no more. Maybe he wont win, but it will be a good 
 swimmer that beats him. What I want to see is how the day 
 will go betwixt Will Wigram and these young Priory chaps. 
 I've never seen them swimming together. Will is ever so 
 much stronger than they are I haven't often set eyes on a 
 finer young chap. But he don't swim in very good form. His 
 legs are too low in the water, and his shoulders too high. I 
 am curious to see 'em matched." 
 
 " You'll soon have your wish, Cap'en," said Gunn. " They 
 seem to be all but ready now. Young gentlemen," he con- 
 tinued, raising his voice, " you understand, I suppose, how this 
 start is managed. Bill Mullins in the punt there takes hold 
 of one end of this chain, and I keep a grip on the other. You 
 four each of you just touches the chain with one hand, till I
 
 250 Who did it? 
 
 give the word. Then we let the chain drop, and you goes off 
 as fast as you can." 
 
 " We understand well enough, old boy," said Taunton, who, 
 conspicuous in his red cap and tightly-fitting red drawers, had 
 contrived to job himself into the place nearest the shore, where 
 he knew that the stream did not run so strongly as somewhat 
 further out. " We know all about it. It doesn't require to 
 be a Solomon to understand how it is managed. Just sheer a 
 little further off, my hearty," he continued, addressing Wigram, 
 who occupied the next place to him. " We are hardly clear 
 of one another, and if we foul we shall simply spoil our own 
 game." 
 
 " Don't ye come too near me either," exclaimed O'Toole, 
 who appeared equipped with green drawers and swimming cap, 
 the colour being a compliment, as he expressed it, to the 
 Emerald Island. " Ay, that will do, man. We couldn't be 
 better than that. James, ye villain, why don't ye give the 
 word ? How long am I to be kept here like a fish dangling 
 on to a night line ? " 
 
 " I'm quite ready, Mr O'Toole, if the others are. Now then, 
 gentlemen, one, two, three, off! " 
 
 Both men dropped the chain as he spoke, and the four 
 swimmers instantly struck out with all their force. It was 
 some little time before they were fairly away, and then it was 
 seen that the contest was likely to be a severe one. O'Toole 
 had fallen a yard or so behind, and was struggling with all his 
 strength to regain his position. Cressingham and Taunton 
 were leading, as nearly abreast as possible, and Wigram was a 
 foot or two behind. In this order they reached the buoy 
 moored in front of Grimes's cottage, and passing round it,
 
 The Regatta. 251 
 
 commenced the swim homewards, having now the tide against 
 them. But by the time when they were fairly started on their 
 return, it had become plain to all that the palm of victory 
 would fall to either Cressingham or Wigram. 
 
 O'Toole had never recovered his first loss of distance, and 
 the violence of his exertions soon exhausted him. He was 
 now fully twenty yards behind, and though he continued with 
 unabated courage to struggle on, it was evident that he had 
 not the slightest chance of success. 
 
 Taunton had kept even with Cressingham, a few feet in ad- 
 vance of Wigram, until the buoy was reached. But he did not 
 manoeuvre the turn as skilfully as his adversaries, losing two 
 or three yards before he was fairly at work again. The 
 spectators presently became aware jthat he was unable to 
 regain his place, and he gradually fell further astern. 
 
 Cressingham and Wigram both contrived to clear the 
 buoy quickly and skilfully, the former still keeping a lead of 
 a few feet. But they were now swimming against tide, and 
 Wigram's strength began to tell. He reduced the distance 
 between himself and his antagonist slowly but surely. The 
 latter strove gallantly to maintain his position, and for two- 
 thirds of the remaining distance was still slightly in advance. 
 But at this point of the race, even the Holmwood boys were 
 obliged to admit to themselves that unless some accident 
 should occur, the young fisherman must of necessity go ahead. 
 The excitement grew every moment more intense. The 
 swimmers were still a hundred yards from the grand stand, 
 when the shouts of the delighted Walescliffites announced 
 that their man was at last fairly ahead, and was gradually 
 widening the interval between himself and his rival. Two
 
 252 Who did it? 
 
 minutes more and they passed the winning post, Wigram 
 having a lead of two or three feet. 
 
 The vexation of the boys at this result was all the greater 
 in proportion to its having been, almost to the last moment, 
 unexpected. For years past the swimming race had been 
 won by some champion from Holmwood, and the boys had 
 come to look upon it as a thing belonging almost exclusively 
 to themselves. Once or twice competitors from the town had 
 entered for it, but it was considered rather a saucy thing for 
 them to do, and anyway the interlopers had always hitherto 
 been ignominiously defeated. This year, more particularly 
 when two or three of their number had been declared by old 
 Gunn to be more than ordinarily good swimmers, it was most 
 annoying. To be sure it was some comfort that in the 
 second heat, not only Wright, but Hibbert and Hill also, had 
 fairly distanced the Walescliff champion, while Wright had 
 outstripped his two school-fellows, apparently without exertion. 
 But then the race had taken half a minute longer to swim than 
 had been the case in the previous heat, and that did not look 
 as though Wright was likely to win the day against the re- 
 doubted Wigram. The boys clustered together on the shore, too 
 full of their subject to take much note of even the diving match, 
 which was won easily enough by Hibbert, who did due credit 
 to Captain Gurdon's training, satisfying even his somewhat 
 severe requirements. At the three o'clock dinner, the final con- 
 test between Wright and Wigram occupied almost exclusively 
 the conversation of the boys. 
 
 " I'm afraid the snobs will have it their own way," observed 
 Taunton to Hill, who was sitting next him. " That fellow 
 Wigram is a perfect Hercules for muscle, and can hold out
 
 The Regatta. 253 
 
 any time apparently. I don't suppose there is much difference 
 between Cressingham and Wright. The only time, I believe, 
 that they ever swam against one another at the regatta last 
 year Cressingham came in before him." 
 
 " That's true," answered Hill ; " but they say Wright has 
 improved immensely this last month, and old Gurdon, his 
 trainer, says he is safe to win. Certainly he went ahead of all 
 of us easily enough. And, I think, Wigram must be afraid of 
 him. He has refused to row any more in the umpire's 
 boat, for fear of tiring himself before the race. Harry Wilder 
 has agreed to take his place." 
 
 " That looks well," said Taunton ; "and I should certainly 
 be sorry if the cup, which has stood on a bracket in the 
 dining hall for I don't know how many years, should be 
 carried off, to be exhibited, it may be, in the tap-room at the 
 Anchor. But, I say, where is Burton ? " 
 
 " He is down there, close to the door," returned Hill. 
 " He came in very late. I think I saw him going to the 
 Anchor, as soon as the crew of the umpire's boat had landed. 
 Well, dinner is over now. What is the first race to come off 
 now?" 
 
 "The final heat for the four-oars," said Hill, "then the 
 duck hunt, then the match between Wright and Wigram, and 
 lastly, the decisive race between the winners of the eight-oar 
 heats, Curlew, Wickfield, and Walescliff." 
 
 " I don't care for anything till the swimming race," said 
 Taunton. " The last heat between the eight will be worth 
 seeing. But I am tired of the duck hunt, and the four-oars too." 
 
 The boys in general seemed to share his opinion. They 
 hardly troubled themselves to leave the room where they
 
 254 Who did it ? 
 
 had dined to see the four-oar contest, and looked rather 
 listlessly on while the duck hunt was in progress, notwith- 
 standing that in former years it had been a great source of 
 amusement to them, and this year the hunt was unusually 
 good. But when it was concluded, and the bell rung for the 
 decisive heat of the swimming race, a very different state of 
 things ensued. Wright was followed down to the starting 
 place by nearly half the school, and when he and his burly 
 antagonist had taken their places, and the signal for starting 
 was given, there were no bounds to their eagerness. They 
 ran shouting at the top of their voices along the shore, pro- 
 phesying every moment that their champion would go ahead, 
 or .imploring him to make greater exertions for the honour of 
 the school ; while the sailors and fishermen on their side 
 were almost as clamorous. But for a long time neither party 
 seemed to gain advantage. The tartan cap, which was 
 Wright's distinguishing badge, moved on in almost exactly 
 the same line with the rough bare locks of his antagonist. 
 They reached the buoy almost at the same moment, and swung 
 lightly round it without advantage to either. As the last quarter 
 of a mile of the course was against the tide, it was now gene- 
 rally thought that the palm would fall to Wigram. But to the 
 boys' unbounded delight, the return course had no sooner been 
 entered on than Wright began gradually, and to all appearance 
 easily, to move away from his opponent. Wigram exerted 
 his great strength to the utmost ; but it speedily became evi- 
 dent, in vain. Lightly, and without apparent effort, the 
 Holmwood champion glided along, increasing with every 
 minute the length of his lead, until he passed the judge's 
 chair, at least twenty yards in advance of his rival,
 
 "THE HOLM WOOD CHAMPION GLIDED ALONG.' 
 
 Page 254.
 
 The Regatta. 255 
 
 The boys were now in a state of the utmost satisfaction. 
 Not only had the honour of the school been fully maintained, 
 but a most unexpected and glorious victory had been won ; 
 and cheer after cheer testified their exultation. They were 
 now in a frame of mind to watch with interest what the 
 spectators generally regarded as the most important contest of 
 the day the final encounter between the three successful 
 eight-oars, Curlew, Wickfield, and Walescliff. This was 
 indeed a most doubtful matter. All three crews consisted of 
 strong and practised oarsmen. Curlew was thought to be 
 slightly inferior to the two others, while these were regarded 
 as so nearly matched, that it was thought the victory would 
 depend on the choice of stations. Nor were these anticipa- 
 tions without foundation. Unluckily the toss was won by 
 Wickfield, who took their place under the shelter of the high 
 cliffs which guarded the harbour, while Walescliff had to breast 
 the full force of the stream. After maintaining a most gallant 
 struggle, oar and oar with their adversaries for two-thirds of 
 the distance, the Walescliff champions were at last left in the 
 rear, and rowed in about a boat's length astern of the victors, 
 the Curlew boat following several lengths behind. 
 
 The victors stepped ashore to receive the congratulations of 
 their friends, and the umpires' boat almost at the same moment 
 came alongside the landing-place. Then Burton sprang out 
 and hurried up to the steersman of the winning crew, whom 
 he tapped on the shoulder. 
 
 " Frank," he whispered in his ear, " I have been trying to 
 come to speak with you all day, but I couldn't catch you. I 
 want so much to have a talk with you." 
 
 " I have been looking after you, Burton ; but I could not
 
 256 Who did it? 
 
 get away till the race was over. Come into this booth here. 
 It is quite empty. I suppose you want to inquire about George?" 
 
 "Yes," responded Burton, "have you any letter for me? 
 He is afraid, I know, to write directly to me, because his 
 handwriting might be recognised, and the post-mark shew 
 where he is. But he promised to write under cover to you." 
 
 " I am sorry to say I have no letter for you. I have heard 
 heard only this morning. But his letter is about his own 
 affairs. He only tells me to remember him most kindly to 
 you." 
 
 " He makes no answer to my request?" asked Burton. 
 
 " He does not notice it. I think he cannot have had your 
 letters, though I forwarded them immediately, or perhaps one 
 of his letters to me may have miscarried." 
 
 " It puts me into a most awkward fix," said Burton. " I 
 really do not know what to do. You are sure of George's 
 address now, are you?" 
 
 " I know, of course, where he writes from, but he will make 
 no stay there. He gives me the address, however, to which I 
 am now to write. If you have any message to send, I will 
 take charge of it. I shall write as soon as I get home." 
 
 "Very well, Frank. If you will come up with me to the 
 Anchor I will write a few lines for you to enclose, and please 
 the moment you hear anything from him, let me know it." 
 
 " I promise you most faithfully I will, Clement. Let us go 
 up to the Anchor at once."
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 THE FOOTBALL MATCH. 
 
 Six or seven more weeks had passed. The autumn was fast 
 passing into winter, and the Holmwood boys had long since 
 begun their football season. Nothing of any consequence had 
 taken place since the day of the regatta. Captain Gurdon 
 had never been able to discover anything to substantiate the 
 charge which he was anxious to make against Stephen Graves; 
 nor, to all appearance, had the constables succeeded in throw- 
 ing any light on the mystery of poor Neptune's death. The 
 boys were beginning to believe that they had heard the last of 
 the matter, and it was gradually ceasing to form a topic of 
 conversation among themselves. The competition for the 
 Hawley prize, however, seemed to excite the greatest interest 
 The reader is aware that almost to the day of the regatta, 
 although Temple and Graves had both of them gained con- 
 siderably upon Burton, the distance between him and them 
 was so great, that there appeared but little prospect of their 
 overtaking him. The discovery made by Wright and Win- 
 burne as to the state of the register up to that date, had some- 
 how or other transpired in the school, though it was not 
 known how the discovery had been made, and the general
 
 258 Who did it? 
 
 impression in consequence was that Burton would win after 
 all. But from the day of the regatta there was a marked 
 change in the aspect of things. Burton had up to that time 
 been doing his school work, if not brilliantly, at least tolerably 
 well. Temple and Graves might gain seven or eight marks 
 upon him in the course of the week, but never more, and on 
 an average not so much. But after the day of the regatta a 
 change had seemed to come over him. His compositions, 
 which had always been good, and sometimes merited a higher 
 epithet, became so mediocre as to obtain very few marks, and 
 his lessons fell off in the same manner. His two adversaries, 
 who continued to exert themselves as determinedly as ever, 
 were now plainly and rapidly diminishing the distance between 
 them and him. Once more the opinion began to grow up in 
 the school, that in the long run he would be found to be 
 number three, instead of number one. Doctor Thornton 
 appeared to be as much surprised as anybody at the turn 
 which things were taking. Mr Hepburn, who was not only 
 perplexed but a good deal annoyed, once or twice said a few 
 words to Burton on the subject, but the boy received them 
 in a manner, which made it difficult for him to say anything 
 further. 
 
 The masters, however, were not the only persons who saw 
 the progress of things with dissatisfaction. One day, late in 
 November, Cressingham came to the resolution of remon- 
 strating seriously with his friend. The two boys had always, 
 to some extent, been friends, and since Alford's departure, a 
 close intimacy had grown up between them. If Burton would 
 listen to an appeal from any one, it would be from Cressingham. 
 Aware of this, Hill and Lander had requested Fred to speak
 
 The Football Match. 259 
 
 to Burton in behalf of them all, and Dr Thornton himself 
 had also hinted as much a day or two before. Cressingham 
 felt that the present day would be a suitable one for carrying 
 out his purpose. There was to be a football match between 
 the Holmwood boys and those belonging to a large school at 
 Haverport. Neither Cressingham nor Burton were to play. 
 The latter had excused himself on the simple grounds that he 
 would rather not take part in the match, and Cressingham 
 had hurt his hand a few days previously, which precluded 
 him from playing. The match was to take place in the cricket 
 field, and the two boys had taken their places in the balcony, 
 in front of the cricket pavilion a place which none but first 
 class boys were allowed to enter. As all the other seniors 
 were engaged in the match, the two friends had the balcony 
 to themselves, and could talk without interruption from any. 
 
 It was a bright, clear November day. The Haverport lads, 
 eighteen in number, who had come over in an old stage coach, 
 hired for the occasion, made their appearance a little after ten 
 o'clock in the morning, and the play was to begin about 
 eleven. Various reports of their prowess, size, and strength 
 had reached WalesclifF, and roused the spirit of the school to 
 a greater pitch than ordinary. A football match in those days 
 was not the elaborate and artistic affair which it has been made 
 in recent times. It consisted, in fact, in little more than in 
 marshalling two hosts, supposed to be equally endowed with 
 skill and strength, in an enclosed ground, with a goal at either 
 end, throwing a football into the midst before them, and allow- 
 ing them to kick it hither and thither as they pleased. The 
 minute and stringent rules, originating with one public school 
 or another, and formed into a regular system by football asso-
 
 260 Who did it ? 
 
 ciations, had in those days no existence. "Scrimmages" and 
 "hots," "back players," and "bull-dogs," and "skirmishes," 
 " dribbling " and " touching," were things as yet undreamed 
 of. If the ball was kicked, no matter how, beyond the goal 
 of the one party, it was scored as a victory for the other. 
 Then it was brought back, placed in the middle of the ground 
 again, and the contest was renewed as before. There was 
 less artistic skill, no doubt ; but it may be a question whether 
 there was not just as good fun as in the present day. 
 
 At all events, neither the Holmwood nor the Haverport team 
 thought that any code of laws was necessary to their enjoy- 
 ment. By eleven o'clock they were all stripped to their 
 jerseys, trousers, and highlows ; these, with a handkerchief 
 tied round the waist, constituting the whole of their football 
 toilet. The combatants were drawn up in two long lines, equi- 
 distant from the central point of the field in which the ball had 
 been placed, some three or four minutesbeforethehour of eleven. 
 As soon as the minute-hand reached the figure of twelve on 
 the umpire's watch, he shouted aloud, " Play," and the whole 
 thirty-six players swept simultaneously down on the ball. 
 
 The play at first was tolerably even. Both parties consisted 
 of schoolboys of seventeen and eighteen, in the very prime and 
 flower of their years active, inaccessible to fatigue, and in- 
 exhaustible in energy, as seventeen and eighteen alone can be. 
 The ball flew hither and thither, driven a few feet in one direc- 
 tion and then driven back again ; now flying over the heads 
 of the one party, and anon caught and sent spinning through 
 the air in the opposite direction ; sometimes buried under a 
 heap of players, who had tumbled over one another like clowns 
 in a circus, and then exhumed by some nimble-footed cham-
 
 The Football Match. 261 
 
 pion, who would carry it before him for a few yards until he 
 was tripped up by another as nimble, to fall prostrate on 
 mother earth, and arise again one mass of muck and mud, but 
 in nowise daunted. 
 
 Burton and Cressingham stood awhile looking on in silence ; 
 but neither of them was absorbed by the interest of the game. 
 Burton's thoughts apparently were far away, as had been gene- 
 rally the case with him for some weeks past ; and Cressingham 
 was thinking how he might best introduce the subject which 
 he had resolved to broach with Burton. At length his atten- 
 tion was attracted by a loud shout of "Graves! Graves!" 
 "bravo, Stephen !" He looked, and perceived that his school- 
 fellow had contrived to force his way through the throng of 
 his opponents, carrying the ball before him, and overthrowing 
 champion after champion of the Haverports, until he had fairly 
 forced it through the Haverport goal, and one was scored to 
 his side in consequence. 
 
 " Graves is playing well to-day, Clem," he remarked; " bet- 
 ter, I think, than Charlie Temple, who is generally thought to 
 be our best player. They are two strange fellows those, 
 Clem." 
 
 " Graves and Temple," repeated Burton, absently. " Yes. 
 they are both of them clever fellows. They seem to be able 
 to do pretty well anything they like." 
 
 " I don't know about that, Clem. I think they are allowed 
 sometimes to do things, because other fellows don't prevent 
 them, who might if they liked, things which, to my mind, 
 they oughtn't to be allowed to do !" 
 
 " As what, Fred?" asked Burton, turning r short round on his 
 companion. " I am not sure that I understand you."
 
 262 Who did it ? 
 
 " I think you must, Clem. One of the things they are doing 
 is getting before you in the register of marks. I don't think 
 they ought to be allowed to do that ! " 
 
 "Who allows them?" asked Burton, his brown cheek glow- 
 ing crimson as he spoke. 
 
 " Well, Clem, don't be angry if I speak the truth. You are 
 allowing them, and they couldn't do it if you did not allow 
 them." 
 
 At this moment their attention was attracted by a loud shout 
 from the spectators. One of the Haverport players a tall, 
 powerful fellow had succeeded in forcing the ball away 
 through a knot of his opponents, who were gathered about it, 
 and driving it by straight kicks to the Holmwood end of the 
 field. First Rawes and then Lander had thrown themselves 
 in his way, but had failed to stop him the former being 
 thrown on one side, and the other laid flat on the field. The 
 victorious champion still continued his course, amid the 
 vociferous applause of his partisans. The Holmwood players 
 rushed after him in vain. Graves was too far behind to render 
 any help. There was no one between the Haverport player 
 and the Holmwood goal except Temple, and he was too light 
 a weight to encounter such an antagonist with any success. 
 All hope of averting the disaster seemed lost. But Temple's 
 extraordinary lightness of foot enabled him to reach the ball 
 a second or so before his rival, and to drive it by a side kick 
 out of the other's reach, when it was caught by some of the 
 Holmwood players, and kicked back again. 
 
 Burton and Cressingham looked on while this was passing, 
 too much interested to continue their conversation until 
 it was over. Burton would fain have taken the opportunity
 
 The Football Match. 263 
 
 or letting it drop altogether, but Cressingham was resolved to 
 persist. 
 
 "To go on with what I was saying, Clem. You asked 
 who it was that allowed Temple and Graves to go ahead of 
 you in the register of marks. I repeat there is only one 
 person that allows it, and that is yourself. I add, there is also 
 only one person who could prevent it, and that person also is 
 yourself." 
 
 "What makes you think that?" asked his school-fellow, 
 doggedly. 
 
 "What makes me think it?" rejoined Cressingham. "Why, 
 my own common sense. Look here. You and I, Clem, have 
 gone through the school together. We have been in the same 
 class for four years past. I never knew you all that time fail 
 to get a heap of marks every week for your school work. But 
 ever since this Hawley prize was announced, you have been 
 falling off. For the first three or four weeks you did get 
 something like your former average, while these fellows got at 
 least twice the amount they had been getting before " 
 
 " Surely I have nothing to do with the number of marks 
 which Graves and Temple get," interrupted Burton. 
 
 " Of course I know that, Clem ; and if you had done as 
 well as you usually did, I shouldn't at all have wondered at 
 their gaining on you. They are, both of them, extremely 
 clever fellows, and they have been working in a manner they 
 never did before, ever since the day when notice was given of 
 this Hawley prize. I am certainly surprised at the determined 
 manner in which they have persisted in their work, but it has 
 been all plain sailing so far as they are concerned. It is of 
 you and your doings that I speak."
 
 264 Who did it ? 
 
 He paused, but his friend was silent, and he went on. "I 
 can of course guess your motive. You think it is all important 
 to them to one of them, that is to get this prize, and you 
 are resolved to let him get it, so far, that is, as you are con- 
 cerned. Can you, yourself, deny that is the simple explana- 
 tion of your failure ? " 
 
 Burton was still silent. His companion after looking some- 
 time wistfully in his face, began once more. " It's very 
 generous, Clem, it's like you. But I think you oughtn't to 
 do it. All of us, all your friends, think you oughtn't. In the 
 first place, it isn't fair to yourself. You mean to go to the 
 University, don't you?" 
 
 " I believe my aunt means to send me there," said Burton. 
 
 " Just so, and I have often heard you say that you didn't 
 like being dependent on your aunt, and you wished you could 
 do something for yourself : at least, I think I've heard you 
 say so." 
 
 He looked interrogatively at his friend. 
 
 " Yes, Fred," said Burton, reluctantly, " I have no doubt 
 you have often heard me say so. It is certainly the fact." 
 
 "Well, then, why should you prefer these two fellows, 
 Graves and Temple why should you prefer them to your 
 aunt in this way ? Why sacrifice your aunt, not to say your- 
 self, to them ? What claim can they have upon you, like that 
 of your own nearest relative ? Why are you to miss the prize, 
 which everybody knows ought to be yours? And besides 
 that, neither of these fellows deserve any consideration at your 
 hands. If there had been a good fellow, like Hill, in the way, 
 whom every one would like to help ; or a poor fellow like 
 Lander, whose father, it is well known, can't pay his son's
 
 The Football Match. 265 
 
 school bills, and who is allowed by the Doctor to stay here out 
 of sheer kindness, it might be a different thing. But here's this 
 fellow Graves rolling in riches. It is well known that he only 
 wants to gain this Hawley prize in order to buy a new gun 
 with the money. And here again is Temple " 
 
 He was again interrupted by a louder cry than before from 
 the field. Haverport had been getting the best of it for some 
 time past, and had kicked one or two goals in advance of 
 their opponents. But the Holmwood players had made a 
 determined attempt to stem the current of misfortune, and had 
 so far succeeded that they had carried the ball into the middle 
 of the ground again, where a desperate encounter was going 
 on. Hickson, the tall Haverport champion of whom mention 
 has been made on the one side, and Stephen Graves on the 
 other, had rushed up to the rescue, and met in the centre of 
 the field with a force which threw them both backwards, so 
 sorely shaken that they were unable for the moment to rise, 
 while Charlie Temple, skilfully catching the ball with his foot, 
 as it flew on one side, drove it onward with a series of kicks 
 until it was driven past the Haverport goal, and one was 
 scored by his side. " Bravo, Temple," " Well done, Temple," 
 was the cry of the delighted boys. 
 
 " Bravo, Temple, say I," continued Cressingham. " He is 
 as clever as good tempered, and as amusing a fellow as ever 
 came to Holmwood ! But he doesn't deserve that you should 
 give up your right and neglect your work for him, not to speak 
 of injuring your relatives and disappointing your friends. I 
 know his circumstances are altogether different from those of 
 Graves. I don't suppose his case is as bad as Geoff. Lander's, 
 but no doubt he really wants the Hawley money. But he
 
 266 IV ho did it? 
 
 oughtn't to have it Even if he were fairly at the top of the 
 register he oughtn't to have it." 
 
 "Why not, Fred?" inquired Burton. 
 
 " Why not ? you know why not because he killed poor 
 old Nep." 
 
 " Who knows that he did that? " rejoined Burton. " That 
 has never been proved. The charge has been dropped be- 
 cause it couldn't be proved." 
 
 " It has never been proved, Clem, chiefly because you and 
 I have never told what we knew. But if we had, do you 
 think there could have been much doubt on the subject ? If 
 it had been known that, not only did he want to go out that 
 night for some reason that has never been explained but 
 that he, and he only, knew of that secret passage by which a 
 fellow could get out at night after the gates had been locked, 
 wouldn't the thing soon have been made clear then ? I don't 
 say it would have been proof enough in itself sufficient to con- 
 vict him, but it would have set Baines on his track, and he 
 would soon have followed it out." 
 
 " You are convinced then, Fred, that Temple did it ? " said 
 Burton. 
 
 " Yes, Clem," returned Cressingham, " and so are you in 
 your heart. See here every one knows that Temple was 
 determined to shoot that match with Graves ; many fellows 
 further know that he had asked Harry Wilder, the day before 
 the match the very day on which Nep was killed, to lend 
 him a pistol. Harry Wilder, with the pistol-case in his hand, 
 was seen talking to him just before lock-up. But Temple was 
 late, and Tom Cobbe was waiting at the gate to lock it, before 
 he parted with Wilder. It was impossible for him to bring
 
 The Football Match. 267 
 
 the pistol-case in then. Who can doubt that it was agreed 
 between them that Wilder should bring the pistols after 
 dark, and that Temple wanted to go out in order to fetch 
 them ? " 
 
 " He may have wanted to go out," rejoined Burton, " but 
 that is no proof that he did go out." 
 
 " It's no positive proof, of course," said Cressingham, " nor 
 did anybody, so far as I know, see Temple lift the bar in the 
 hall window after we were gone to bed, or creep out through 
 the secret passage. But be sure he did, and old Nep, whom 
 he did not know to be loose, followed him " 
 
 "Just so," broke in Burton, "nobody saw him, therefore 
 nobody knows that he really did do it. And nobody has a 
 right to say that he did it/' 
 
 " Perhaps no one may have a right to say it," said Cressing- 
 ham, " but they have a right to their own thoughts, and you 
 cannot but think him guilty. Any how, if the Doctor knew 
 that he was in the habit of getting out that secret way, he would 
 never let him have this Hawley prize. You must allow that. 
 Why, Clem, he'd expel any one he caught doing that expel 
 him without more words about it ! " 
 
 " I wish you wouldn't worry me about this," said Burton, 
 wearily. " I don't think you have a right to assume any of 
 the things you have been claiming to know. It is only your 
 guess that I am not doing my best, and I don't mind telling 
 you that, in the main, you are wrong about that. There's 
 been a good deal to bother and annoy me lately, and I don't 
 feel up to much. It's only your guess, again, that Temple went 
 out after we'd gone to bed, much less that he crept through 
 that hole, and poor old Nep after him. Guesses, to my mind,
 
 268 Who did it ? 
 
 don't go for anything, and and and don't be angry with me, 
 Fred," he added, suddenly changing his manner and holding 
 out his hand ; " I know you mean it all as kindly as possible, 
 like the friend you always are and have been. But don't go 
 on with this. It won't do any one any good." 
 
 Cressingham shook his friend's hand, and might have added 
 some more, but at this moment the voice of the umpire was 
 heard announcing that the hour was up, and the game con- 
 cluded. It had been a very close and interesting match. 
 Haverport had kicked nine goals and Holmwood ten ; and 
 this result, while it put the Holmwood lads in high spirits, 
 did not depress the other party. Mutual compliments were 
 exchanged between the two headmasters, as well as between 
 the two rival teams, and arrangements made for the return 
 match to take place some day towards the middle of Decem- 
 ber. After partaking of supper, the Haverport lads took their 
 departure, well pleased with their day's sport ; and their 
 opponents, crowding into the school-room, began to discuss 
 another topic, which the football match had hitherto kept in 
 the background. This was the programme to be adopted on the 
 occasion of the headmaster's birthday, the only whole holi- 
 day which occurred throughout the whole of the winter half- 
 year. The birthday itself was the tenth of December, but it 
 was always kept on the Wednesday nearest to that day, and 
 this year the day for its observance would be the thirteenth. 
 It happened opportunely that the hounds were to meet on that 
 day at Darlaston Hall the seat of Squire Wolford, who was 
 a very popular personage, not only with the boys, to whom he 
 always shewed kindness, but with the neighbourhood generally. 
 Like Squire Hawley, he had once been the pupil of Dr
 
 TJte Football Match. 269 
 
 Thornton's father, and the schoolfellow of the Doctor him- 
 self, and he was wont to welcome most hospitably such of 
 the boys as the headmaster, on rare occasions, allowed to visit 
 him. 
 
 On the present occasion it was hoped that the first-class, 
 and possibly the second also, might be allowed to attend the 
 hunt breakfast, if Mr Hepburn, or haply the Doctor himself, 
 could be prevailed on to escort them thither. In any case 
 Graves, whose guardian and sister were to be present, and 
 Taunton, whose father was master of the hounds, would be 
 sure to obtain permission, and if they were to be allowed to go, 
 and the Squire was willing to have a dozen more, why shouldn't 
 they go too ? The only difficulty lay in the numbers. There 
 were ten first-class boys and twelve second. This was too 
 large a party for even Squire Wolford to entertain. But pre- 
 sently it was discovered that a good many would be prevented 
 by one reason or another from being present. Burton declared 
 that he should prefer staying at home. He assigned no reason, 
 but simply stated the fact Cressingham had a sick headache 
 and was indisposed for any amusement. Field had been sent 
 for home, and two of the second-class had sustained so much 
 damage in the football match that they could not walk the 
 distance to Darlaston. Besides this it was found that Captain 
 Gurdon had invited five of the first-class to join him in an ex- 
 pedition to the Witherne Caves, and dine at an adjoining 
 farmhouse. In this manner the total of the first two classes 
 would be reduced to twelve or so, and that was not a larger 
 number than had gone over to Darlaston on previous occasions. 
 
 Captain Gurdon's invitation had been given to Wright and 
 Winburne a day or two previously.
 
 2/o Who did it ? 
 
 " It's much too late in the year for a water party, my lads/ 
 he had said, " and no doubt the pleasantest mode of going to 
 the Caves is by water ; but I should like to show them to you, 
 and we may not have another opportunity. We can have the 
 large two-horse fly from the King's Arms, dine at Barnard's in 
 the middle of the day, and come back to supper at my house. 
 What do you boys say to it ? " 
 
 " I say, sir," said Wright, to whom the question was more 
 immediately addressed, "that I am very much obliged, and 
 should enjoy going very much, and so I have no doubt would 
 the others be, whom you are kind enough to ask. How many, 
 and who are they ? " 
 
 " There can be only five, I am afraid," replied the Captain. 
 " If it were the summer or the autumn, it would be a different 
 matter. We could go in a boat which would hold a dozen ; 
 but the fly wouldn't have room for more than the number I 
 named. I could drive it, to be sure, and one could sit by me 
 on the box ; but you could hardly cram more than four inside. 
 No ; five must be the number, and those had better be Tem- 
 ple, Winburne, Hibbert, Warner, and yourself." 
 
 " We should all like that very much, sir, I am sure," said 
 Winburne. " Do you wish George and myself to speak to the 
 others, or will you invite them yourself? " 
 
 " I shall be away to-morrow," said Captain Gurdon, " and 
 they might make some other arrangements if they weren't 
 asked pretty soon. I think you had better give them the 
 invitation in my name." 
 
 Wright had accordingly propounded the matter to his 
 schoolfellows, all of whom eagerly caught at the notion, with 
 the exception of Temple, who replied that he was greatly
 
 The Football Match. 271 
 
 obliged to Captain Gurdon for his kindness, but he had taken 
 one holiday in order to play the football match with the Haver- 
 ports, and he could not afford himself another. 
 
 " Oh, Charlie, do come ! " Wright had said. " It will be 
 such jolly fun. The Witherae Caves belong to LordWandes- 
 borough, you know, and he will only admit people by ticket 
 to see them, and old Grimes says it isn't at all an easy thing 
 to get tickets for it now. Then the old Captain is sure to give 
 us a splendid lunch, and supper too. The Barnards, who live 
 at Witherne Farm, close by, are old friends of his. Joe Bar- 
 nard was a quartermaster on board his ship, I believe. We 
 are to have the lunch at his house, and the Captain means to 
 send over a lot of things besides fish and game and two 
 bottles of champagne, and I don't know what. Do come, 
 Charlie ; it will be glorious fun ! " 
 
 " I daresay you'll think me very obstinate, George," said 
 Temple ; " but I made up my mind that I wouldn't strike work 
 again until this Hawley Exhibition is decided." 
 
 " But, Charlie," said Winburne, " Graves is one of those 
 going over to Darlaston. He is going to my certain know- 
 ledge ; so you won't lose anything that he won't lose too. As 
 for Burton, you needn't mind him, at all events." 
 
 " Why do you say that ? " asked Temple, anxiously. " You 
 don't mean that you know how the register stands ? Those 
 fellows haven't been looking again, have they ? " 
 
 " Those fellows," repeated Winburne. " What, Dilke and 
 Rawes do you mean ? They haven't had the chance. They're 
 not likely to find a second key of Hepburn's desk any- 
 where." 
 
 " Certainly not," observed Wright " Nevertheless, if
 
 272 Who did it ? 
 
 Charlie is very anxious to hear how the register stands now, 
 I could find out." 
 
 "How could you manage that, George?" asked Winburne. 
 
 " Never mind how I could, and I shouldn't have to get 
 hold of any one's key, or anything of the kind. Shall I do it, 
 Charlie?" 
 
 " If you can find out without doing anything wrong or run- 
 ning any risk, of course I should like to know,'' replied 
 Temple. 
 
 " Very good. I'll find out how the marks stand if I can."
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 THE MEET AT DARLASTON. 
 
 DARLASTON HALL was a fine old English mansion, built early 
 in the reign of Charles I., and exhibiting all the characteristic 
 features of the architecture of that day ; for it had undergone 
 little change during the two succeeding centuries. There are 
 some styles more pure, more imposing, and more graceful than 
 the late Jacobean (or Caroline, as it is sometimes called), but 
 none that is more picturesque. The quaint gables, the mas- 
 sive pillar-like chimneys, the huge bays, the long lines of 
 shapely casements, each with its stone mullion and transom, 
 the lofty pedimented doors, make up a frontage which, for 
 artistic mingling of light and shade, can hardly be exceeded. 
 
 An English country house never shows to more advantage 
 than on the morning of a hunt breakfast The woods by which 
 it is almost invariably surrounded are clad in the varied liveries 
 of departing autumn green, red, and yellow intermingling 
 like the plumage of some tropical bird ; the shrubberies and 
 pleasure-grounds are alive with groups, which, for diversity of 
 outline and colour, may match with those of the environing 
 foliage. In the sweep before the house liveried grooms are 
 leading away the horses from which red-coated owners have 
 
 s
 
 274 Who did it ? 
 
 just alighted ; stout farmers on their serviceable cobs, though 
 too conscious of the deficiencies of their " eddycation " to 
 presume to take their place among the " quality " at the 
 Squire's breakfast table, are nevertheless improving the occa- 
 sion by copious draughts of the good ale which the steward 
 and his myrmidons are liberally dispensing ; groups of sturdy 
 fellows in smock-frocks and scarlet-cloaked village dames look 
 on admiringly, noting to one another each fresh arrival of 
 some well-known neighbour. On the wide lawn the hounds 
 are mustered under the charge of the huntsmen and whippers- 
 in the latter somewhat disposed to murmur at the length of 
 time before the commencement of business ; for, though the 
 breakfast has been ordered at eleven o'clock, the meet is not 
 to take place, even nominally, till twelve, and it will probably 
 be later still before the real work of the day begins. Aware, 
 however, of the fact, they console themselves very com- 
 pletely, to all appearance with the solid viands and potables 
 brought out for their refreshment, while the dogs, who have 
 no such sources of comfort, yelp and whimper at the unusual 
 delay. 
 
 On the steps in front of the great Hall doors stands Squire 
 Wolford, arrayed in the quaint, if not picturesque, hunting 
 costume of the day, rendered familiar to all travellers by its 
 frequent exhibition on the walls of tap-rooms and inn parlours. 
 He is a fine specimen of the old English squire, of sixty 
 bluff, sound, and hearty, his hair only partially grizzled by 
 years, and his strength and appetite as yet in no way impaired. 
 He greets with a joyous shout and a cordial grasp of the 
 hand the sportsmen in pink and green and black, as they 
 ride up one after another.
 
 TJie Meet at Darlaston. 27$ 
 
 " Ha, Taunton, glad you've arrived. Glorious day, isn't it ? 
 What a run we shall have ! Good morning, my lord par- 
 ticularly pleased to see you, they told me you wouldn't be able 
 to come were away somewhere.'' 
 
 " I have been in London," says Lord Wandesborough, 
 " but returned yesterday in order to be here." 
 
 " Did you, that's hearty. How d'ye do, Lumley ? How 
 d'ye do, Miss Clara? You mean to follow the hounds, I 
 suppose, on that clever pony of yours ? Just the thing for 
 you." 
 
 " No, Mr Wolford, I am afraid I am not horsewoman 
 enough as yet to venture on that. Can you tell us if we are 
 to see my brother here to-day ? " 
 
 " Your brother ? What ! Stephen ? Oh, to be sure, he is 
 one of Thornton's boys. Yes, I believe so. There is a 
 whole lot coming up from Holmwood a dozen or so, so Mr 
 Hepburn said. He is going to bring them, if I remember 
 right your boy among them, Taunton, you may be sure. 
 Good day, Colonel Wilder, good day, Harry ! Mean to be 
 in at the death both of you, I'll wager it ! " 
 
 " We mean to do our best that way," answers the Colonel, 
 dismounting and committing the two horses to his son, for 
 lack of a groom. " But this is Harry's first day with the 
 hounds, and it is very likely it may be my last, for I seem to 
 get shakier every time I try it on. So you mustn't be hard 
 on either of us." 
 
 " Shaky, Colonel, not a bit of it Ah, here comes Hepburn 
 and the boys. How do, lads ? How do, all of you ? Go 
 indoors and take your places in the dining-room. Breakfast 
 is just going to begin. You'll find your father, Taunton,
 
 276 Who did it ? 
 
 and you, Graves, your guardian and sister. They were 
 asking for you a moment ago." 
 
 The boys thronged in, nothing loth, and seating themselves 
 at the long table, already half filled with guests, prepared to 
 do justice to the delicacies spread in tempting profusion be- 
 fore them. They had had their usual half-past eight o'clock 
 breakfast of " scrape" and " skye-blue," as they were wont to 
 style it ; but the three hours which had intervened, the brisk 
 walk, and the sight of the dainties with which the board was 
 loaded, had banished all recollection of the repast in question. 
 Taunton and Graves were seated with their own friends ; but 
 the others, seven or eight in number, clustered close together, 
 as if for mutual support in the campaign, which they were 
 about to commence, taking care to keep as far as possible 
 from Mr Hepburn's observation. 
 
 " Strange fellow, that Temple," whispered Dilke to Payne, 
 as they took their places. " There is never any reckoning on 
 what he will do, or what he will not do. Yesterday he told 
 Hepburn, as plainly as possible, that he didn't wish to go to 
 either Darlaston with the first and second class, or to Spene- 
 leigh with the juniors. He meant to stay at home, he said, 
 if the Doctor would allow it." 
 
 " Yes," returned Payne, " and he had refused old Gurdon's 
 invitation, just in the same way, a week before. The old 
 Captain's back was a bit put up about it, I believe, but Temple 
 didn't seem to mind. Wright and Winburne, too, his cronies, 
 tried hard to persuade him to go to Witherne Caves, but 
 Temple stood out about it, and wouldn't listen to them. 
 And then this morning, just after breakfast, he went to the 
 Doctor and told him he had changed his mind, and very
 
 The Meet at Darlaston. 277 
 
 much wished to go to Darlaston to the breakfast, after 
 all ! " 
 
 " I wonder Thornton allowed it," remarked Dilke. " He 
 doesn't in general allow fellows to play fast and loose in that 
 way." 
 
 " I don't suppose he would," returned Payne, " but he had 
 made a row, I believe, about Temple's staying at home ; 
 declared he would make himself ill, and all that sort of 
 thing. I shouldn't be surprised if he had written about it to 
 Mother Temple, for Charlie had a letter this morning, which 
 he took into his study to read, and it was just after that that 
 he went to the Doctor." 
 
 " Well, he was wise at all events," said Dilke ; " a fellow is a 
 fool who misses a spread like this, if he can go to it. And 
 here comes the old Squire to take the end of the table, and 
 Hepburn's going to say grace. Just what he is good for ! " 
 
 Meanwhile, Temple had been manoeuvring in vain to get 
 the next place at the table to Harry Wilder. He had been 
 induced to change his mind in the matter of the hunt break- 
 fast, by a letter which he had that morning received not as 
 Payne had supposed, from his mother, but from his friend 
 Harry. It informed him that the writer was anxious to see 
 him as soon as possible ; and as they were both, he believed, 
 going to the meet, they had better choose their opportunity 
 of meeting somewhere after the breakfast, privately in the 
 grounds. Harry went on to say that Charlie must be sure to 
 come, as the matter in hand was very pressing. Temple went 
 immediately to Dr Thornton, and with some difficulty gained 
 his permission to accompany his schoolfellows. He had 
 encountered further difficulty from the senior usher, who had
 
 278 Who did it ? 
 
 expressed surprise at seeing him present himself as one of 
 the party, and required an explanation, which Charlie had to 
 stumble through as well as he could. He sat on thorns 
 throughout the breakfast, unable to relish the delicacies, or 
 enter into the fun which pervaded the whole table. He 
 noticed that Harry Wilder seemed almost as uneasy as him- 
 self. He had been introduced by his father to a lady, who 
 was evidently some relative or old acquaintance of the 
 Colonel's, and who continued throughout the breakfast to ply 
 him with questions, which Harry was obliged to answer. But he 
 cast every now and then a glance at Charlie, which expressed 
 an impatience of what was passing, which was almost equal 
 to his own. 
 
 At length the entertainment came to an end. The health 
 of the Squire had been drunk, with three times three, and 
 responded to in a speech which evoked even greater en- 
 thusiasm. Then the party broke up, the carriage drive was 
 thronged with red coats and stamping steeds ; the hounds 
 moved off under the convoy of the huntsmen to the cover 
 appointed, and in ten minutes the old Hall was left to the 
 occupation of the ladies, and such of the male guests as were 
 disinclined, or unable, to witness the principal sport of the 
 day. 
 
 At Squire Wolford's especial request, Mr Hepburn had 
 allowed the boys to accompany the hounds to cover, and be 
 witnesses of the scene, until the fox should be found and the 
 hunt disappear in the distance ; with the express condition, 
 however, that they should not attempt to follow the hunt, but 
 return forthwith to the Hall. While they were hurrying out 
 under the Squire's escort, full of eager and joyous excitement,
 
 The Meet at Darlaston. 279 
 
 Temple and Harry Wilder contrived to slip away from the 
 throng of boys who were too busy to trouble themselves 
 about the movements of any living creatures, except the horses 
 and dogs. Turning into a narrow shrubbery walk, they hurried 
 along, till they found themselves on the edge of a thick planta- 
 tion, having met no one but a red-haired rustic in a smock 
 frock, who stared at them with dull and fishy eyes. 
 
 " This will do, Charlie," said Wilder. " We needn't go any 
 further. Here is no one who can overhear us, excepting the 
 sheep," he added, laughing, and pointing to a flock which had 
 retreated to the cover of the wood, alarmed probably by the 
 braying of the horns and the shouts of the crowd. 
 
 " Yes, this will do," assented Temple. " Well, Harry, what 
 is it which you have to say to me ? " 
 
 " What you won't like to hear, I am afraid. My father had 
 a letter yesterday evening from Colonel M'Grath. He had 
 already reached St Helena on his way homeward. The ship 
 was to remain for a day or two at the island, and he had sent 
 a letter by the Argus, a vessel which was just weighing anchor 
 for England. But he expected, he said, to be at home almost 
 as soon as the Argus, his own ship being the faster sailer. 
 His arrival at Plymouth may be looked for any hour that is, 
 if he hasn't landed already ! " 
 
 " He hasn't actually arrived, then ? " asked Temple. 
 
 " No, he hasn't reached England, so far as we know," 
 answered Wilder. " But there is small comfort in that." 
 
 " I don't know that," rejoined the other. " If he doesn't 
 come " 
 
 " What nonsense," broke in Harry Wilder, angrily. " It 
 may put off discovery for twenty-four hours, perhaps, or pos-
 
 280 Who did it ? 
 
 sibly two days ; but then everything is sure to be found out. 
 There is nothing for it, Charlie, but to confess the whole 
 matter at once. " I am sorry for you, of course ; but I don't 
 see " 
 
 " Just wait a moment, Harry, and let me finish my sentence. 
 If Colonel M'Grath doesn't arrive to-day, he may come as soon 
 as he likes. I shall not care." 
 
 " What do you mean, Temple ? " 
 
 " I'll tell you. I have found the pistol that is, I know 
 where it is." 
 
 " You do ? Where and how did you find it ? " exclaimed 
 Wilder, in great surprise. 
 
 " Hush. Sit down on the stile here, and I will tell you. 
 You know there is a very hard run going on between Burton, 
 Graves, and myself for the Hawley prize " 
 
 " Yes, I know that. I've heard of it several times." 
 
 " It has been thought a very doubtful matter by a good 
 many of the fellows which of the three stands first in the 
 register at the present time. Hepburn has kept the list of 
 marks shut up close, and won't let any of the fellows look at 
 it. There has been a great deal of curiosity on the subject." 
 
 " I daresay ; but what then ? " 
 
 " One of the fellows discovered accidentally that Hepburn 
 had taken the register out of his desk, and carried it up 
 into his bedroom. His bedroom is not kept locked, you 
 know." 
 
 " And I suppose he went into the bedroom while Hepburn 
 was out of the house, and looked at the register." 
 
 " Just so. He looked last night, and found out that I was 
 eight marks above Burton, and three still above Graves."
 
 The Meet at Darlaston. 281 
 
 " Really ! Well, I congratulate you, Charlie, with all my 
 heart. But I don't see " 
 
 " You don't see," said Temple, filling up the void which the 
 other had left, " what that has to do with Colonel M'Grath 
 and his arrival in England." 
 
 " Well, no I do not, Charlie, and that's the fact." 
 
 " Nor do I. But the fellow who looked last night into 
 Hepburn's room saw something else there besides the register. 
 He saw a pistol " 
 
 " A pistol ! " exclaimed Wilder. 
 
 "A pistol; an old-fashioned pistol, with the letters M. M'G. 
 engraved on it" 
 
 " How did Hepburn get hold of it ?" 
 
 " That I can't say, or how long he has had it. I suppose 
 he had offered a reward for it, and the person who picked it 
 up, whoever he may have been, took it to him. You may 
 remember that I wanted to offer a reward ever so many weeks 
 ago, but I hadn't the means of doing it." 
 
 " And what do you propose to do now ? " 
 
 " I shall go straight into Hepburn's room to-night and take 
 the pistol away. I consider I have quite a right to do so. It 
 was 1 who lost it, and I am going to restore it to its proper 
 owner." 
 
 " There is something in that certainly," said Harry Wilder ; 
 " but I suppose you won't go and demand it of him. You'll 
 wait till he is out of the way." 
 
 " I should like to claim it openly ; but I can't do so with- 
 out betraying the whole matter, and there are many reasons 
 against doing that. Then I must get out the old way I 
 don't like it, but it can't be helped and take it to "
 
 282 Who did it ? 
 
 " The Gipsy's Hollow, and there, I suppose, you will expect 
 to find me waiting for you," suggested Wilder. "Well, I 
 have no doubt that will be best. If I get the pistol back, and 
 replace it in M'Grath's box to-morrow night, he is, as you 
 say, welcome to come back as soon as he likes. Well, really 
 this is a great piece of luck ! Of course, Hepburn doesn't 
 suspect either who the fellow was who lost the pistol, or who 
 the fellow was to whom it belonged, does he ? " 
 
 " I have no reason for supposing that he does either the 
 one or the other," was the answer. 
 
 " And your friends, Wright and Winburne " 
 
 " Oh, they would say nothing, even if they knew all about 
 this. But they don't. They were wondering what Hepburn 
 could want with a pistol, and were speculating as to whether 
 he was afraid of the house being robbed." 
 
 "That won't do, Charlie," said Wilder. "Hepburn, of 
 course, will make a row about the pistol having been taken 
 away, and your friends must suspect that it is you who took it." 
 
 " If they do, they'll hold their tongues ; I'll go bail for it," 
 said Temple. " I forgot there would be a row about the 
 removal of the pistol. No doubt there will be ; but that can't 
 be helped, and there will be nothing to connect the pistol 
 either with you or with me. If it is necessary, I will speak to 
 George and Jack Winburne. I'll simply tell them that I 
 borrowed the pistol to shoot the match with Graves indeed 
 they know that already ; that I lost it in the shrubbery, and 
 suppose that Hepburn must have found it himself, or that 
 some one brought it to him, and that all I have done has 
 been simply to take it and return it to its proper owner ; that 
 will be enough to tell them."
 
 The Meet at Darlaston. 283 
 
 " Quite* enough," assented Wilder. " There is no reason 
 for their knowing anything more, and the less they know the 
 easier for them. Well, that is settled then ; and now I think 
 the sooner we part company the better. We've been talking 
 here a long time, and it will be a wonder if we are not missed. 
 My pony is waiting for me in the Squire's stable-yard. I shall 
 gallop after the hunt as hard as I can go. I daresay my 
 father is miles away by this time well up with the hounds, 
 most likely, as he is on one of his best horses to-day, and 
 always rides pretty straight. He won't take much heed of me, 
 I expect, until the fox is killed. Good-bye, Charlie. By-the- 
 bye, you didn't name the time when we were to meet at the 
 Gipsy's Hollow." 
 
 " Better say a quarter before ten," said Charlie. " Hep- 
 burn is sure to go to the Doctor's study this evening, and he 
 never leaves that before half-past ten. I shall go to his room 
 near about half-past nine, and shall be back and safe in bed, 
 I hope, before he has found out that the pistol has been car- 
 ried off." 
 
 " All right," said Wilder, " I shall be sure to be there. 
 Good-bye." 
 
 He hurried off through the shrubberies towards the stables, 
 and in two or three minutes afterwards Temple saw him gal- 
 loping at the utmost speed of his pony down the lane, hidden 
 from the observation of the people still remaining at the Hall 
 by the cover of a high hedge. Temple sat down on the stile 
 for a few minutes, and looked after him. 
 
 " I suppose it must be all safe now," he reflected, " but we 
 have had a narrow escape too narrow to be by any means 
 pleasant. I am clear ahead of Burton now, and there is very
 
 284 Who did it ? 
 
 little chance of our positions being reversed. When the last 
 week's marks are added to the total I shall be at least eighteen or 
 twenty in advance of him. And Graves hasn't caught me either, 
 as I feared he had. It is a precious good job that I happened 
 to be three or four marks above him when we first started 
 on this race, or he would have been too much for me. I have 
 never been able to gain a single mark on him. Well, there is 
 only one week more, or rather three days more, and then it 
 will be all over, and if I have a lead of only one mark it will 
 be as good as a hundred. Well, Charlie Temple, my young 
 friend, as the Doctor would say, you got yourself into a nice 
 hobble not that he'd say 'hobble,' which isn't classical 
 difficulty he'd call it you have got yourself into a serious 
 difficulty, and though you appear to have got out of it again, 
 which is more than you deserve, I hope you will take warn- 
 ing, and be wiser another time. And now that you have had 
 your lecture, which I hope will do you good, you had better 
 go and join the others, or you will have old Hepburn down 
 upon you." 
 
 He let himself down from the stile as he spoke, and made 
 his way across the field into the lane, down which he had seen 
 Harry Wilder disappear. Out of this one of the gates of the 
 park opened. Temple entered by it, and presently found 
 himself in front of the house, on the doorsteps of which a 
 dozen or so of his schoolfellows were collected, with Mr Hep- 
 burn at their head, evidently in no very amiable frame of 
 mind. 
 
 He was not half-way across the field, when a man who had 
 been lying apparently in the ditch a few feet only from the 
 stile, crept cautiously out, and getting behind the hedge, which
 
 The Meet at Darlaston. 285 
 
 separated the field from the wood, began tramping up and 
 down to warm himself. It was the same man who had met 
 Charlie and Harry half-an-hour before. Probably from his 
 appearance he was the shepherd, though, if so, he had allowed 
 the sheep to stray to a considerable distance. 
 
 " Chilly work this," he muttered to himself, drawing, as he 
 spoke, a flask from his pocket, and taking a long draught from 
 it. " Enough to give a man his death of cold. However, I 
 have got to the bottom of it now, and that is something ; and 
 it's what I suspected, and that is more. It's a good job, that 
 they were so full of what they were talking about, that they 
 took no notice of anything else, or they must have heard me 
 creep up under the bank. Well now, there is no time to be 
 lost. We must catch 'em to-night. I'd better see Mr 
 Hepburn at once." 
 
 Meanwhile the last-named gentleman had seen Temple's 
 approach as he came up the gravel walk. 
 
 " Here is another," he exclaimed angrily. " Where have 
 you been all this time, sir ? You were expressly told, as you 
 know quite well, that you were not to attempt to follow the 
 hounds." 
 
 "I haven't done so, sir; I assure you," said Temple 
 demurely. " I have just been looking about me a little just 
 through the shrubberies to the edge of the wood, and back 
 again by the lane." 
 
 " Humph," said Mr Hepburn with a dissatisfied glance at 
 Charlie's coat and trousers, which indeed did not exhibit the 
 damnatory evidence which the habiliments of some of his com- 
 panions presented. " You ought in any case to have been 
 here before this. Well, never mind now. Stay here with the
 
 286 Who did it ? 
 
 other boys, until we can find those still missing. They are 
 Graves and Taunton, I believe. All the rest appear to be 
 here." 
 
 " Here they come, sir," exclaimed Dilke, as three mounted 
 figures, followed by a servant, came at a hard gallop across 
 the meadows, and clearing the park fence at a bound, dis- 
 mounted on the lawn. 
 
 " Yes, here they are, and I'm glad to see them safe," said 
 the Usher. " Well, Graves, Taunton, O'Toole, what business 
 had you " 
 
 " Sir James Taunton sends his compliments, sir," said the 
 groom riding up, " and I was to tell you that he had taken 
 the liberty of allowing the three young gentlemen to take a 
 quarter of an hour's gallop before they went back to school, 
 and he hopes you'll be so kind as to overlook it." 
 
 Mr Hepburn growled like a dog whose food is snatched from 
 him, before his appetite is satisfied. But Sir James Taunton 
 was a person of too great consequence to allow the Usher to 
 say anything which might possibly give him offence. When 
 he sent his son to Holmwood, and afterwards persuaded his 
 neighbour, Mr Lumley, to send his ward there also, it was 
 considered the school had gone up two or three degrees at 
 least in the public estimation. It was even hoped that Lord 
 Wandesborough's sons, the Honourable Master Wartons 
 that they too, when they grew old enough to be sent to school, 
 might be numbered among the Doctor's pupils. Mr Hepburn 
 was therefore constrained to desire the servant to take back 
 his compliments to Sir James Taunton, and the young gentle- 
 men had come back quite safe. He indemnified himself, 
 however, as soon as the servant was out of hearing by ordering
 
 The Meet at Darlaston. 287 
 
 the boys in a very gruff tone to fall in two and two, and set off 
 on their walk homewards. " It will be nearly four o'clock 
 before we are home," he said, "and I had an engagement 
 which I was particularly anxious to keep at half-past three. 
 Well, we must step out as fast as we can, and make up for lost 
 time. What do you want my good friend," he continued, as 
 a labouring man, dressed in a smock-frock and leather gaiters, 
 and a hat with a large brim, came up apparently to speak to 
 him. 
 
 " I wants to zay a wurd or two to 'ee, measter," said the man, 
 whom, by the crook in his hand, Mr Hepburn now perceived 
 to be a shepherd. " I wants to zay a wurd to 'ee, if 'ee could 
 just wait a bit." 
 
 " I suppose these boys have done some mischief or other 
 to this man's property, or his masters, thought Mr Hepburn, 
 and he wants compensation. I must hear him, I suppose, 
 though it's very tiresome. Well, my good man, what is it ? " 
 
 " I'd rayther speak to 'ee aloane, zur, if 'ee please," returned 
 the shepherd. " Send they there chaps away if 'ee please." 
 Then observing that the Usher hesitated, he stepped close up 
 to him and said in a low tone, quite different to the one he had 
 spoken in before, " Bartholomew Baines." 
 
 Mr Hepburn started, and looked the man hard in the face. 
 Then turning to the boys, he said : " This man has some 
 complaint to make to me, I suppose. I must hear wh.at he 
 has to say, but I don't suppose it will take more than a minute 
 or two. Walk on quietly towards Holmwood. I shall over- 
 take you before long quietly, mind, and keep to the road." 
 
 The boys, in no way enamoured of Mr Hepburn's society, 
 complied willingly enough, and obeyed his injunctions with
 
 288 Who did it? 
 
 tolerable fidelity till they were out of ear-shot, after which 
 it is to be feared that his admonitions that to walk quietly at 
 all events vanished wholly from their recollections. On the 
 contrary, they began to talk all together, each one anxious to 
 tell his own experiences, lending a deaf ear to those of his 
 companions, who were equally anxious to impart theirs to him. 
 Mr Hepburn's assurances that he would overtake them in a 
 few minutes were not verified. They had reached home in 
 fact fully half-an-hour before he arrived, looking very red and 
 heated, and enquiring anxiously for Doctor Thornton.
 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 WITHERNE CAVES. 
 
 CAPTAIN GURDON had mustered his party, and set off for 
 Trawler's Gate, before Mr Hepburn and his boys had met in 
 the schoolroom. The Captain was a man who would have 
 his orders obeyed ; and the fly from the King's Arms, and the 
 four Holmwood boys invited to fill it, were at the old officer's 
 house five minutes before the time named. But when they 
 arrived there, they found that a change had been made in the 
 programme of the day. The weather was so extraordinarily 
 mild for the time of the year, and the wind so favourable, that 
 Captain Gurdon had resolved, after all, on going to Trawler's 
 Gate by water, and returning in the fly. Before seven o'clock, 
 his favourite four oared boat, the Havannah, had been run 
 down, her sails and oars got aboard, and the hampers stowed 
 away in the bow and stern. The fly was directed to proceed 
 about three in the afternoon to Barnard's farm-house, and there 
 wait until the Captain and his guests were ready to return. 
 
 The four boys were all in the highest spirits. It had been 
 agreed that no one should be invited to take Temple's place. 
 There were none of the first or second class boys who were 
 sufficiently intimate with the four invited, or with the Captain 
 
 T
 
 290 WJio did it ? 
 
 himself, to make the companionship agreeable, and four were 
 enough to row the boat to " Trawler's Gate" and fill the fly 
 afterwards. 
 
 Captain Gurdon had been a good deal put out by Temple's 
 refusal to join the party. He had taken a great fancy to the 
 lad, and he was one of those thorough going partisans, who 
 stick to a friend through thick and thin, as the saying is, until 
 they are compelled by some unanswerable facts to distrust 
 them, and then they give them up for good and all. There 
 had been no facts at least the Captain did not allow that 
 there were any facts to induce him to change his opinion of 
 Charlie ; and the oft-repeated encounters between himself and 
 Mr Hepburn, only strengthened him in the notion he had 
 adopted. Mr Hepburn persisted that no unprejudiced person 
 could entertain any reasonable doubt of Temple's guilt, though 
 the boy's cunning had been sufficient to evade actual proof. 
 The Captain on his side argued that it was Hepburn's notorious 
 dislike to Temple, and that only, which could blind him to 
 the fact that there was no case at all against Charlie, but an 
 overwhelming case against Graves. After repeated battles, at 
 the end of which the combatants parted, more determinedly 
 assured of the correctness of their several views than they were 
 before the action began, they had at last tacitly dropped the 
 subject ; but both were aware that hostilities were only sus- 
 pended, and if either champion should find his cause materially 
 strengthened by any fresh evidence coming to light, war would 
 be forthwith again declared. 
 
 " If I could only prove that Graves was out that morning," 
 the Captain was wont to say to himself, " if I could only prove 
 that, my case would be complete. And he must have gone
 
 Witherne Caves. 291 
 
 out. If the pistol case had been brought up after the servants 
 were up and about, the person who brought it must have been 
 seen ; nor would Graves have been allowed to go out to meet 
 him. And yet it is strange that the boy who took them at the 
 coach office hasn't come forward to receive the reward I 
 offered five pounds. Graves may have given him a larger 
 sum to hold his tongue, but that is surely most unlikely. Well, 
 I must bide my time. I have a strong idea that the truth will 
 come to light after all." 
 
 On the morning of the expedition to Witherne, the old man 
 seemed to have for once altogether forgotten the subject; 
 which on other occasions was tolerably sure to turn up sooner 
 or later in any lengthened conversation, as King Charles's 
 head was wont to crop up in Mr Dick's memorials. He 
 bustled about, superintending the launching of the Havannah, 
 and the careful conveyance of the hampers to the shore, which 
 labours occupied him until past his usual breakfast hour. He 
 greeted the boys on their arrival with an encomium on that 
 excellent quality which they had displayed punctuality ; and 
 in ten minutes more they were aboard the boat, the sail hoisted, 
 while the Captain, seating himself in the stern, took the tiller. 
 
 " We shall get to Trawler's Gate, quite comfortably, in an 
 hour and a quarter, or certainly in an hour and a half, if this 
 wind lasts. What a strange climate ours is. Who would 
 believe that this was the second week in December. It might 
 be a morning in May." 
 
 " Do you think it will last, sir?" asked Wright. 
 
 " No," said the Captain, standing up and making a careful 
 examination of the sky in all directions. " It will be fine all 
 the morning I expect, but I won't answer for the afternoon
 
 292 Who did it ? 
 
 even. It is quite as well that we are to go back in the fly. I 
 should not be surprised if there was heavy rain before night- 
 fall, and that were followed by a sharp frost. But you lads 
 wouldn't mind that, I dare say." 
 
 " No, we should like a frost, sir. There is capital skating 
 on the bathing pond, and we have been getting tired of foot- 
 ball for the last week." 
 
 They were now clear of the harbour, running easily along 
 towards Cockle Head, with Crawley Head and Curlew beyond, 
 standing out in bold and picturesque relief. 
 
 "What can that be out there, sir?" asked Wright, pointing 
 to some object at a considerable distance out to sea. " It 
 looks like the folds of a great snake. Is there such a creature 
 as the sea serpent, sir?" 
 
 " I can't say," replied the Captain, smiling. " But I can tell 
 you that that is not one, though you are by no means the first 
 person who has made the same mistake. That is a shoal of 
 porpoises you see tumbling one behind another. It is very 
 unusual for them to come so near the coast as this. They are 
 generally to be met with some considerable distance out to 
 sea, where they will run along by the side of a ship, sometimes 
 for half an hour together." 
 
 " Have you ever seen a sea-serpent yourself, sir ? " asked 
 Winburne. 
 
 " I can't say for certain that I have seen one," replied the 
 Captain. "I have been on board ships, from which they 
 were said to have been sighted ; and once I did see something 
 that looked very like one." 
 
 " Tell us about it, sir, if you please," said Hibbert. " We 
 should all very much like to hear it."
 
 Witherne Caves. 293 
 
 " There is very little to tell, Hibbert. It was not very long 
 after I went to sea. I was a midshipman on board the 
 Phosphorus, a tolerable-sized frigate. We had been sent to 
 cruise about between Shetland, the Faroe Islands, and the 
 coast of Norway. One day, when the greater part of the 
 officers and crew were down below at dinner, there was a 
 great noise on deck. One of the middies came tumbling 
 down among us, declaring there was a great big snake, as long 
 as a ship's cable, to be seen, not two hundred yards off. We 
 all rushed up on deck, and found half the ship's company 
 staring hard at something or other about a quarter of a mile off, 
 I should guess. It was lying flat on the sea, and was certainly 
 bent in folds like a snake, and at one end there was something 
 like a head sticking up four or five feet out of the water. 
 But the sun wasn't out, and there was a heavy bank of clouds 
 above it, and the water was so dark, that it was difficult to 
 make out the exact shape of the creature. We were running 
 away from it, too, before a stiff breeze, and in a few minutes 
 it became impossible to distinguish it at all." 
 
 " Then you don't think it was a serpent, sir ? " suggested 
 Wright. 
 
 " I can't say what it was," answered the Captain. " We 
 had a Norwegian sailor on board, who declared that sea- 
 serpents, as big as what we had seen, were for ever shewing 
 themselves off the Norway coast, and were as well known there 
 as seals, or whales either. But others said it was nothing but 
 a large lump of sea-weed, and certainly I have seen pieces of 
 weed which were a good hundred feet long, bent and twisted 
 just like a snake's body, and very near the colour too. I 
 dont' know what to say about it, my lads. I suppose the
 
 294 Who did it ? 
 
 matter will never be set at rest, until a sea-serpent is thrown 
 up or hauled ashore, and it wouldn't be a very easy thing to 
 do that." 
 
 While this conversation was passing, the boat had steadily 
 made its way round the rocky promontory known as Cockle 
 Head, and under the steep Hanger Cliffs, with the narrow 
 strip at their base, which was left bare only at low water and 
 at certain states of the tide. These past, the boat came in 
 sight of Trawler's Gate, as a wide opening in the rock was 
 called, leading to a steep and very picturesque glen, at the top 
 of which stood the Abbey ruins. Both these and the 
 Witherne Caves were 'favourite places of resort during the 
 summer months for such visitors as could obtain cards of 
 admission from Lord Wandesborough or his stewards ; though 
 these, as has been already intimated, were somewhat charily 
 dispensed to applicants. 
 
 " Here we are," cried the Captain, as the keel grated on 
 the sand. " Now lads, we'll haul her up, and make her fast 
 to the post there, and then carry up the hampers to Barnard's 
 house." 
 
 The boys obeyed, nothing loth. With their united strength 
 they dragged the vessel above high-water mark, and there 
 secured her. Then they lifted out the baskets in which the 
 Captain's good cheer had been stowed away, and conveyed 
 them up the rude flight of steps which wound upwards through 
 the narrow glen. 
 
 Barnard's farm-house was conveniently located in a slight 
 hollow, some twenty yards from the Cliff, which rose precipi- 
 tously from the sea-shore to the height of more than a hundred 
 feet. It was an exceedingly picturesque looking building,
 
 Witherne Caves. 295 
 
 being designed as nearly as possible to harmonize with the 
 grey old ruins in its immediate vicinity. Mrs Barnard, who 
 was an old acquaintance of the Captain's, and was, moreover, 
 well accustomed during the summer months to cater for 
 visitors, readily undertook to have dinner ready for the party 
 in an hour's time. Meanwhile they could examine the 
 Witherne Caves, and it was arranged that after dinner they 
 should make an inspection of the ruins before returning home. 
 They set out accordingly, under the guidance of a little 
 lame girl, who was sitting working with her needle in the 
 farm-house kitchen, and for the next hour were very busy in 
 examining the curious hollows in the limestone rock, known 
 as the Witherne Caves. The entrance to them was by a long 
 narrow subterranean passage, which had been accidentally 
 discovered only a few years before. When the visitor had 
 passed through this, he found himself in a spacious and lofty 
 chamber, imperfectly lighted by a few fissures in the rock 
 above. The walls were, for the most part, as smooth and 
 upright as though they had been the work of human art, 
 while the roof above presented a rude arch, which also gave 
 the idea that it had been carved by human hands. It was be- 
 lieved by some that the caves had been either altogether 
 hollowed out by the monks, who from very early times, until 
 the beginning of the sixteenth century, occupied the Abbey 
 of St Witherne ; or at all events had been enlarged by them 
 to their present dimensions. This latter theory, at all events, 
 had probably some truth in it. The remains of a subterranean 
 passage might clearly enough be traced from the convent 
 cellars to the rocks immediately adjoining the entrance 
 to the caves. In the days when the English coast was
 
 296 Who did it ? 
 
 liable to be continually visited by the Danish Pirates, who 
 shewed no more respect for friars and nuns than for the other 
 inhabitants of the land, such places of retreat were common 
 enough. 
 
 " Ay, ay," said the Captain, when this theory was pro- 
 pounded to them by their little lame guide ; " that's likely 
 enough, my lass. I daresay there was a beacon always kept 
 ready on the top of Hanger's Cave out yonder ; and when the 
 Danish galleys came in sight, the good fathers would pack up 
 their valuables, and retreat into these caves, the entrance to 
 which was hidden, I'll be bound, cleverly enough." 
 
 " Wouldn't they soon be starved out, sir ? " suggested Wright. 
 " There doesn't seem to be any way out of the caves but that 
 by which we entered. The Danes would have them here like 
 rats in a trap." 
 
 " So they would, Wright, if they'd had patience to wait. But 
 the Danes were too restless for that. They'd torture, and 
 kill, and sack all they could find. But when they'd done that, 
 they'd want to be off again to torture, and kill, and plunder 
 somewhere else. The monks would come back and find their 
 convent wrecked most likely, and such of their neighbours as 
 hadn't been able to escape, murdered or carried off. But 
 they'd be thankful to escape with a whole skin, and set to 
 work re-building the abbey as well as they were able." 
 
 "They must have been pleasant times to live in, sir," 
 observed Winburne. 
 
 " Ay, my lad," responded the Captain. " I haven't much 
 patience with the people who are not contented with old 
 England in the nineteenth century ; it would do them good to 
 make them live six months in any other period of the world's
 
 Witherne Caves. 297 
 
 history. I judge they would be thankful enough at the end 
 of that time to get back to the nineteenth century again." 
 
 It took fully an hour to explore the various windings in the 
 rock, where they sought in vain to discover any secret mode of 
 egress. The Captain was at last obliged to remind them that 
 their dinner was waiting at the farm-house, and that Mrs 
 Barnard's cookery might suffer if they kept it waiting. They 
 adjourned thither accordingly, and for the next hour enjoyed 
 themselves fully as much as they had done during the previous 
 one. The Captain sat at the head of the table, watching with 
 much satisfaction the disappearance of the dainties which he 
 had provided. So far, at all events, his party had been a 
 decided success. 
 
 The dinner was over, however, at last. Not even a school- 
 boy out on a party of pleasure can eat for ever. The after- 
 noon was wearing on, and the short winter's day must before 
 long come to a conclusion. Moreover, the Captain, as he 
 stepped to the window with a sailor's instinct, once more to 
 examine the state of the sky, saw only too plainly that the 
 change he had predicted had already taken place, and that a 
 storm would probably break out before the hour had passed. 
 
 " We must make as short an examination of the ruins as we 
 can," he said. " There may be a heavy downfall of rain in 
 an hour, or even half-an-hour's time. Barnard, will you see 
 the hampers packed and put on the top of the fly. The driver 
 must have it round at your door in an hour at furthest. Here, 
 Susie, my dear," he continued, addressing the little lame girl. 
 " Come with us and shew us the way. Why, you get along 
 pretty briskly, little maid," he added, noticing how deftly she 
 handled her little crutch.
 
 298 Who did it f 
 
 " Yes, sir," she answered ; " I get on well enough. Brother 
 Hugh is a deal worse than I am." 
 
 " Brother Hugh ? " repeated Captain Gurdon. " Is he lame 
 as well as you ? " 
 
 " He is now," she answered ; " but he has been so only 
 since August last. He had a fall and hurt himself, and he 
 can't get out of bed, but doctor says he'll get well in time, 
 though I shall never be better." 
 
 " And where do you live, Susan ? " 
 
 " Oh, close by," she answered. " You can't see the house. 
 It's just round the turn of that rock." 
 
 " Well, here are the ruins, boys," said the Captain. " Many 
 people think them more interesting even than the caves. 
 Look how thick the walls are, and how rudely, yet how 
 strongly, the stones are put together. These were built in very 
 ancient times." 
 
 "Before William the Conqueror, I suppose, sir?" asked 
 Warner. 
 
 " Yes, my lad, many hundred years before him most pro- 
 bably. It is said, I am told, that it is one of the oldest ruins 
 in England. If we had time we might trace out the whole 
 of the plan of the ground floor, I believe the entrance gates, 
 and the porter's lodge, and the chapel, and the refectory 
 that is the eating-room, you know. But we shan't be able to 
 do that for the rain, I am afraid. Yes, it's beginning now, 
 and it's going to be very heavy too. We shall be wet through 
 before we can reach the farm-house, I'm afraid. Is there no 
 place where we can take shelter here, Susie ? " 
 
 "Better come to our house, sir," said Susan. "'Taint 
 thirty yards off."
 
 Witherne Caves. 299 
 
 " Oh ay, to be sure, I'd forgotten your house. Shew us 
 the way my good girl ; come along lads." Susan led the way, 
 and in two or three minutes the party were safely housed in a 
 small cottage nestling under the high cliff, that at once 
 sheltered and hid it from sight. A decent looking woman, 
 who was busy washing, appeared somewhat surprised at the 
 entrance of so many visitors. 
 
 " Ask your pardon, ma'am," said the Captain politely. 
 " We've been caught in the rain, which I fancy will come down 
 pretty heavily. Will you be so kind as to give us shelter till 
 it's over?" 
 
 Mrs Gray, as the woman was called, bustled about and 
 placed chairs for her visitors. " Quite welcome, sir, I'm sure," 
 she said. " Yes, it's going to rain heavy, but it won't last, I 
 judge. Susie, you'd better go to your brother ; he's been 
 fretting after you." 
 
 The Captain took a chair. " A nice little girl, your 
 daughter," he said. " I'm sorry to think she's so afflicted." 
 
 " She don't seem to mind it, sir," said Mrs Gray. " She 
 was born so, you see, and has never known anything else. 
 And she don't suffer no pain. It's different with my Hugh. 
 He's getting better, and the doctor tells me that in time he'll 
 have the use of his legs again. But it's hard for a boy of his 
 age to lie there day after day and not be able to move, let 
 alone the pain." 
 
 " How did it happen, ma'am ? " enquired the Captain. 
 
 " Well, sir, it were a fall off a ladder more than three months 
 ago. Yes, it was last Saturday sixteen weeks the nineteenth 
 of August I remember it well" 
 
 " Saturday, the nineteenth of August," repeated the Cap-
 
 300 Who did it ? 
 
 tain. "Ay, I remember that day too. But how did it 
 happen ? " 
 
 " Well, sir, I don't know all the rights of it myself. You 
 see Hugh went into Walescliff 'twasn't on the Saturday he 
 went in, but on the Friday, and he was coming back again by 
 the road when he meets a young gentleman a tall strong 
 young gentleman, who asked him if he wanted to earn a half- 
 crown. My boy had never had so much money in his life, 
 and, to be sure, he said he did. ' What was he to do for it ? ' 
 ' You must go down to the inn where the London coach 
 stops,' said the young gentleman. ' It won't come in till three 
 or four o'clock or so in the morning, but you must wait till 
 then. Then you ask for a parcel directed to Mr Graves.' " 
 
 " Graves ! " exclaimed Winburne, starting with surprise. 
 
 " Be quiet, Winburne," said the Captain. " Please to go on 
 ma'am." 
 
 " For Mr Graves of Holmwood Priory," repeated the 
 woman. " I know that's right, because Hugh made him write 
 it down on a piece of paper, and he'd got it in his pocket when 
 he was brought home. Well, sir, Hugh went back into Wales- 
 cliff and waited in the inn yard till the coach came in. Then 
 he asked for the parcel, which was given him." 
 
 " Do you remember if you heard what the parcel was like ? " 
 asked Captain Gurdon. 
 
 " It was a small wooden box," said Mrs Gray, " not above 
 two inches deep. Hugh said it was heavyish ; but he could 
 carry it easy enough. Well, he got to the house, but he 
 couldn't get in. There's a great high wall all round it, he 
 says." 
 
 " Yes, I know," said the Captain. " Go on."
 
 WitJterne Caves. 301 
 
 " Hugh didn't know what to do ; but presently he heard the 
 gentleman calling to him through the key-hole of the door, 
 ' Have you got them ? ' says he. Hugh told him that he had. 
 ' Then,' says the gentleman, ' if you look about you, down by 
 the barn yonder, you'll see a ladder, and you must fetch it 
 and put it against the wall here, and mount up by it.' Well, 
 Hugh found it. It was as much as he could do to carry it, 
 and he fixed it, and got up to the top of the wall with it. 
 But then he found he'd left the case behind. The gentleman 
 gave him a deal of bad language, he said, and told him to 
 go down and fetch it But Hugh had got frightened. He 
 was always a meek boy, and he came back presently, and said 
 he couldn't find it And then Mr Graves that's his name 
 told him to put the ladder down to him, and he'd go and look. 
 ' Do you stay here on the top of the wall,' he says, ' and call 
 out to me if you see any one at the windows, or hear any 
 noise.' My boy does as he's told, and Mr Graves goes and 
 presently comes back with the case. ' You had left it under 
 the barn wall,' he said, 'where you took the ladder from,' 
 Then he mounts up, and pays Hugh the money I won't say 
 but what he paid fair enough and tells him to be off. But 
 he didn't hold the ladder for him, and Hugh was that fright- 
 ened that he'd no sooner put his foot upon it, than he and 
 the ladder came to the ground together. Mr Graves, he lets 
 himself down from the wall and picks Hugh up, and carries 
 him into the barn, and lays him on a heap of straw. ' Lie 
 here,' he says, ' quietly a bit, and then you'll be able to walk 
 again.' Well, Hugh says he don't know rightly what hap- 
 pened after that He lay half stupid ; but he thinks he heard 
 a lot of voices near him, and he's sure there was a dog bark- 
 ing and a pistol fired."
 
 302 Who did it ? 
 
 The Captain looked round and held up his hand, as a 
 caution to the boys to be silent. 
 
 " Finish your story, if you please, ma'am," he said. " How 
 did your son get home ? " 
 
 "He came home in a carrier's cart, sir. You see there 
 is a carrier goes to and fro between Haverport and Wales- 
 cliff during the summer months. He goes into Walescliff on 
 the Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays, and goes back to 
 Haverport on the Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Saturdays. He 
 starts pretty early in the morning, and he got to Holmwood 
 (as I am told they call the place) not very long after daybreak 
 on that Saturday morning, so he told me." 
 
 " Go on, Mrs Gray, if you please," said Captain Gurdon, as 
 she paused for a moment. 
 
 " Well, when he got nigh the house, he sees the doors of the 
 great barn open, and our Hugh lying in a faint, and Mr 
 Graves standing over him. He asks what's the matter, and 
 the young gentleman tells him that our Hugh had had a 
 tumble from a wall ; but he thought he was more frightened 
 than hurt. ' I don't know what to do with him,' he says, ' and 
 I can't send him home, because I don't know who he is nor 
 yet where he lives.' ' I know, though,' said the carrier. 
 ' It is Hugh Gray, son of Thomas Gray, of Trawler's Gate, 
 out Horn combe way.' ' Do you know his father's cot- 
 tage?' says the gentleman. 'I know quite well,' says the 
 carrier. ' I go within a hundred yards of it.' ' Oh, you 
 do ! ' says Mr Graves. ' Then perhaps you'll take him 
 home, and I'll give you half-a-crown for the job. The 
 sooner he's gone the better,' says he. ' There's a brute 
 of a dog up at the house here, which some one, I find, has
 
 WitJierne Caves. 303 
 
 been and let loose. If he gets out here, and he's as likely to 
 do it as not as soon as the gate's opened, he'd very probably 
 see this boy and grab hold of him. He'd best not gab me, 
 though,' he says. ' He did it once, and I let him off; but if he 
 does it again, he'll wish he hadn't.' " 
 
 " You are sure he said that, are you, Mrs Gray ? " 
 
 " Well, sir, I didn't hear him, to be sure ; but that's what 
 the carrier told me he said." 
 
 " Of course that is what I mean," returned the old Captain. 
 " Please to go on, ma'am." 
 
 " Well, sir, he agreed to take the lad, and they lifts him 
 into the cart between them. Then Mr Graves puts the ladder 
 against the wall of the house and mounts up, and calls to the 
 carrier to put the ladder into the barn, and then come for his 
 half-crown. Well, he does, and Mr Graves gives him the half- 
 crown, and then the man drives off and brings my boy home. 
 We put him to bed, and there he has been ever since." 
 
 " But you said, Mrs Gray, that your boy heard a dog bark- 
 ing and a pistol fired. When did that happen ? " 
 
 " Hugh don't seem to know rightly when it was. He was 
 in a sort of dwam after his fall until he got home. Everything 
 was confused like. Only he's sure about the dog and the 
 shot. But you'd best go in and speak to him yourself, sir. 
 Hugh's quite right in his head, though his leg is still bad." 
 
 " I should be very glad to do so, if you will kindly allow 
 it," said the Captain, " Boys, stay here till I come back, and 
 be so good as to say nothing further to Mrs Gray on this sub- 
 ject" 
 
 The boys promised, though with somewhat rueful faces, and 
 the Captain disappeared, ascending the steep cottage staircase.
 
 304 Who did it ? 
 
 He was absent about a quarter of an hour, and then returned, 
 radiant with triumph. 
 
 " All right, my lads," he exclaimed ; " the matter now, at 
 all events, is as clear as the day. You must still keep what 
 you've heard to yourselves for a few hours more ; but some 
 time to-morrow everything shall be cleared up. Mrs Gray, 
 will you give me the name and address of the carrier ? " 
 
 " His name is Andrew Giles, sir, and he lives in King's 
 Row, Haverport. I don't rightly remember the number," 
 
 " Never mind that ; I shall find him out. I shall come to- 
 morrow with a gentleman to take down your son's deposition. 
 He is quite willing to make it, he says. We shall be here 
 tolerably early."
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 THE GIPSY'S HOLLOW 
 
 BURTON and Cressingham, as the reader has already been 
 informed, had to pass the morning of the headmaster's birth- 
 day at home. Cressingham had been very unwell on the 
 previous day, and had not felt it safe to accept Squire Wol- 
 ford's invitation. His head was a good deal better on the 
 morning of the hunt breakfast, and he might have asked for 
 leave to withdraw his refusal, if Temple had not done the same 
 thing only a few minutes before. The Doctor had expressed 
 both surprise and annoyance in his reply, and Cressingham 
 saw plainly that a second petition of the same kind, if it was 
 not peremptorily refused, would be very reluctantly granted. 
 And after all, as Burton was not going, and Graves and Rawes 
 to whom he bore a very decided dislike were, he did not 
 very much regret his exclusion. He might have gone with 
 the juniors, who, under the escort of Mr Wilkes and Mr 
 M'Donald, were to make an excursion and dine at the inn 
 in Spenewood. But there was no one nearly of his own age 
 among the boys who composed the party, and the society of 
 the two ushers was not very attractive. He preferred that of 
 Burton, who, for some unknown reason, had asked leave to 
 
 u
 
 306 Who did it ? 
 
 remain at the Priory in preference to attending the hunt break- 
 fast. 
 
 " You don't care for the sport or the breakfast either, hey, 
 Burton ? " said the headmaster, when his senior scholar had 
 made his request. 
 
 " No, sir," answered Burton. " I can't say I have any great 
 fancy for either the one or the other." 
 
 " And you are not one of Captain Gurdon's party either, I 
 see?" pursued the headmaster, glancing at the lists which Mr 
 Wilkes had delivered to him. 
 
 "No, sir," answered Burton; "he has not invited me." 
 
 " I am afraid you would find the excursion to the inn in 
 Spenewood rather dull work. If it was summer, and the 
 leaves were out, and the flowers in the lanes, it would be a 
 different thing." 
 
 " I don't wish to go to Spenewood, sir." 
 
 " Stay at home and keep Cressingham company, eh ? He 
 is obliged to stay behind. That would be a kind act, Burton; 
 and he's an old friend of yours. Yes, I will allow you to do 
 that." 
 
 Burton was apparently about to disclaim the motive attri- 
 buted to him, but after a moment's thought, changed his 
 intention and remained silent. 
 
 "Very well, Burton," the Doctor said. "It shall be so 
 arranged. You and Cressingham will remain behind. There 
 will be no one left in the house but you two and Mrs Skinner, 
 and you will get nothing but cold meat for dinner, but you 
 mustn't mind that." 
 
 Burton bowed and withdrew. The two senior boys saw 
 their schoolfellows set out in various directions, and were 
 presently left alone before the schoolroom fire.
 
 The Gipsy's Hollow. 307 
 
 "What'll you do, Clem?" asked Cressingham, presently. 
 " Will you play a game of chess or dominoes, or hear that jolly 
 book that Herbert has lent me ? Shall I read aloud for both 
 our benefits?" 
 
 " No, Fred," said Burton, " not just now, if you please. 
 By-and-bye, I daresay, but not now." 
 
 " You were wanting to see my book of autographs, Clem," 
 said Cressingham. "I had not fastened them all in when 
 you spoke to me about it, but they're all right now. Shall I 
 go upstairs and fetch it?" 
 
 " No, thank you, Fred. I I don't feel in the humour for 
 it just now." 
 
 Cressingham shrugged his shoulders, and taking out his 
 blotting-book, began to write a letter, while Burton seated 
 himself in the window, and sat looking out into the court-yard. 
 It was not a very interesting view, consisting of nothing in 
 fact but the high walls surrounding the premises, and the iron 
 gate, which Mrs Skinner, apprehensive of thieves, had taken 
 care to lock. 
 
 An hour and more passed thus. Cressingham finished his 
 letters and put away his writing case, remarking at the same 
 time, that it was a good job got over, though he supposed 
 they could not go till the next day. 
 
 Burton started, as he heard the remark. " Not go ? Why 
 not? Fred," he asked. "The postman always takes the 
 letters back." 
 
 " Yes, but he won't come to-day, you know." 
 
 "The postman not come," repeated Burton in dismay. 
 "Why not?" 
 
 " Oh, didn't you hear ? It was arranged that Cobbe should 
 call as he went by, and take any letters there might be. Four-
 
 308 Who did it ? 
 
 fifths of the fellows, you know, belong to the Speneleigh party, 
 and nearly all the masters, and there could be no letters to 
 take back. So it was agreed that that would be the best 
 way." 
 
 " I don't see that," said Burton, evidently annoyed. " What 
 is to become of your letters then and mine ? Cobbe wouldn't 
 take them, I suppose." 
 
 " No, of course not," rejoined Cressingham. " Nor would 
 he take those of the fellows who have gone to Darlaston or to 
 Trawler's Gate. They'll all come up to-morrow morning. I 
 don't suppose there will be anything but what can wait till 
 then." 
 
 Burton made no answer. He got up, sauntered about a 
 little, then muttering something about fresh air, he went out 
 into the play-ground. 
 
 Cressingham looked after him with some surprise, and 
 seemed for the moment half inclined to follow him. But if 
 so, he changed his mind, and taking out a book began read- 
 ing. 
 
 He saw no more of his friend again till dinner-time, and 
 then he appeared even more depressed than before. In reply 
 to Cressingham's inquiry as to where he had been, he answered, 
 nowhere in particular, and then suddenly changed the subject 
 to some remarks about the fun the fellows would have at 
 Darlaston. But this topic soon languished and another silence 
 succeeded. Cressingham made no further attempt to over- 
 come his companion's reserve. After dinner, Burton sat 
 down to write a letter, which apparently cost him a good deal 
 of trouble. He folded, sealed, and directed it, and then once 
 more sauntering into the play-ground was seen no more.
 
 TJie Gipsy's Hollow. 309 
 
 About four o'clock, the boys from Darlaston returned, and 
 in another hour or so the main body from Speneleigh arrived, 
 and the schoolroom once more resounded with a chorus of 
 eager voices. The juniors had had great fun at Speneleigh. 
 The old pony had run away with the cart which Tom Cobbe 
 was driving, and very nearly upset the concern, dishes, plates, 
 glasses, and all, into a ditch. In fact, Tom had only averted 
 the catastrophe by running Billy's head into a large thorn bush 
 which grew on one side of the lane. Tom had declared that 
 old Billy, who in general was as steady as Father Time him- 
 self, had been instigated to this act of insubordination by a 
 bunch of prickly gorse, which some of the juniors had stuck 
 under his tail, while their companions distracted Tom's atten- 
 tion on the other side. But as Tom had escaped without 
 personal damage, and with only the loss of one mug, which 
 had been shaken off on the occasion of Billy's first plunge, 
 and he was perfectly aware that he would get nothing but 
 additional aggravation by attempting to bring home the 
 offence to any of the boys, he was wise enough to drop it. 
 Mr Wilkes had taken his seat at dinner in the midst of a 
 colony of red ants, from which he had considerable ado to rid 
 himself, and the three-legged stool on which Mr M'Donald 
 had located himself having broken down, the usher had 
 rolled ignominiously in the dust A complaint, too, had been 
 brought to Mr Wilkes by the landlord of the " Royal Oak" 
 that his pigs had been let out into the wood, and one of his 
 horses, or rather two of them, had been made to perform a 
 kind of extempore steeplechase over a series of hedges and 
 ditches which bordered on the forest. But no one knew who 
 had been the offenders the boys apparently, least of all, and
 
 310 Who did it? 
 
 as all the animals had been recovered and apparently had 
 sustained no injury, no notice was taken. 
 
 The mirth of the Darlaston party was fully equal to that of 
 their younger school-fellows. Graves, O'Toole, and Taunton, 
 who had been permitted to accompany the hunt for a mile or 
 two, had of course their tales to tell of the leaps they had 
 taken, and the spills they had witnessed, and the like. But 
 the great incident of the day had been O'Toole's adventure 
 with the whipper-in. 
 
 "Tell us about it, Maurice," said Taunton. "I heard 
 some of it, but not all. What made you take Jack Raggett's 
 horse? I know him well. He has been in our service a 
 year. He is about the crustiest chap going. How came you 
 on his horse ? " 
 
 " How came I on his horse," repeated O'Toole. " Why 
 wouldn't I be on his horse, when I thought he'd lent it to 
 me?" 
 
 "But what made you suppose that, Paddy?" rejoined 
 Taunton. 
 
 " What else would I suppose ? " inquired O'Toole. " Didn't 
 he say to me, ' Will ye take my horse, sir, for a minute or 
 two ? ' And sure I didn't mean to keep it for more than a 
 minute or two, but by all the powers I forgot the time ! " 
 
 " I heard what passed," said Hill laughing. " Mr Wolford 
 had called to Jack Raggett that he wanted to speak to him. 
 He wasn't above forty or fifty yards from him. But there was 
 a sunk fence and a lot of marshy ground between them. 
 Raggett didn't want to leap his horse into the swamp, and he 
 would have had a very long way to go if he had ridden round. 
 So he asked Maurice ' to hold his horse for a minute or two/
 
 ' ]\CK RAGGETT RAN BA.CK. HALLOOING TO O'TOOLE." 
 
 Page 310.
 
 The Gipsy's Hollow. 311 
 
 meaning while he got over the fence and spoke with the 
 Squire. But before Jack had gone half a dozen yards, 
 Maurice was in the saddle ; and in another minute the fox 
 had been found, and the whole field was off after him, Maurice 
 among them. Jack Raggett ran back hallooing to O'Toole to 
 pull up, and garnishing his speech with a string of oaths, but 
 Maurice wouldn't stop." 
 
 " How could I stop, and the brute pulling like a wild ele- 
 phant?" interposed O'Toole. "Sure, I promised to hold 
 him, and so I would have done, but I might as well have tried 
 to hold a flash of lightning ! " 
 
 "What happened next?" asked Cressingham, who was 
 listening, much amused, to what was passing. 
 
 " Oh, we all went on together across half a dozen fields, 
 till we came to a check just at the brook. Maurice had sat 
 his horse over a fence or two " 
 
 " Over three fences, my boy, a five-barred gate and a double 
 post and rail," shouted O'Toole. " By the same token the 
 last was a rasper. Didn't the baste come down upon his 
 nose over it, and didn't I lift him up again as neat as a nine- 
 pin, and none the worse, forbye his mouth full of mud ? " 
 
 " I don't know about that, Maurice," said Taunton. 
 " Jack Raggett didn't compliment you much on your riding, 
 when he came up ! " 
 
 " The big bla-guard," cried O'Toole. " It was he didn't 
 know how to thank a gentleman for taking care of his horse ! 
 But the Squire cut him short, and spoke up like a gentleman, 
 as he is. ' Mr O'Toole,' says he, ' Ye ride like an Irishman,' 
 and to be sure, there couldn't be a bigger compliment than 
 that ! "
 
 312 Who did it? 
 
 There was a general laugh. " Why, Maurice," said Payne, 
 " that was exactly what Jack Raggett said, only Mr Wolford 
 didn't hear him. 'Who is he?' he calls out to us, as he 
 saw you gallop off on his horse. ' Who is he ? Is he one of 
 your party, gentlemen ? ' I called out to him that ' it was Mr 
 Maurice O'Toole, a native of Tipperary, in Ireland, and a 
 pupil of Dr Thornton's.' 'An Irishman is he?' cries he. 
 ' I should have guessed as much from the manner in which 
 he rides!'" 
 
 " The villain ! " shouted the indignant Hibernian. " If ever 
 I come across him again, I'll lay a thick stick across his 
 shoulders for his impudence." 
 
 " Impudence ! " repeated Taunton. " Why, you said just 
 now that there couldn't be a greater compliment than to say 
 you rode like an Irishman ! " 
 
 " Did I ? " said O'Toole. " Well, maybe I did. But you 
 see, Squire Wolford meant one thing by it and Raggett, the 
 negur, meant another, and that makes all the difference. It's 
 like Tim O'Grady's two friends " 
 
 " Who's Tim O'Grady ? " asked Dilke. 
 
 " He's a Tipperary boy," said O'Toole ; " and he was going 
 home from Ballycooney Market, when he meets Phil M'Carthy, 
 a decent lad as ye'd meet any day. ' What is it, Phil ? ' asks 
 O'Grady. ' Sure, I am going up to Mr Gwynne's,' says he, 
 ' to ask him to let me have the lease of the farm that's just 
 fallen vacant.' ' I wish ye may get it, Phil,' says O'Grady. 
 ' Thank ye kindly,' says M'Carthy, and walks on. Presently 
 Tim meets Pat O'Leary, the biggest scoundrel on this side of 
 Galteemore, and as ugly as a scarecrow besides. ' How goes 
 it, Pat?' asks O'Grady. 'Sure I'm going up to Kathleen
 
 The Gipsy's Hollow. 313 
 
 O'Connor ' who was the darling of the world for beauty ' sure 
 I'm going up to Kathleen, to ask her to take me for her 
 sweetheart ! ' 'I wish ye may get it, Pat,' says O'Grady. 
 ' Ye villain,' says O'Leary, ' what do ye mean by that ? ' and 
 pulls off his coat and wants to fight him. So ye see, it's 
 what a man manes, and not what he says, that makes the 
 difference." 
 
 " I see, Maurice ; but how do you know that the Squire did 
 mean a compliment after all ? " asked Rawes. 
 
 "How do I know it?" exclaimed O'Toole. "Why, by 
 what he said, Dick Rawes. 'I am afraid we must send 
 you back, Mr O'Toole,' he says, ' or the Doctor won't be 
 pleased with us. But it's proud of your company that I am.' 
 More by token, the whipper-in never said a word after that." 
 
 " Not a word that you heard, Maurice," observed Taunton. 
 " But I won't answer for what he may have said, when the 
 Squire was out of hearing. But never mind. It was capital 
 fun while it lasted. The only pity is that old Hepburn 
 wasn't a hundred miles off." 
 
 " At this moment Wright and his three companions entered 
 the room, and repaired at once to Temple's study. But he 
 was not to be found, and they were informed by one of .the 
 juniors that he had gone upstairs soon after his return from 
 Darlaston, and had not been seen since. 
 
 " I suppose he has got leave to sit in his bedroom," said 
 Winburne. " He has taken to doing that of late when there 
 is a great row down below. Well, I suppose, when the Hawley 
 prize is settled, as it will be now in a couple of days or so, 
 Charlie will give us some more of his society." 
 
 "He is right to keep at it just now," observed Warner.
 
 314 Who did ill 
 
 " Graves has been writing one of his tip-top essays, for which 
 his set expect that the Doctor will give him marks enough to 
 send him up to the top of the list ; and Charlie's been 
 working tremendously over some Greek verses from one of 
 Shakespeare's plays, which he hopes will keep him above 
 Graves. This is just the rush, you see, between the dis- 
 tance post and the judge's stand. If Graves doesn't pass him 
 now, he won't at all." 
 
 " Graves will never pass him, that is certain," remarked 
 Wright. " The Captain will shut him up for good and all 
 to-morrow. He has written off about this fellow Giles, the 
 carrier at Haverport, you know. He has written off to him 
 already. While they were getting down the luggage from the 
 fly, he went into his parlour and wrote a note to some fellow, 
 a lawyer, I believe, in Haverport telling him he means 
 to call upon him the first thing in the morning, and that he 
 is meanwhile this evening, I suppose to make an appoint- 
 ment with Giles ; and he has ordered the fly to be at his 
 house at seven to-morrow." 
 
 " Phew ! " exclaimed Winburne, " the old fellow is in a 
 hurry, indeed. I shouldn't have thought there was any need 
 for all that hurry either." 
 
 " Well, it isn't his impatience altogether," said Wright. 
 " He never likes waiting, that is certain. But, you see, he is 
 afraid, if the story gets about, that Graves will hear of it, and 
 contrive some means of getting out of it. He means to take 
 him quite by surprise." 
 
 " That he will do, I expect," said Warner. " He will take 
 everyone by surprise, I should think, except us four." 
 
 At this moment the supper bell rang, and the boys betook
 
 The Gipsy's Hollow. 315 
 
 themselves to the dining-hall, fully prepared, notwithstanding 
 the liberal feasting of the forenoon, to do justice to the cheer 
 provided for them. They retired to bed, however, imme- 
 diately after. 
 
 A little more than half an hour afterwards the door of the 
 schoolroom was cautiously opened, and some one entered. 
 It was almost pitch dark, the only light being what came 
 in through the cracks of the window shutters from the wintry 
 sky outside. Whoever the person was, he was evidently well 
 acquainted with the locality, for he moved steadily on, feeling 
 his way by the forms and desks until he reached the middle 
 window. Then there came the sound of the unbarring of the 
 shutters, and then the pale gleam of the starlight. Presently 
 one of the upright bars which protected the window was 
 drawn out, the sash gently pushed up, and the figure crept 
 stealthily out, carefully closing the window behind him. 
 Almost immediately afterwards another dark form stole forth 
 from behind the headmaster's desk, where it had been hiding, 
 lifted the sash, and followed. 
 
 Though there was no moon, the night was cloudless, and 
 there was sufficient light to enable the second of the two 
 adventurers to see with tolerable clearness what was passing. 
 Stepping behind a buttress, Baines, the constable, watched the 
 figure of Charlie Temple, as he moved silently along under the 
 shadow of the building, until he entered one of the outhouses 
 in the wood-yard. The constable again withdrew from sight, 
 expecting to see the boy reappear with a ladder by which to 
 scale the wall But the door remained closed, and after a 
 time Baines pushed it open and entered. It was an old 
 disused wash-house apparently, with an empty cupboard in one
 
 316 Who did it? 
 
 corner. Somehow or other its occupant had disappeared. A 
 good deal puzzled, the constable proceeded closely, by the 
 help of his dark lantern, to search every nook and 
 corner, but there appeared to be no mode of exit. At 
 length he set himself to examine the bottom of the old 
 sink, which he tried to lift up. It came away easily enough, 
 and, being removed, disclosed a flight of stone steps winding 
 through the thickness of the wall. Descending these he 
 presently found himself pushing his way through a quantity of 
 brushwood, and at once emerged into an open drain lying 
 immediately under the walls of the Priory. Scrambling out as 
 well as he was able, he hurried along the path leading through 
 the wood till he reached a large tree known by the name of 
 " The Prior's Oak," under which tradition said that the Prior 
 of Holmwood, in ancient days, was wont to dispense justice. 
 
 Here he stopped, and struck three blows with his staff on 
 the trunk of the tree, when he was joined by a tall dark figure 
 which had been hiding under the roots on the other side. 
 
 " Is that you, Baines ? " said a low voice. 
 
 " Yes, it's me, sir. Have you seen Mr Temple go by ? " 
 
 " Some one passed two or three minutes ago. He was 
 muffled up, so that I could not make out who it was." 
 
 " Which way did he go, sir ? " 
 
 " Into the thicket yonder. He passed between those two 
 oaks and turned to the right." 
 
 " Come along, sir, as quick as you can. We've no time to 
 lose." 
 
 They hurried through the shrubbery, and in a few moments 
 reached the small open glade, which has already been described 
 as the " Gipsy's Hollow." Listening intently, they heard 
 voices at a short distance, and crept close up unnoticed.
 
 The Gipsy's Hollow. 317 
 
 " You are sure it's the right pistol ? " said some one. 
 
 "Yes," was the answer, "there can be no doubt about 
 that. I stopped a moment when I had got clear of the house 
 to examine it. I had only seen it once before ; but I can't 
 be mistaken. There's the old Indian work you were speaking 
 about, on the stock and barrel. And there are the letters M. 
 M. G. I'll light my lamp again for you to make sure yourself, 
 if you like." 
 
 "Well, you may as well. I don't suppose there can be 
 any mistake ; but it will be a comfort, to be sure." With some 
 difficulty the lamp was lighted, and the light, as it was turned 
 on the pistol, showed plainly the faces of Harry Wilder and 
 Charles Temple. 
 
 " It's all right," said the former. " You may put out the 
 light again. Well, I must say I'm extremely glad. It would 
 have been worse for you, Charlie, of course, than for me. 
 But I should have been extremely sorry if old M'Grath, who 
 is always very kind to me, had come home and asked 
 me for his pistols, which he had left in my charge, and I had 
 not been able to give them back to him." 
 
 " I can understand that, Harry. I knew it to be your feel- 
 ing. But for that I should not have made use of that secret 
 passage again. I am heartily sorry I ever made use of it at 
 all." 
 
 " Well, it is all right now, Charlie." 
 
 "Ah, no, Harry, it is not all right. It may be all right 
 about this pistol, but not about poor old Nep. I can't bring 
 him to life again. ] I have worked pretty hard for the last 
 three months to get this scholarship. But I would have toiled 
 like a galley slave, and glad, if I could [have brought that
 
 3i8 Who did it t 
 
 about. I mean to go to old Gurdon as soon as this prize has 
 been settled, and I hope he will forgive me. It will be a 
 great relief to have it out with him, at all events." 
 
 " Old Gurdon is a kind-hearted old fellow. You won't have 
 any difficulty with him," said Wilder. 
 
 "I hope not; but he is not the only one whose pardon I 
 ought to ask. The Doctor has been very kind to me ever 
 since I have been here. I feel every day that I have been 
 ungrateful. I ought never to have gone out by that passage. 
 I didn't think what I was doing, and that is the fact." 
 
 " Why don't you go at once and tell him about the pas- 
 sage ? " asked Harry. " Good fellow as he is, you might be 
 sure he wouldn't be hard upon you." 
 
 " I am not afraid of his being so," returned Temple. " But 
 see here, Harry, I promised Dick Plumridge three years ago, 
 when he told me about this passage, that I would never tell 
 anyone of its existence, as long as I remained at Holmwood. 
 It was a foolish promise, I grant you ; but as I made it, I 
 ought to keep to it." 
 
 " You are right there ; but you mean to tell him of it when 
 you leave, do you not ? " 
 
 " Yes, the moment I feel at liberty to do so." 
 
 " Well, Charlie, you have always spoken kindly of Thorn- 
 ton. It is of Hepburn only that you have complained." 
 
 " Hepburn ! Ay, he does not like me, that is certain. 
 But even there I have been to blame. He is stern and 
 severe, no doubt, but he is just and right-minded ; and I have 
 given him a great deal of provocation. A fellow feels 
 differently when he is just going away for good and all from 
 anywhere. I should like to make it up with him and have
 
 The Gipsy's Hollow. 319 
 
 his pardon too. But he has so strong a feeling against me, 
 that I am afraid it would be very little my attempting it. 
 Most likely he would mistake my motives. Well, good-night, 
 Harry. We had better not stay here any longer." 
 
 " Good-night, Charlie. I hope that the next thing I shall 
 hear is, that you have been appointed Hawley exhibitioner." 
 
 " Are you going to let Mr Wilder carry off the pistol, sir ? " 
 asked Baines in a subdued voice. He had been expecting 
 every moment to receive an order to interpose. "If we 
 don't make haste," he added, " it will be too late to stop him." 
 
 " Hush ! " returned the usher in the same guarded tones. 
 " I think it will be better not to interfere with young Mr 
 Wilder at all." 
 
 "Not interfere with him, sir? I don't see how we can 
 help interfering with him. Unless Mr Temple confesses 
 everything to-morrow, whicli is a great deal more than I 
 expect, we shall require Mr Harry Wilder's evidence. I 
 should have kept the pistol, if I had been you, sir. To be 
 sure, both you and I have seen it, and can swear to it, but 
 there would have been nothing like the pistol itself to make 
 everything sure." 
 
 " I suppose so," said Mr Hepburn, absently. " Baines, do 
 you think it necessary absolutely necessary that this business 
 should, after all, be gone into publicly ? " 
 
 "Necessary, sir? Gone into publicly?" repeated the 
 constable. " Why, to be sure, you wouldn't go to hush it up, 
 sir?" 
 
 "Hum," said Mr Hepburn. " I am not quite clear about that. 
 I don't see if Captain Gurdon was told about it, and Dr 
 Thornton, and they were both satisfied "
 
 320 Who did it ? 
 
 " Lord bless me, sir," ejaculated Baines, " you can't mean 
 it, to be sure ! When we've had all this trouble, and have 
 brought home the case so beautiful at last, you can't think of 
 letting it drop. Why, sir, what would the public say ? What 
 would the magistrates say? There's Colonel Wilder, sir, and 
 Mr Knyvett too. It would be as much as my situation was 
 worth ! And besides," he muttered half inaudibly, " there's 
 the reward offered, and there's that young jockey that led me 
 that dance about the gipsy's clothes. He wants taking down 
 a peg or two. I'll teach him to behave himself conformable 
 before I've done with him. No, sir, this must come before 
 the magistrates to-morrow." 
 
 " Very well, Baines, then you must bring it forward. I wish 
 you good-night." 
 
 The constable withdrew accordingly to his own house, and 
 Mr Hepburn slowly retraced his steps to the Priory. 
 
 " I have done that lad injustice," he reflected. " I wish I 
 had understood him better. But I am afraid, if Baines is 
 resolved to push this affair to the utmost, it may not be 
 possible to extricate him from the difficulty in which he has 
 involved himself."
 
 CHAPTER XXL 
 
 AYE, WHO INDEED ! 
 
 " WHERE is Burton ? " asked Dr Thornton, as the first class 
 went up on the following morning to say their Homer lesson. 
 
 " He's unwell, sir," said Cressingham. " He called me 
 into his room this morning as I was going by, and 
 told me that he wanted his name placed upon the sick list. 
 I don't think he was well all yesterday, and he said he'd lain 
 awake all night." 
 
 " I daresay this sudden change in the weather has affected 
 him," said the Doctor. " It was tolerably mild last night, 
 but the frost is pretty sharp this morning. He had better 
 stay in bed to-day, and we will send his dinner up to him. 
 Here are the marks for this week's compositions, boys. I 
 cannot forbear to remark on the excellence of Graves's essay 
 on the character of Alcibiades, and Temple's Greek transla- 
 tion from Timon of Athens. I have awarded fifteen marks 
 for each of the writers the highest amount, I believe, I have 
 given for any composition, for many years, at all events. 
 Burton's Latin prose too, and Cressingham's elegiacs are good. 
 The former has nine, and the latter eight marks for them. 
 Now, Temple, if you please, begin to construe." 
 
 x
 
 322 Who did it ? 
 
 The lesson began, and proceeded much as usual for about 
 an hour, when it was interrupted by the very unusual appear- 
 ance of the school servant at the door. The surprise caused 
 by Tom's appearance was increased by the look of stern 
 solemnity which overspread his features, which awakened 
 even the Doctor's curiosity. " Whatever is the matter, man ? " 
 he exclaimed. 
 
 " If you please, Dr Thornton," said Cobbe, in a sepulchral 
 voice, which might have announced the doom of all present 
 to immediate execution, " If you please, Dr Thornton, 
 Colonel Wilder and Mr Harry are in the study, and Baines, 
 the constable, is with them, and they desires to see you 
 immediate." 
 
 " See me immediately," said Dr Thornton. "We have just 
 done the lesson, or shall have done in ten minutes. Won't 
 that do?" 
 
 " From the demeanour of the parties," returned Tom 
 austerely, " I should fear that it would not. And that is not 
 all, sir. Captain Gurdon, who arrived, as I may say, pro- 
 miscuous with them, he's in the dining-room. He has two 
 persons with him, as come, I am told, from Haverport ; and 
 one of them, too," added Tom, rising to his climax, " one of 
 them, too, is a lawyer, and clerk to the magistrates." 
 
 The Doctor looked a good deal surprised, and still more 
 annoyed. " Is there to be no end of this ? " he muttered to 
 himself. " Mr Hepburn, do you know anything of this ? " 
 
 " I may guess something, sir," said the usher, " but I would 
 rather not interfere." 
 
 " You say they want to see me" said the headmaster ; "do 
 they wish to see me only, or others also?"
 
 Aye, who indeed ! 323 
 
 " From what they told me," returned Cobbe, " Baines 
 wishes to see all the young gentlemen, as he did last autumn." 
 
 " Very well," said the Doctor, " then it must be so. Boys, 
 shut your books and take your places at your bureaus. Cobbe, 
 show the party in here." 
 
 Tom departed, and presently returned, ushering in the six 
 visitors. Dr Thornton shook hands with Colonel Wilder, 
 Harry, and Captain Gurdon, and requested all to be seated. 
 Then he said, " I conclude you have come here with the in- 
 tention of preferring a charge against some one respecting 
 the subject which has been engaging our attention for the last 
 month or two something, in fact, has come to light. If so, 
 as a great deal has been said on the subject already, it would 
 be better if the charge was made at once against the person 
 supposed to be the guilty party." 
 
 Baines was about to speak, but Captain Gurdon pushed 
 before him. 
 
 " Quite right, Thornton," he said, " quite right. I charge, 
 then, yonder boy Stephen Graves his name is with having 
 killed my dog, Neptune, on the night of the i8th of August 
 last, and I have evidence here which will prove clearly that 
 he committed the offence." 
 
 The headmaster looked grave, but did not seem much sur- 
 prised. " You have/ra?/", Gurdon, you say? " 
 
 " Certainly, Thornton. I shouldn't make the charge, if I 
 hadn't" 
 
 " Very good," said the headmaster, " and you, I suppose, 
 Baines, have come for the purpose of corroborating Captain 
 Gurdon's evidence ? " 
 
 " I, sir ! " exclaimed the constable. " No, I haven't come
 
 324 W 'ho did it?- 
 
 for any such purpose as that. I've come here to charge a 
 different person altogether with it Mr Charles Temple. I 
 don't know what evidence Captain Gurdon may think he's 
 got, but he's mistook, whatever it may be. Mr Temple's the 
 one what did it, and he won't deny it, if you ask him " 
 
 " Nonsense, Baines," broke in Captain Gurdon indignantly. 
 " I know your dislike to that poor lad, and the efforts that 
 have been made to fix the offence on him." He glanced angrily 
 at Mr Hepburn as he spoke. " I am glad to see that he, at 
 all events, says nothing. He is satisfied, no doubt, that my 
 friend Charlie had nothing to do with it." 
 
 All eyes were turned upon Mr Hepburn, who answered 
 coldly, " You had better not appeal to me, Captain Gurdon, 
 I do not wish to say anything about this, and you'll not do 
 wisely to oblige me to speak." 
 
 " This will not do," said Dr Thornton. " If there's to be 
 an inquiry it cannot be made in this way. Captain Gurdon, 
 as you spoke first, you had better make your charge and give 
 your evidence. Of course, if that should prove, as you 
 declare it to be, conclusive, it will save all further trouble. If 
 it should not, the case against Temple can be gone into. 
 Colonel Wilder and myself will hear both charges." 
 
 Captain Gurdon bowed. " I wish in the first place then to 
 state," he said, " that one day in August last, a week or more 
 before the dog was shot, there was a wager made between 
 Graves and Temple as to which was the best shot with a pistol, 
 and a day was fixed Saturday, the ipth of August, when this 
 match was to come off." 
 
 "Stop a minute," said the Doctor. "Before we go any 
 further, I should like to inquire whether that statement is
 
 Aye, who indeed ! 325 
 
 admitted to be correct or not. Graves, Temple, did you 
 agree to shoot such a match?" 
 
 He looked at the two boys. Graves made no answer, but 
 Temple said, " We did, sir." 
 
 " Go on, Captain Gurdon." 
 
 " Graves was anxious to win," rejoined the Captain, " and 
 in order to ensure doing so, he wrote home for a brace of 
 pistols, which he had reason to believe were unusually good. 
 In corroboration of this " 
 
 " There is no reason for corroborating that assertion, 
 Gurdon," said the headmaster, " I have proof of that. I sent 
 the pistols back to Mr Lumley, expressing my surprise and 
 regret that they should have been sent to Holmwood. He 
 informed me in reply that they had been despatched without 
 his knowledge on the iyth of August, by Graves's sister. You 
 may proceed." 
 
 "Well, sir," resumed the Captain, "the pistols did not 
 reach Walescliff till three or four o'clock on the morning of 
 the i gth. Graves had once or twice sent up to the office for 
 them. He had sent Cobbe, your servant, to the Anchor late 
 in the afternoon of the i8th. Here is Cobbe himself, he can 
 say whether that is correct or not. Did you go for the 
 pistol case, Cobbe?" 
 
 " Begging your pardon, Captain Gurdon," said Tom, loftily. 
 " I did not go to fetch no pistol case. I knows the duties of 
 the station to which I am called better than that. I went to 
 fetch a innocent box, which might contain paints, or sugar 
 plums, or any such like " 
 
 That will do, Cobbe," interposed the Doctor. " Captain 
 Gurdon did not mean to find fault with you."
 
 326 Who did it? 
 
 " Well, sir," rejoined the old officer, " you will observe that 
 the pistols did not arrive in any case before two or three 
 o'clock in the morning, yet, if you remember, they were found 
 in his possession in the forenoon of the next day. How did 
 he get them ? Let him explain if he can." 
 
 All present looked at Graves ; but he remained as before, 
 doggedly silent 
 
 "Do you mean to explain, Graves?" asked Doctor Thorn- 
 ton. 
 
 " I mean to say nothing," was the answer. 
 
 " Your demeanour is strange," said the headmaster ; " but 
 still, Captain Gurdon, this will not prove your point You 
 mean of course that Graves went out early on the morning of 
 the i gth; that the dog attacked him, and that he shot him 
 with the pistols he had just received?" 
 
 " Just so, Doctor," assented the Captain. 
 
 "But you have to prove two things," rejoined the head- 
 master. "First, that he went out that morning; secondly, 
 that while out he shot Neptune. You cannot assume either 
 fact" 
 
 " I don't mean to do so. I have here the deposition of 
 Hugh Gray, taken this morning by Mr John Smollett, solicitor's 
 clerk, here present, which with your favour I will read out. 
 It will determine one of the points to which you refer, if not 
 both." 
 
 Every eye was turned upon Graves as these words were 
 spoken. Even his iron nerve could not prevent his giving a 
 slight start as he heard Hugh Gray's name. 
 
 " Hugh Gray states," said Captain Gurdon, " that on the 
 afternoon of the i8th of August, he was engaged by a young
 
 Aye, who indeed ! 327 
 
 gentleman, whose name he has since ascertained to be Graves, 
 and who is a pupil at this school here, to go to the coach- 
 office at the Anchor at Walescliff, and ask for a small wooden 
 case which was to come by the night coach, that he did go to 
 the coach-office about half-past three o'clock in the morning, 
 he believes, and took the case up to the Priory, where Mr 
 Graves was waiting to receive it " 
 
 " Waiting," repeated Dr Thornton. " Where ?" 
 
 " He was inside the gate, looking through the small slit in 
 it. Mr Graves called him to fetch a ladder, which was stand- 
 ing against a barn hard by, because the box was too large to 
 be passed through the opening in the gate. Hugh did place 
 it, and mounted to the top of the wall and then helped Mr 
 Graves up " 
 
 " Helped Mr Graves up," again repeated the Doctor. 
 
 " Yes, sir. I can produce plenty of proof that though it is 
 impossible to clamber up the wall on the outside, it is not 
 difficult to do so on the inside with a little help." 
 
 " As soon as Mr Graves was on the top of the wall," re- 
 sumed Captain Gurdon, "he took the pistol case and paid 
 the money ; and Hugh began descending the ladder, but his 
 foot slipped and he fell off, hurting himself severely. He was 
 unable to rise, and Graves was obliged to descend the ladder 
 and help him. He says, he believes Graves carried him to 
 the barn and laid him on some straw ; but he was light-headed 
 and can remember nothing clearly till he found himself being 
 lifted into a carrier's cart, when he again relapsed into half- 
 consciousness ; but he distinctly remembers hearing soon 
 afterwards the angry barking of a dog, and a pistol shot which 
 followed. This deposition, sir, was taken down, verbatim, in
 
 328 Who did it? 
 
 my hearing. I should wish to ask whether the person whom 
 it inculpates Stephen Graves denies its accuracy." 
 
 "You hear. Graves," said Dr Thornton, "you will surely 
 give some answer to Captain Gurdon's appeal." 
 
 " I have already said I don't mean to say anything more," 
 returned Graves. 
 
 " I am sorry to hear it. I cannot disguise that your silence 
 must needs prejudice your case. Well, Captain Gurdon, have 
 you anything more to say." 
 
 " Only that I wish you would yourselves examine the carrier. 
 He will tell his own story." 
 
 " Very well. Mr Giles, what have you to tell us ?" 
 
 " Only, sir, that on the morning of the day, Captain Gurdon 
 speaks of, the igth of August 
 
 " How do you know that was the day?" 
 
 " It was a Saturday. I always drives my cart from Wales- 
 cliff to Haverport every Saturday during the summer months. 
 Saturday, August iQth, was the last day on which I made the 
 journey this year. I was very early that day, as I wanted to 
 get home. It wanted ten or twelve minutes to four when I 
 was passing under the wall of Dr Thornton's house. I heard 
 some one calling to me, and saw this young gentleman, whose 
 name you say is Graves. He told me that there was a lad 
 hurt by a fall, and that he believed he lived at Trawler's Gate. 
 1 Did I know the place?' 
 
 " I told him I knew the place and the lad too it was Hugh 
 Gray, and I should pass not above a hundred yards from his 
 father's cottage. ' Very well,' says he, ' then you'd better take 
 him home, and here's half-a-crown to pay his fare.' I agreed, 
 and we lifted the boy into the cart and laid him on some
 
 Aye, who indeed ! 329 
 
 sacks. Then he points out a ladder which was resting against 
 the wall of the house, and tells me it was to be put back into 
 the barn as soon as he'd got up. Then he gives me the half- 
 crown he paid me all fair, I must say that and mounts the 
 ladder, and stood on the top of the wall watching me while I 
 put the ladder back. That was the last I saw of him until 
 this morning." 
 
 "Have you any doubt that Mr Graves is the gentleman 
 you saw ? " asked Colonel Wilder, who had not spoken 
 before. 
 
 " No, Colonel, no doubt at all. I'd swear to him at 'sizes 
 if I was asked." 
 
 " Very well. Did you see or hear anything more connected 
 with this matter ? " 
 
 " About a minute or two after I had turned the corner of 
 the road beyond the house, I heard a big dog bark, and then 
 a shot fired." 
 
 " That was a minute or two after you had parted from Mr 
 Graves ? " 
 
 " Well, I parted with him when I moved the ladder, but 
 I saw him on the top of the wall as the cart started. It might 
 be two or three minutes after I lost sight of him before I heard 
 the shot" 
 
 " You have nothing more to add ? " asked Dr Thornton. 
 " Nothing more, sir." 
 
 " Graves," said the headmaster, "if you are still so unwise 
 as to refuse to speak, it cannot be helped. But it is my duty 
 to inquire whether you mean to put any questions to this 
 man. If you do not, I must assume that you allow his 
 evidence to be true."
 
 330 Who did it / 
 
 This time Graves made no response at all. 
 
 " Well, sir," said Captain Gurdon after a short pause, " I 
 presume you will now allow that the case is clear against 
 Graves." 
 
 " I should like to say a few words to my brother magistrate 
 before giving any opinion," answered Dr Thornton. 
 
 Colonel Wilder and the Doctor conferred apart for a few 
 minutes. Then the latter spoke again. 
 
 " Putting together all the evidence we have heard to-day, 
 together with that which was adduced on the former occasion, 
 Colonel Wilder and myself are of opinion that it amounts to 
 moral proof against Graves, though it may be that a jury would 
 hesitate to convict him. There is the fact that Neptune was 
 certainly loose in the courtyard at the time when Giles saw 
 him on the top of the wall just about to get down into it, and 
 just before the shot was fired : that the dog bore a notorious 
 dislike to Graves, and that Graves had expressed his inten- 
 tion of shooting him, if he ever attacked him : there is the 
 tear in Graves' trousers ; and lastly, Cobbe's statement that 
 he saw Graves pass the window, with a pistol open in his 
 hand, only a minute or two after the report was heard. This 
 appears to us very strong, if not absolutely conclusive evidence. 
 To this must be added the fact that Graves refused to explain 
 any of the suspicious circumstances, or to challenge in any way 
 the testimony of the witnesses. I consider what has been 
 brought forward quite sufficient to justify me in acting upon it, 
 and mean to do so. But before saying how I mean to deal 
 with Graves's case, I must hear Baines that is, unless what 
 has been now alleged induces him to withdraw his charge 
 against Temple. How is that, Baines ? "
 
 Aye, who indeed ! 331 
 
 " I don't consider that anything the Captain has stated 
 alters the case, sir. I say again, he's mistaken, and I can 
 prove it" 
 
 " Very well. Go on with your proof then." 
 
 " I wish to say in the first place," said the constable, " that 
 on the morning of the igth of August a search was made for 
 the pistol with which the dog had been shot, and it was be- 
 lieved that it couldn't be found. That was a mistake. The 
 pistol was picked up by Mr Hepburn in a patch of long grass, 
 very near the place where the body of the dog was found." 
 
 " It was ! " exclaimed Captain Gurdon. " Why has nothing 
 been said about it then ? " 
 
 " We had our reasons, Capting. The pistol found had been 
 lately discharged. I made inquiries in all directions, to find 
 out to whom it belonged. I asked Colonel Wilder among 
 others " 
 
 " Certainly you did," said the Colonel, " but I had no such 
 pistol, as you described, in my possession, and never had had 
 one." 
 
 " You hadn't, Colonel ; but your friend Colonel M'Grath 
 left a brace in Mr Harry's charge. They were rather old- 
 fashioned, though I daresay very good articles. They had a 
 lot of Indian carved work about the stocks and the letters M. 
 M'G. " 
 
 " I remember them perfectly," exclaimed Colonel Wilder. 
 " Did M'Grath leave them in your charge, Harry ? " 
 
 " Yes, sir," answered his son in a low tone. 
 
 " Well, Dr Thornton," pursued Baines. " The Capting has 
 said truly that there was a pistol match got up between the 
 young gentlemen, and I daresay Mr Graves wrote home for
 
 332 W/iodidit? 
 
 some pistols to shoot it with. But Mr Temple, he wanted a 
 pistol for the purpose too, and he borrowed his'n' of Mr 
 Harry, there." 
 
 " It was brought up late at night," resumed the constable ; 
 " late on Friday night. Mr Temple, he went out, after the 
 house was locked, to fetch it. The dog followed him out " 
 
 " Wait a little," interrupted Dr Thornton, "we are getting 
 on too fast by a good deal. First of all, Mr Harry Wilder, 
 did Temple borrow the pistol of you, and did you bring it up 
 to Holmwood late at night ? " 
 
 " I will spare Harry the pain of answering the question," 
 said Temple. " I did borrow the pistol. I only am to blame, 
 so far. Harry did not bring it up to the house at all. I left 
 it outside in the shrubbery when I came in just before supper. 
 I was afraid some one would see it if I brought it in with me. 
 I meant to go out and fetch it in afterwards." 
 
 " How could you do that," asked the headmaster, " after 
 the house had been locked up ? " 
 
 Temple made no answer. 
 
 . " Speak, Temple, I insist There is some strange mystery 
 here. If you want to be believed, keep nothing back. Will 
 you explain this ? " 
 
 " I would rather say no more, sir." 
 
 " That was, if I remember right, exactly your answer when 
 you were first questioned, and you denied all knowledge of 
 the death of the dog. But now " 
 
 " If you'd forgive me for interrupting you, sir," broke in 
 Baines, " I can explain the difficulty. There's a bar loose in 
 one of the school-room windows, by which Mr Temple got 
 out of the house he'll not deny that "
 
 Aye, who indeed ! 333 
 
 " In the school-room ? " exclaimed the Doctor ; " in the 
 hall they told me " 
 
 " Ah, that was a different matter, said the constable, " that 
 was an accident One of the stanchions had got rusty, and a 
 chance blow had knocked it out. The bar in the school is 
 different. The screws have been taken in and out of that a 
 good many times, I judge. Mr Temple, I say, won't deny 
 that " 
 
 Dr Thornton glanced at the boy named, and saw that 
 indeed he could not deny it. 
 
 "I am sorry for this," he said, "but still matters are not 
 explained now. The loose bar will account for Temple's hav- 
 ing been able to get out of the house, but not for his getting 
 out into the shrubbery, whither, however, he must have gone, 
 if he did shoot the blood-hound as you suppose." 
 
 ." I couldn't have explained that till last night, sir. But last 
 night I learned what, I'll wager, neither you nor any of your 
 ushers knows that there's a secret way out from one of the 
 old wash-houses in the servants' court, through the wall into 
 the shrubbery. I see Mr Temple go out that way with my 
 own eyes last night. That's the way he used to get out, I 
 s'pose, years back, when we couldn't make out how he managed 
 to pay his visits at night to the billiard-room that's the way 
 he went out on the night of the 1 8th of August last to fetch 
 the pistol in. The dog followed him didn't know him in 
 the dark, and flew at him. The young gentleman didn't want 
 to hurt the dog, I don't doubt. But he was flustered and 
 mayhap frightened, for that there brute wasn't a pleasant one 
 to fight with. Anyhow, Mr Temple ups with his pistol, and 
 shoots him through the heart that's my view of the job, 
 anyway."
 
 334 Who did it r { 
 
 " You've said nothing about the missing pair of trousers," 
 remarked the Doctor. 
 
 " No, sir, because I found there was nothing in that. I lit 
 on Mrs Meggots one day about six weeks ago. She said she 
 had lent the young gent the clothes, and had taken a pair of 
 his trousers as a security for them, as he had no money. But 
 Mr Temple never brought the clothes back, so she'd sold 
 them." 
 
 "Well, Dr Thornton," said Captain Gurdon, "I don't know 
 how you may take this, but for my part, I can't see that 
 Baines has made Out nearly such a good case against Temple 
 as I shewed you against Graves. Just look at the difference 
 betwixt the two ; Graves disliked my dog, and was heard to 
 threaten to shoot him only a day or two before this happened. 
 Temple was always very kind to him, and I won't believe he 
 would do anything to hurt him." 
 
 Temple looked up for the first time, and cast a glance of 
 gratitude at the Captain, who went on. 
 
 " Then the dog was as fond of Temple as he was of the dog. 
 The lad would never have hurt him, and he'd never have 
 attacked the lad. But Nep knew his enemies, as a dog 
 always does, and it's likely enough if he met Graves at that 
 hour in the morning, he'd fly at him, especially if Graves 
 spoke to him crossly, as I can prove he often did. Then, 
 again, about this getting out Baines says, there's a way of 
 getting out of the school-room, and another of getting through 
 some passage or other through the wall, and he can prove 
 that Temple got out that way on one occasion. But neither 
 he nor anyone else saw or can prove that Temple got out 
 that way on the night when Neptune was killed, or that he
 
 Aye, who indeed ! 335 
 
 got out at all that night. On the other hand, it's been proved 
 as clear as the day, that Graves was out, was seen out by 
 more than one person, just about the time the dog was shot. 
 Baines makes a good deal of Temple having borrowed the 
 pistol to shoot this match. I take it the two boys stand in 
 the same predicament so far as that's concerned. They both 
 got their pistols for the same purpose. But Graves's pistols, 
 it is said, hadn't been fired, and Temple's had. Well, it's 
 been shewn already, there was plenty of time between four 
 o'clock and ten for Graves to have cleaned his pistol, even if 
 he had fired it. But who knows that he didn't shoot the dog 
 after all with Temple's pistol. It had been left lying outside 
 most likely, left ready loaded, as boys are apt to leave their 
 pistols." 
 
 "Was the pistol you lent to Temple, loaded, Harry?" 
 asked Colonel Wilder of his son. 
 
 " Yes, sir, it was," said Harry. " I had brought it loaded, 
 because Temple wanted to try it before taking it up to Holm- 
 wood. But there wasn't time, and he took it away with him 
 almost immediately after we met." 
 
 " I thought as much," said the Captain. " Well, then, why 
 shouldn't Graves have seen the pistol lie upon the ground, 
 and when the dog attacked him, caught it up and shot him 
 with it? What do you say to that, Baines?" 
 
 " I say that you've taken no notice, sir, of the fact that Mr 
 Temple tried to get out of the house late that night, and that 
 he can't deny that he did go out that night" 
 
 " Captain Gurdon glanced at Temple. " I didn't hear that," 
 he said, " and I don't know it now. Can't you say that you 
 didn't go out that night, Charlie?" he asked
 
 336 Who did it? 
 
 Temple made no reply. 
 
 There was a pause, and then Colonel Wilder said, " I con- 
 clude we have now heard all. Thornton, will you step aside 
 with me somewhere for a few minutes. I should like to con- 
 sult with you before we come to any determination." 
 
 The two magistrates accordingly retired into the Doctor's 
 study, and were absent nearly half an hour. During this 
 interval, the boys kept their places and conversed together in 
 low tones. Graves leaned, hardy and defiant, with folded 
 arms against his bureau. Depressed and downcast, Temple 
 sat at his desk with his face buried in his hands. Cobbe took 
 the opportunity of moving up unnoticed to the place where 
 Cressingham was standing, and slipped a note into his hand. 
 
 " I promised to give you this, sir, on the first opportunity," 
 he whispered. 
 
 Cressingham took it mechanically, but he was too deeply 
 absorbed by what he had just been hearing to pay much heed 
 to it. Presently the door opened, the two magistrates re- 
 appeared and took their seats. All present leaned eagerly 
 forward to hear what they would say. 
 
 " Colonel Wilder and myself have considered this matter 
 most carefully," said the Doctor, " and we are agreed that it's 
 impossible to come to any decision on the information now 
 before us. It is a singular fact that the case against either 
 boy might be held conclusive, and probably would be held so 
 in any court of justice, if it were not for the case against the 
 other. We have no choice but to adjourn the inquiry. It is 
 possible that some evidence may be forthcoming which will 
 determine the matter. It is also possible I trust, I may add, 
 it is likely that the real offender will, on consideration, have
 
 Aye, ivho indeed! 337 
 
 the grace to confess his guilt, and relieve his school-fellow 
 from the undeserved opprobrium now attaching to him. 
 Temple and Graves must remain close prisoners in their 
 rooms for the next twenty-four hours, when Colonel Wilder 
 and myself will resume the inquiry. In the meanwhile, all 
 possible efforts will be made to obtain further evidence. Boys, 
 you had better go into the play-ground. Afternoon school 
 will be as usual." 
 
 The assembly slowly dispersed, the boys unusually silent 
 and thoughtful. Their elders were to the full as much per- 
 plexed. Even the veteran Colonel Wilder muttered to him- 
 self, as he left the house on his way homeward, " I never 
 knew such a puzzle as this ! I would give twenty pounds to 
 the fellow who would tell me, ' Who did it?'"
 
 CHAPTER XXII. 
 
 A STRANGE RESOLVE. 
 
 CRESSINGHAM walked out into the play-ground, as much wrapt 
 in thought as any of his companions. He had entirely for- 
 gotten the note put into his hand, and was only reminded of 
 it a quarter of an hour afterwards by Tom Cobbe ; who came 
 up to him as he was leaning against one corner of the play- 
 ground wall, and said, " I beg your pardon, Mr Cressingham, 
 but ain't there no answer to Mr Burton's note ? " 
 
 Cressingham started. " Mr Burton's note," he repeated ; 
 " oh, what you gave me in the school-room, I suppose ; I had 
 quite forgotten it." 
 
 He opened it as he spoke, and ran his eye hastily through 
 it. It contained an urgent request from his friend to go to 
 him immediately. 
 
 " Tell him I'll come at once," he said, " if I can get per- 
 mission." 
 
 He applied accordingly to Mr Wilkes, but received for 
 answer the information that Dr Thornton had gone out, but 
 had left strict orders that no one was to go up to the boys' 
 bed-rooms on any account during his absence. 
 
 " But that refers to Graves and Temple, sir, does it not ? '
 
 A Strange Resolve. 339 
 
 said Cressingham. " I don't want to see either of them. It 
 is Burton, sir. He is ill, and he has sent a message to say he 
 wants me to come to him." 
 
 " I'm afraid I can't help that, Cressingham," said the usher. 
 " It is very probable that you may be right, but the orders are 
 positive not to allow any one to go up to the bed-rooms at all. 
 But I daresay the Doctor won't be long. Meanwhile," he 
 added, good-naturedly, " I will go up to Burton myself, and if 
 he wants anything I can get him, or there's any message he 
 wants delivered to you, I can manage it." 
 
 Mr Wilkes did not return to the school-room before dinner 
 time, and the Doctors absence from home lasted until after- 
 noon school had begun, when he hurried in just in time to 
 take his class. At four o'clock, however, Mr Wilkes called up 
 Cressingham. 
 
 " I have seen Dr Thornton," he said, " and have got leave 
 for you to go up to Burton. It was well I caught him, for he's 
 going over immediately to Trawler's Gate. After that he's 
 engaged, he tells me, to dine at Lord Wandesborough's, where 
 he is to sleep. Probably he will not be back again before 
 morning school to-morrow." 
 
 " Thank you, sir," said Cressingham ; " then I may go up 
 to Clement immediately ? " 
 
 " You may," said the usher. " But I should warn you that 
 your -friend is in a very anxious and excited state. He would 
 hear all that had taken place in the school this morning. I 
 told him it was very bad for him to excite himself so, and he 
 had better wait to hear about it until he was better. But like 
 all invalids, he was fretful and unreasonable, and would hear 
 everything. I thought it better to tell him than to leave him
 
 340 Who did it ? 
 
 to fidget himself about it. But the less you say to him the 
 better. I shall ask Dr Everard to give him a composing 
 draught to-night, and a good night's rest will probably do him 
 a world of good." 
 
 Cressingham hastened upstairs accordingly, and passing the 
 closely-locked doors of the rooms where the two suspects were 
 confined, entered Burton's chamber. He found his friend 
 pacing up and down its narrow dimensions, like a wild beast 
 in a cage. " Oh, Fred ! " he exclaimed, as the latter entered, 
 " where have you been all this time ? I didn't think you'd 
 have forgotten me in this way." 
 
 " I'm very sorry, Clem, I am sure, but I've only just this 
 moment obtained leave to come up to you." 
 
 " Have you got any letter for me ? Was there any letter by 
 this afternoon's post ? It must have been in half-an-hour." 
 
 " I don't think the letters had been brought in when I left 
 the play-ground," said Cressingham. " I was some time talk- 
 ing to Wilkes. But I'll go down and ask Cobbe." 
 
 He went accordingly, and returned in a few minutes with 
 the information that the letters had arrived a quarter of an 
 hour ago, but there was nothing for Burton. 
 
 " Nothing," exclaimed Burton, in a tone of the greatest 
 distress ; " are you quite sure, Fred ? Oh, whatever shall I 
 do?" 
 
 "Whatever is the matter, Clem?" exclaimed Cressingham, 
 beginning to be apprehensive that his friend was seriously ill. 
 " As for the letters, there's certainly no mistake. There were 
 but two I asked Cobbe myself and they were both for Dr 
 Thornton." 
 
 " For Dr Thornton ? Was one of them from Wjckfield ? "
 
 A Strange Resolve. 341 
 
 " I'm sure I don't know," said Cressingh'am, still more 
 astonished at his companion's tone. " I don't suppose Cobbe 
 noticed the post-marks. At all events he didn't tell me any- 
 thing about them." 
 
 "Go and ask him please go and ask him please go and 
 ask him at once ! " cried Burton. 
 
 " Clem, my dear fellow, don't excite yourself in this way," 
 said Cressingham. " You'll make yourself ill worse than you 
 are." 
 
 " I'm not ill in body, Fred. You mistake altogether. Please 
 go and ask Cobbe if the post-mark of one of the letters was 
 Wickfield, and then ask if I can see the Doctor at once." 
 
 Cressingham hesitated, but it seemed the wisest course to 
 go and ask the question of the school servant. If Burton 
 obtained the information he wanted, he might be quieted by 
 it ; if he did not, in all likelihood he would continue to worry 
 himself. He descended the stairs accordingly a second time, 
 and presently reappeared. 
 
 " Cobbe did not notice the post-mark on either letter," he 
 reported. " I am sorry to say you cannot see the Doctor. He 
 went out again a quarter of an hour ago." 
 
 " When will he return ? " asked Burton. " Did you ask if 
 I could see him as soon as he came in ? " 
 
 " He won't be in again at all to-day," returned Cressingham. 
 
 " You don't mean that ! You can't mean that ! " cried his 
 school-fellow. " Oh, Fred, this is not kind of you." 
 
 " I assure you I'm telling you the simple fact," said Cres- 
 singham, earnestly. " The Doctor is engaged to dine and 
 sleep at Wandesborough Castle to-night, and probably won't 
 return before morning school to-morrow. Mr Wilkes distinctly 
 told me so."
 
 342 Who did it? 
 
 "Morning school to-morrow," repeated Burton. "And 
 this inquiry about Temple and Graves, I mean when is 
 that to be resumed ? " 
 
 "The inquiry about the dog?" said Cressingham. " Oh, I 
 suppose at twelve o'clock to-morrow. That's what Thornton 
 said this morning, if I remember right" 
 
 " Twelve o'clock," exclaimed Burton. " What is the time 
 now?" 
 
 " Ten minutes past four," returned Cressingham, consulting 
 his watch. 
 
 "Ah, too late for the afternoon post. What is to be 
 done?" 
 
 There was silence for some minutes. Cressingham looked 
 anxiously at his friend, whose appearance and demeanour, so 
 different from the common, bewildered and alarmed him. 
 Burton sat lost in thought. At last he spoke, but in quite a 
 different tone. " Fred, old fellow, you and I have been 
 friends for a great many years." 
 
 " Yes, Clem," responded Cressingham, " and I hope we 
 always shall be so." 
 
 "Thank you. And I think you can trust me to speak the 
 truth." 
 
 " If I couldn't trust you, I couldn't trust any one," was the 
 answer. 
 
 " Thank you once more. Well, then, I have something to 
 tell you. I am in a terrible fix. I can't explain to you what 
 it is, because it's another fellow's secret, and I have promised 
 to keep it. You understand that's my only reason for not 
 telling you." 
 
 " All right, Clem, go on."
 
 A Strange Resolve. 343 
 
 " I must get an answer from from a person at Wickfield ; 
 get an answer before twelve to-morrow. The post, you see, 
 is gone. Indeed, I question whether I could have got an 
 answer that way, even if it hadn't. Can you think of any one 
 who can take a note over there and bring a reply ? " 
 
 Cressingham pondered awhile. "James Gunn might do it 
 perhaps," he said, " but I'm afraid the chances are that he'll 
 have gone over to Haverport with his boat. He said yester- 
 day he was going, and very likely old Gunn will go with him. 
 Of course, Cobbe couldn't be spared. And besides, I suppose 
 you wouldn't want this matter mentioned, Clem ? " 
 
 " No, no, of course not," said Burton, nervously. 
 
 " Then really, Clem, I'm afraid I can't think of any one. 
 If one could get out and go down into Walesclirf, somebody 
 might be found, I daresay, though even then there'd be a 
 difficulty about their saying nothing about the matter; but 
 one couldn't get leave to go down into Walescliff without 
 saying what one wanted to go down for." 
 
 " I thought so," said Burton. " Well, then, Fred, there's 
 only one thing for it I must go to Wickfield myself." 
 
 "What!" exclaimed Cressingham, "go to Wickfield? 
 You ? When must you go, and how ? " 
 
 "Now this very night," returned Burton, "on my own 
 legs, I suppose." 
 
 Cressingham stared at him as though he thought his friend 
 had lost his senses. 
 
 " My dear fellow," he said at last, " something has upset 
 you altogether. You had better go to bed and get a good 
 night's rest. Then you'll be able to judge of this matter 
 better "
 
 344 WIio did it ? 
 
 " It would be no use judging the matter to-morrow. I 
 must have an answer from Wickfield before twelve o'clock." 
 
 " Before twelve twelve to-morrow, that is when the 
 Doctor is going to inquire into this matter of Graves's and 
 Temple's again ? Clem, I don't want to pry into your secrets, 
 but I can't help fancying it has some connection with that 
 business." 
 
 " Well, Fred, it has. I must admit it, though I would not 
 do so if I could help it." 
 
 "You know which of these two fellows did it, and you 
 have the means of proving it, but you must bring some one 
 from Wickfield for the purpose, is that it ? Or can it possibly 
 be ? " he added, as a number of circumstances presented them- 
 selves suddenly to his recollection Burton's suppression of 
 Temple's knowledge of the secret passage, and of his attempt to 
 go out of the house on the i8th, his determination not to 
 believe him guilty of Neptune's death, and his apparent con- 
 nivance in Temple's outstripping him in the competition for 
 the Hawley prize " can it possibly be that you yourself I 
 beg your pardon, Clem, I ought not for a moment to have 
 fancied such a thing " 
 
 " It was not very friendly, I must say that, Fred," rejoined 
 Burton, somewhat reproachfully. " Please say no more about 
 that." 
 
 " No, I won't, I did not really mean it. You might have 
 done it, Clem, of course. Any one of us might have done it. 
 But I know quite well that if by any unlucky chance you had 
 killed poor Nep, you would instantly have owned it. You 
 
 would have told all you knew told everything " 
 
 " Pray stop, Fred," interposed Burton, hastily. " There
 
 A Strange Resolve. 345 
 
 is no good in saying that, even if it were all true. The only 
 thing there is any good in considering is, whether you will 
 help me or not." 
 
 " Help you ! You may be sure I will help you to the 
 utmost of my ability. But in order to do so to any purpose, 
 I must quite understand what you want. You want a letter 
 to be brought from Wickfield from George Alford, I suppose. 
 You have been in correspondence with him haven't you all 
 this autumn ? " 
 
 " With George Alford ! " repeated Burton in great surprise ; 
 " George Alford has been absent from Wickfield for months 
 past ever since August last. Did not you know that ? I 
 thought every one knew it ! " 
 
 " What, I suppose he could not put up with that Wilcoxon 
 any longer ! Well, J don't wonder at that. But, Clem, he 
 had not left Wickfield when you told me all about him that 
 day, you know, when we were at Hanger's Cave " 
 
 " No," answered the other shortly. " He had not left 
 Wickfield then." 
 
 " And where is he now ?" 
 
 " I don't know," returned Burton. " I wish I did." 
 
 " Then who is the person from whom you want to get an 
 answer ? " 
 
 " Frank Knyvett," said Clement. 
 
 " Frank Knyvett ! What, the son of old Knyvett, the 
 lawyer ? I know him a little. He has been over here once 
 or twice. But what can he have to do with this business ? " 
 
 " You mustn't question me, Fred. I can't answer you." 
 
 " Well, Clem," said Cressingham, after a few moments of 
 reflection, " the whole thing is a puzzle to me. But, after all,
 
 346 Who did it ? 
 
 f 
 it does not signify who the person may be to whom you wish 
 
 to write. I'll do the best I can for you. See here. I'll go 
 to Tom Cobbe, and get him to go the first thing in the morn- 
 ing to old Gunn's cottage. If we give him half-a-crown, he'll 
 get up half an hour earlier than usual. Then James Gunn 
 will take your note immediately over to Mr Knyvett's, get an 
 answer, and be back here before twelve, I daresay." 
 
 " It would not be possible, Fred," answered Burton. " I know 
 exactly how long it takes to go to Wickfield. When I first 
 came here I often went over there during the holidays, and 
 generally as fast as it was possible to go. You can't reach 
 Friarswood Ferry under two hours, unless you are on horse- 
 back. Then it takes a good three-quarters of an hour to 
 cross it averages quite that and it is another hour on to 
 Wickfield. If Jem set out at six in the morning and I'm 
 pretty sure Tom wouldn't be persuaded to go down to the 
 cottage so early as that he couldn't reach Wickfield before 
 ten. Then he would have to find Frank, who might be at 
 home, or gone up to his office, or, it might be, engaged in 
 business somewhere else ; and an answer would have to be 
 written and brought back. If James returned by two o'clock, 
 it would be as early as I should expect him. And by that 
 time the inquiry would in all probability be over. It would 
 be useless sending a note in that manner. There is only one 
 thing for it, as I said before. I must go over to Wickfield 
 myself." 
 
 " But, Clem, how could you manage it ? " 
 
 " I should slip out at the gate, just before locking up time. 
 That is a little before six. I should then run down to the 
 shore by the back lane and across Speneleigh Wood, and so
 
 A Strange Resolve. 347 
 
 by the Ferry. I should reach Wickfield before ten, I expect. 
 I could sleep there to-night, and start by the early coach 
 which leaves the town at six and passes by this house at seven, 
 or a quarter-past. I could then slip in and go to bed, before 
 Mother Edwards came to my room in the morning. I don't 
 wonder at your looking like that, Fred. I know you must 
 think this very wrong of me. I daresay it is. But I can't 
 help it, Fred I can't help it. Won't you believe me, Fred, 
 I can't help it ? " 
 
 "My dear old fellow," said Cressingham, much moved. 
 " I believe you, with all my heart and soul. I can't under- 
 stand it, but you are, I know, doing what you believe to be 
 right. But see here, Clem, I can improve on your plan. 
 I'll slip out at six this evening instead of you, and carry 
 your note to James Gunn. I've no doubt he'll start with it 
 at once ; or if he can't go, Jack Landy from the Anchor will 
 ride his pony over, and be back by ten o'clock. He can 
 send or bring the answer up in the morning. That will be 
 better than your going out, ill as you are, this bitter night. 
 It has been freezing sharp all day " 
 
 "I am not ill, Fred. I told you so before. It is this 
 business that frets and troubles me, or I should be well 
 enough. I don't see why you are to run the risk of getting 
 into trouble on my account. But I'll take your advice, so far 
 as to write the note and carry it down to Gunn's cottage, or, 
 failing that, to the Anchor." 
 
 " And if neither Gunn nor Landy can go ? " suggested 
 Cressingham. 
 
 " I shall go myself," was the prompt rejoinder. 
 
 " Then I shall certainly go with you to see you off."
 
 348 Who did it ? 
 
 Burton tried to combat this resolution, but in vain. 
 Cressingham represented that, as he had obtained leave to 
 pass the evening with Burton, he would not be missed any 
 more than Burton himself, and if they made haste, they would 
 both be back before the gate was locked. As it now wanted 
 only a quarter to six, there was no time to argue the question, 
 and they prepared to start Their great-coats were kept in 
 their bedrooms there was no difficulty therefore about them ; 
 and Cressingham suggested that they should wear their thick 
 boating caps instead of hats. 
 
 "They'll be warmer," he said, "than the chimney-pots, 
 and we might have some difficulty in getting those, as we 
 should have to carry them through the schoolroom. We 
 can slip the caps into the pockets of our great-coats, and not 
 put them on till we are clear of the house. Now, then, Clem, 
 you had better let me go down stairs and watch till the 
 fellows have gone in to supper. Then the passages will be 
 clear for ten minutes or so, and we can get out of the house 
 without being seen." 
 
 Burton assented to all the arrangements without objection ; 
 the fever of anxiety, which had possessed him all day, had 
 completely exhausted him, and he was glad to put himself 
 into his friend's hands. Cressingham managed his share of 
 the business cleverly. He got behind a cupboard door, 
 whence he watched Cobbe and the women servants carrying 
 in mugs and plates, and afterwards trays of bread, tea-pots, 
 and jugs of milk. Presently there came the supper-bell, and 
 the clatter of feet from the schoolroom, and the noise of the 
 boys taking their places at the tables. As soon as this latter 
 had subsided, Cressingham crept upstairs and fetched his
 
 A Strange Resolve. 349 
 
 companion down. He noticed the dull listless air with which 
 he followed him across the court-yard and out at the front 
 gate, and was satisfied he had done wisely in not allowing 
 him to venture alone. 
 
 The lane leading to Walescliff seemed to be quite deserted. 
 Not a single person was in sight. The boys skimmed lightly 
 over the frosty ground, and in a little more than ten minutes 
 reached Gunn's cottage. Here they encountered their first 
 contretemps. The cottage was shut up. It was too early 
 for old Gunn to have gone to bed. But the outer door was 
 locked, and they knocked several times in vain. " Old Gunn 
 and Jem must be out somewhere," said Cressingham, " that's 
 a bore, but it can't be helped. I suppose you wish us to go 
 on to the ' Anchor,' Clem ? " 
 
 "Yes, if you please," was the answer. They went on 
 accordingly. But here, too, disappointment awaited them. 
 Jack Landy had gone out with his carriage to take a gentle- 
 man to Wandesborough Castle, and wouldn't return till quite 
 late past twelve it might be, and the horse would be too 
 tired to go out again, the landlord thought. 
 
 " That's unlucky, Clem," said Cressingham, " I really don't 
 know what's to be done now." 
 
 "There's nothing for it but for me to go by myself," said 
 Burton, rousing himself, " as I told you 1 meant to do, at the 
 first." 
 
 " You must not attempt it, indeed you must not," expostu- 
 lated Cressingham ; " you are not fit to do it. I don't know 
 what the consequences may be, if you persist in it" 
 
 " 1 must go, I tell you," said Burton. " It is no use talking. 
 Go back, Fred, and say nothing about this,"
 
 350 Who did it ? 
 
 " I shan't do that anyway," said Cressingham. " If one of 
 us must go, let it be me. I am well and strong, it won't hurt 
 me, though it will you." 
 
 " I can't help it, Fred, I tell you. This is my business and 
 no one's else, and I can't let any one take my work and my 
 responsibility. Good-night, Fred, go back at once, there's a 
 good fellow." 
 
 " Flatly, I won't do that, then. If you persist in going, I 
 shall go with you. I am quite as determined as you are." 
 
 "Very well, then, you must come," rejoined Burton, "I 
 can't .prevent your coming, any more than you can prevent 
 my going ; and I can't hang about here any longer." 
 
 He set off at a round pace as he spoke, followed by 
 his companion. The moon was clear and bright, though along 
 the edge of the horizon there were masses of heavy clouds 
 slowly creeping up. The air too was certainly not so sharp 
 as it had been an hour or two before, and the two boys were 
 soon in a glow. They passed along the narrow path leading 
 along the shore of the harbour, until they reached the stile, 
 where the footpath turned off through Speneleigh Wood. 
 The boys knew the way tolerably well, having more than 
 once made excursions to the " Royal Oak," and the moon 
 gave light enough to allow them to see the path clearly. It 
 was pleasant enough in the clear cold air and the bright moon- 
 shine, with the healthy glow produced by exercise pervading 
 their frames. 
 
 Notwithstanding this improvement in their prospects, Cress- 
 ingham resolved to make one last effort to prevent Burton 
 from persisting in the expedition. Close to Speneleigh stile 
 was the residence of Captain Grimes, the harbour-master,
 
 A Strange Resolve. 351 
 
 whose name has occurred several times already in these pages. 
 He was a good-tempered old man, and a favourite with the 
 boys, whom he would sometimes take out for a sail in his 
 large boat, or a few hours fishing. He had a rough forest 
 pony, which was used for a variety of purposes sometimes 
 drawing Mrs Grimes, who was an invalid, in a garden chair ; 
 sometimes carrying the Captain himself when he wanted to 
 go a longer distance than he was inclined to walk ; sometimes 
 drawing a small cart, which was sent over to Horncombe or 
 Haverport for coals or groceries. If the Captain could be 
 induced to lend this pony, and send his boy on it with the note 
 to Wickfield, all might yet be well. They might still be back 
 before seven o'clock, and so slip into the house before the 
 outer gate was locked. 
 
 Cressingham accordingly halted when they had surmounted 
 the stile, and proposed going up to Grimes's house and ask- 
 ing for the loan of the pony. Burton did not receive the 
 suggestion favourably. He was in a state of excitement, 
 aggravated by the recent disappointments, which rendered him 
 unusually perverse and uncomplying. 
 
 " Grimes wouldn't lend us his pony," he said. " He never 
 likes lending it. He refused to lend it to Wilkes and M 'Donald 
 yesterday. They wanted it and the cart to take some of the 
 things to the Royal Oak." 
 
 " I don't wonder at his refusing that," remarked Cressing- 
 ham. " I wouldn't lend a pony to go on a party with some of 
 our juniors. But Grimes might lend it to us to ride to Wick- 
 field" 
 
 " Wickfield ? " said a voice close to them ; " are you gentle- 
 men thinking of going to Wickfield to-night ? "
 
 352 Who did it \ 
 
 The boys faced quickly round, and perceived that the speaker 
 was Grimes himself, who, with his pipe in his mouth, was 
 strolling homewards. 
 
 " Yes, Captain, we are obliged to go there or send a letter 
 to-night. Can you help us ? " returned Cressingham. 
 
 " Only by advising you to go back to Holmwood and wait 
 till to-morrow, Mr Cressingham. And did I hear you say 
 anything about riding riding through Speneleigh Wood ? 
 Why, a horse couldn't keep his feet with the path in the state 
 it's in now, any more than he could on a boy's slide. You had 
 better go back, young gentlemen indeed, you had. There's 
 a slight thaw beginning, and the roads are worse then than at 
 any other time." 
 
 " We must go, Captain," said Burton. " Much obliged to 
 you all the same. Good night." And before the worthy 
 harbour-master could commence a fresh remonstrance, the 
 boys were almost out of hearing. 
 
 "He won't send up to the Priory, will he?" suggested 
 Cressingham, " and say that he has met us." 
 
 " I don't think he will," returned Burton. " I have never 
 known him do anything of the kind. But if he does I should 
 not very greatly care, except on your account, Fred. Let me 
 reach Wickfield, and see Frank Knyvett, and I don't much 
 care what happens."
 
 CHAPTER XXIII. 
 
 THE GREEN HOLM. 
 
 HURRYING on to make up, so far as was possible, for lost time, 
 the boys reached the Royal Oak in a few minutes under the 
 hour and a quarter. Here they sat down for a few minutes 
 on the bench in front of the inn to rest their feet, which ached 
 somewhat in consequence of the rapid pace at which they had 
 walked. They were not more than half-way to Wickfield, but 
 Cressingham's fears lest his companion should break down on 
 the way were now quieted. It was plain he had been right in 
 saying his ailment was not bodily illness, but worry and alarm. 
 It was now a little more than two miles to Friarswood Ferry, 
 and Cressingham reckoned that if they kept up the same speed 
 as hitherto, they would reach it by half-past eight o'clock. 
 
 In a few minutes they again started, and in another quarter 
 of an hour saw before them the estuary of the Spene. The 
 clouds had been gathering for some time past, and the moon, 
 hitherto bright and clear, was now occasionally obscured. By 
 the time when they had reached the shore some heavy clouds 
 were passing, and it was with difficulty that they could find 
 the ferryman's house. The old man too was hard to rouse, 
 and when they had succeeded in coming to a parley with him, 
 
 z
 
 354 Who did it? 
 
 his first words expressed his astonishment at the request made 
 of him. 
 
 " Cross the ferry, young gentlemen ! " he said, " cross it 
 now ! Why, there's a sheet of ice over it thick enough to bear 
 a horse pretty nigh. Folk have been crossing all the after- 
 noon. It may break up before morning, but the boat won't 
 be able to cross to-morrow, nor the day after neither." 
 
 " Do you say that people have been crossing this evening ? " 
 asked Burton. 
 
 " I don't know when the last went over," said the ferryman. 
 " Hoskins, the pedlar, with his pack he was the last I saw. 
 He went across about half-past five o'clock three hours ago." 
 
 " If he could get across, so can we," said Burton. " Good 
 evening, ferryman. Come along, Fred." 
 
 "Wait a minute, Clem," said Cressingham. "You had 
 better not attempt this without knowing a little more about it. 
 Old Ball said the frost might be breaking up, and it feels to 
 me very much as though it were giving. It's a long way 
 across, and I know there are places where the ice is much 
 thinner than in others. Hallo, Ball ! " he shouted, " did you 
 say the frost was breaking up ? " 
 
 The old man put his head out of the window again. "Seems 
 like it," he said, " but can't be sure." 
 
 " Is it safe to cross, do you think ? " 
 
 " Depends on whether you're in a hurry," said the ferryman. 
 " If you aint, you'd best come back and see how 'tis in the 
 morning." 
 
 14 Yes, but we are we are," exclaimed Burton, impatiently. 
 
 "Well then, you'd best cross by the island. It's a bit 
 longer, but the ice is stronger there. But I must go to bed
 
 The Green Holm. 355 
 
 again. The missus don't like the window being kep open." 
 So saying, Mr Ball shut the window down, and again buried 
 himself beneath the bed-clothes. 
 
 " Clem, hadn't we better stay here for a few hours at all 
 events?" urged Cressingham. " Ball will let us stay at his 
 house, I've no doubt. It will make no difference at what 
 hour we reach Wickfield, so that we're in time for you to get 
 your answer from your friend and return to Walescliff by the 
 morning coach. Another hour or two" 
 
 " No, no," broke in Burton, " in another hour or two it may 
 be impossible to cross. The moon is out now, and will be out 
 for the next quarter of an hour at least, and that will give us 
 time to see our way across. But don't you come, Cressing- 
 ham, if you'd rather not " 
 
 " If you go, I shall," interrupted Cressingham ; " that's 
 settled." 
 
 Nothing further was said. Picking up a short thick stick, 
 several of which were lying about, Burton moved down to the 
 point indicated by the ferryman, and stepped upon the ice. 
 
 The island has already been described in an earlier chapter. 
 It lay in the middle of the estuary of the Spene a long narrow 
 strip of land covered with shrubs in the centre, and fringed 
 with long reeds and rushes, whence it derived its name of 
 the " Green Holm." It was a favourite place during the 
 summer months for excursionists, who were wont to row 
 over from Wickfield or Loggington, or sometimes from 
 Walescliff and the towns further out in that direction, and 
 pic-nic there. There was a rude hut immediately adjoining a 
 spring of fresh water at the furthest point of the island. Close 
 to this also was the landing place. The cottage itself was kept
 
 356 Who did it? 
 
 in repair by the lord of the manor, Squire Wolford ; and 
 during the summer season so many parties were wont to visit 
 the spot, that Mrs Ball made a regular practice of migrating 
 to it early in June, and continuing her residence till late in 
 September, picking up a very considerable harvest of sixpences 
 and shillings from the parties whom she supplied with glass, 
 crockery, and hot water. If any complaints were made by 
 visitors, she was happily fenced from hearing them, being 
 almost stone deaf unable, at all events, by any effort to catch 
 the purport of the remarks addressed to her. On these occa- 
 sions her husband was usually called in as the medium of 
 communication. But as he too, if not absolutely deaf, was 
 extremely hard of hearing, visitors generally found it wiser to 
 take the goods with which the gods provided them, without 
 any attempt at remonstrance. 
 
 Burton stepped out stoutly, making for the point recom- 
 mended by Ball. The ice seemed solid and firm under his 
 feet, and he moved rapidly, though cautiously, onward. But he 
 had miscalculated the time during which the moon would 
 remain clear of cloud. The wind had freshened somewhat, 
 and the heavy dark masses kept sweeping up faster than 
 before. The two boys were still a hundred yards from the 
 shore of the island when the light failed them. In another 
 minute it was impossible to see any object within the distance 
 of a few yards. They moved on now very slowly, hold- 
 ing each other's hands, and feeling their way with their 
 sticks. 
 
 " We had better stop, Fred," said Burton, presently. " I'm 
 afraid we must be going wrong. We were not above a hundred 
 yards from the island, when that cloud came over the moon.
 
 "CRESSINGHAM COULD SEE HIM STRUGGLING 
 
 356-
 
 Tlie Green Holm. 357 
 
 I've been counting the steps I have taken, and we ought to 
 have reached it before this." 
 
 " It will be no use standing still, Clem," answered his friend. 
 "I noticed there was a long chain of black clouds, one after 
 another, coming up. It would take a very long time before 
 they all go by. We must keep moving. Even if we have 
 missed the end of the island, we must be going right for the 
 Wickfield shore. Hallo ! what's that, Clem ? what's the 
 matter?" he cried, as Burton let go his hand, and the sound of 
 a heavy fall, and a splash followed, "What is the matter?" he 
 repeated in a louder tone. There was no answer ; but the 
 moon at this moment broke out in the interval between two 
 masses of black cloud, and the landscape again became for a 
 few minutes clearly visible. Cressingham saw that they were 
 close to the shore. A punt had been moored to the bank, the 
 ice round it was broken away, and the punt pole was driven 
 deep into the mud. It was over this that Burton had stumbled, 
 and Cressingham could see him struggling in the water, which 
 was several feet deep, though close in shore. He climbed 
 into the punt, and leaning over, caught Burton by the collar. 
 The latter had still strength enough to assist his companion's 
 efforts, and he was presently landed, weak and shivering, but 
 uninjured, on terra firma. 
 
 " Come along, Clem," cried Cressingham, " come as quick 
 as you can to the cottage. We shall find shelter there at all 
 events." 
 
 Burton obeyed as well as he was able. Leaning on Cres- 
 singham's arm he staggered along the path, which fortunately 
 it was almost impossible to miss, and in a few minutes they 
 reached the hut.
 
 358 Wliodidit? 
 
 " Here we are at last," exclaimed Cressingham, in a tone 
 expressive of great relief. " Why, what," he added a moment 
 afterwards, as they came in front of the cottage window, and 
 saw that it was lighted up, and that several figures were seated 
 round a fire burning on the hearth. "Why, what is 
 this? Here are a lot of fellows, and and whoever is 
 this" 
 
 He broke off in still greater surprise, as a lad, who had been 
 sitting on a stool by the fire, got up as soon as the two 
 friends entered the hut, and grasping Burton by the hand, ex- 
 claimed, " Clem, I declare, and Fred Cressingham, too ! 
 What in the world can have brought you here?" 
 
 " George Alford !" cried Cressingham, in equal astonish 
 ment. " I thought you were a hundred miles away at the 
 least But there is no time for explanations now. Here's 
 Clem, he has fallen over head and ears into the river, and 
 he'll catch a frightful cold if he remains in his wet things. 
 He is too much done up to talk to you now. But we'll 
 soon set him right if you will help me." 
 
 Alford acquiesced. Burton was stripped of his clothes, 
 wiped dry with handkerchiefs, and then seated before the fire, 
 wrapped in some rough overcoats. Having been further 
 recruited with a cup of hot spirits and water, which the party 
 had been imbibing, Burton presently pronounced himself to be 
 all right again, and called on his friend to give some account 
 of his unexpected appearance. 
 
 " Well, Clem," said Alford, " I think I might ask for an 
 explanation of your appearance too. Only, I suppose, I can 
 guess it. You were on your way to Wickfield to inquire 
 whether I had arrived "
 
 The Green Holm. 359 
 
 " You, or any letter from you, George. You know I could 
 not speak without your permission." 
 
 " So the letter which I found on my arrival at Wickfield 
 this afternoon said. I could not understand exactly to what 
 you referred, but I saw you were very anxious to see me, and 
 as it was too late to write by the mid-day post, I asked Tom 
 and Bill Bowles here to take me over in their boat. You 
 know the Bowles's, by the way, Clem, don't you?" 
 
 " Oh, yes," said Burton, laughing, " they are old acquaint- 
 ances of mine, and of Fred's too. You remember that day 
 when we took you off the Quoits, I daresay, Mr Bowles?" 
 
 " Yes, sir," answered Tom Bowles. " We've good reason 
 to remember you and Mr Cressingham too. We were a bit 
 rough with you that day, I am afraid, sir. I hope you'll 
 please to excuse it. You see we might have been caught any 
 moment by a boat from the frigate " 
 
 <: Ay, I heard something of the story," said Burton. " I 
 suppose it was that scoundrel, Carr, set the pressgang on 
 you?" 
 
 " Yes, sir, only there was a bigger scoundrel even than he, 
 egging him on," replied Tom. 
 
 "What, Mr Wilcoxon, I suppose?" 
 
 "Ay, to be sure, who else?" replied Bowles. "But Mr 
 Knyvett, he has contrived to hunt up Carr at last, and he has 
 given information " 
 
 " You'd better let me tell my story, Tom," interposed 
 Alford, "and then it will all come clear. Well, as I was 
 saying, Clem, our friends here undertook to carry me over by 
 five o'clock to Walescliff harbour, when I should have gone 
 up at once to Holmwood. But when we got opposite the
 
 360 Who did it ? 
 
 island here, we had the misfortune to run upon a stake, which 
 had been driven in to hold a net, I suppose." 
 
 " By some of the pleasuring chaps, I expect," interposed 
 Bill Bowles, " to fasten one of their boats to, and they'd never 
 pulled it out again." 
 
 " It doesn't much matter. So much damage was done that 
 it would take an hour or two to put right, and then the clouds 
 were coming up, and it would evidently be dark all night. 
 So we agreed we'd stay till morning, and get to Walescliff 
 before breakfast You see it didn't matter so much, because 
 there's always a lot of wood lying about here to make a fire 
 with, and there's a spring of water, and I had my brandy flask." 
 
 " It is a good job for me you had, George," said Burton. 
 " But you asked me just now, or rather you said, you could 
 not understand from my letter what I wanted. Why, of 
 course, it was your permission to explain to Captain 
 Gurdon " 
 
 " Explain to Captain Gurdon ?" interrupted Alford. " Why 
 I wrote a full explanation to the Captain, and a letter to you 
 also, telling you I had done so." 
 
 " No such letters have ever been received, George. How 
 did you send them ?" 
 
 " By the pilot Andrew Parsons his name was, if I re- 
 member." 
 
 " Andy Parsons," repeated Bill Bowles. " If you sent them 
 by him, it aint no wonder they didn't come to hand. He's 
 seldom quite sober when he goes aboard a ship, and never 
 when he comes back from one." 
 
 "And that business has never been explained then ?" cried 
 Alford.
 
 Tfie Green Holm. 361 
 
 " No, George, I could not speak without your leave. I had 
 promised I would not. But it will be all right now. You 
 will give your consent, I suppose, and I shall be able to tell 
 the Doctor " 
 
 " No, Clem, I'll go over to-morrow and tell it all myself. 
 I am only grieved to think how much trouble you must have 
 had on my account. Doesn't even Cressingham here know 
 the rights of the matter ? " 
 
 " Of course not, George. Didn't I promise you I would 
 give no hint that I knew anything of your doings, since the 
 day you left Wickfield ? I have never been released from 
 that promise. But I think it will be better for you to go over 
 to the Priory to-morrow as you propose, and give an explana- 
 tion, which everyone Captain Gurdon, Thornton, Hepburn, 
 and all the school will hear. That will be better than my doing 
 it, and Fred, I daresay, won't mind waiting till then. Still I 
 should like to hear at once what has been happening to you 
 since we parted that morning, if you don't mind telling it. I 
 suppose you don't mind either Fred here, or the Bowles's 
 knowing it, do you?" 
 
 " Not at all. Every one is welcome to know it, so far as I 
 am concerned, and Tom and Bill here do know it pretty well 
 already. But do I understand that you have never received 
 any letter at all from me since the igth of August last?" 
 
 " I have never received any letter at all. I did hear from 
 Frank Knyvett that you had written to him, but the letter 
 contained no message for me." 
 
 " That is strange. But it is of no consequence now. Well, 
 then, I'll begin at the beginning. You know I had taken my 
 passage for New Orleans, and was going to sail from Curlew
 
 362 Who did it ? 
 
 on the very day of our parting. I had discovered, through 
 Frank Knyvett, you know, that Wilcoxon had found out 
 something about my plans. He knew that I was intending to 
 leave England ; and probably suspected that I was going to 
 New Orleans, to find out anything about Major Baynton that 
 could be learned. It did not at all suit him to let me go on 
 such an errand, and he had devised a scheme to prevent 
 
 " How do you suppose he found out anything about it ? " 
 asked Burton. 
 
 " Well, you know I had to raise the money to pay my 
 passage to New York, and afterwards to New Orleans, and 
 though I went as a steerage passenger a good bit of money 
 was wanted. I had been saving up my money for months 
 past, and I sold a watch and some seals which my father had 
 given me, and the Bowles's lent me a few sovereigns and you 
 some more, and so I made it up. But I have an idea that 
 the jeweller to whom I sold the things told Wilcoxon about it. 
 Anyhow he had taken his measures to prevent it. Frank 
 warned me that he was going to send me the very next day, 
 he believed, to a fellow living in the north of Scotland, in the 
 Hebrides, I think, who professed to take pupils. Frank knew 
 something of the man and of the place. He said I should be 
 half-starved and moped to death. I was to be kept without 
 money, and even if I had it, it would be very difficult for me 
 to get away from the island. I was to be kept there in fact, 
 till I knocked under about the clerkship. 
 
 " The only chance was for me to be off at once. So I came 
 over to you, as you know, and then went on to Haverport Roads, 
 where the ship was lying. I reached her only just in time. She
 
 The Green Holm. 363 
 
 was actually weighing anchor when I went on board. We had 
 a good passage down channel, and as far as the Irish Coast ; 
 but a day or two afterwards there were contrary winds, and we 
 didn't reach New York till the end of the first week in October. 
 Half-way between Newfoundland and the American Coast 
 there was an opportunity of sending letters to England, and I 
 wrote both to you and to Frank Knyvett. I wrote to him a 
 second letter soon after we landed.'' 
 
 " He had your second letter, George. Neither of the others 
 came to hand." 
 
 " Ah, then, it must have been as I feared. I remember 
 there were heavy gales soon afterwards. I suppose the New 
 England Star must have been lost. Well, to go on. My 
 first step after reaching New York was to secure a passage for 
 New Orleans. I went down to the packet office for the pur- 
 pose. There was a great crowd of people about, and it was a 
 long time before I could get attended to. While I was stand- 
 ing about waiting for my turn to come, I felt, all of a moment, 
 a slap on the back, and heard a fellow saying, ' Why, it is 
 George Alford, I declare, or else his twin brother ! What 
 can have brought you to this part of the world, my lad ? ' 
 
 " I turned round, and there, looking me full in the face, was 
 the very man I had come out to look after, the man whom I 
 had almost made up my mind to believe dead, my guardian, 
 Major Baynton himself " 
 
 " By Jove, you don't mean that ! " exclaimed Burton. " That 
 was a go ! I wish you joy with all my heart ! Where had he 
 been all those months ? " 
 
 George proceeded to inform him in a narrative, which we 
 will abridge for the reader's benefit.
 
 364 WJw did it ? 
 
 Major Baynton, or Colonel as he should more properly be 
 called, having attained that rank soon after landing in America, 
 had led one of the attacks on the cotton ramparts of New 
 Orleans on the disastrous 5th of January 1815. He had been 
 cut down in a sortie by the enemy, and left for dead on the 
 field. The ruffians who never fail to plunder the dying and 
 the dead after every battle, had stripped him of his uniform 
 and sword, leaving nothing on his person by which his name 
 or rank could be determined. The sabre cut which had pro- 
 strated him had inflicted some injury on the brain, causing 
 stupor lasting for some eighteen months, during all which time 
 the patient had never regained consciousness. When at last 
 reason and memory slowly returned to him, he found that 
 peace with England had long been concluded, and he was free 
 to return thither whensoever he pleased. He learned also 
 the stirring incidents of the " hundred days," the glories of 
 Waterloo, and the terrible loss of life by which they had been 
 purchased. In the Gazette of that sanguinary day he read 
 with deep regret the name of his friend George Alford. 
 
 " Poor Alford," he exclaimed, with a sigh, " his death will 
 be a heavy blow to his son that nice lad ! I wonder what has 
 become of him by this time. His father has been dead more 
 than a year. And, by the way, he made me the boy's guardian, 
 or one of his guardians. Well, I shall be returning to Eng- 
 land as soon as I can arrange my affairs, and then I can make 
 inquiries about him." 
 
 It was early in September when the Colonel made this 
 discovery, and about three weeks afterwards he took his 
 passage for England by way of New York, encountering 
 George Alford, as the reader has heard, in one of the quays 
 belonging to that city.
 
 The Green Holm. 365 
 
 " Well," said George, " the moment I met him all was right 
 again. He told me I was quite right as to my father's inten- 
 tions respecting me. He had not only always meant that I 
 should go into the army as soon as I entered on my seventeenth 
 year, but had left full instructions to his executors to carry out 
 his intentions in events of his dying before their fulfilment. A 
 copy of these, in Colonel Alford's own handwriting, had been 
 sent to Major Baynton at the time when the Colonel left Eng- 
 land for the Peninsula. The original had remained with the will, 
 which had been left with Mrs Alford. Doubtless it had 
 fallen into Mr Wilcoxon's hands, and by him, it would appear, 
 had been suppressed. 
 
 " ' But it will be all right now, my lad,' Colonel Baynton 
 said to me, when I had told him all that had taken place 
 since my father's death. ' We are not going to leave New 
 York for a fortnight yet, and I'll write to Mr Wilcoxon by the 
 packet, which sails to-day, such a letter as will put a stop to 
 his designs on you and on your money too.' 
 
 " Well, Clem, we stayed our fortnight in New York, and I 
 never enjoyed anything more in all my life. Colonel Baynton 
 is the jolliest fellow, I think, in the whole world. He took 
 me everywhere about with him, and set me up in clothes and 
 pocket money, and paid my passage home. 
 
 " We parted at Plymouth. He had to go up to London for 
 a few days, and I came on to Wickfield, which, as I told 
 you, I reached to-day. What do you think was the first thing 
 I heard from Frank Kny vett, on my arriving there ? " 
 
 " I can't say, I am sure, George," returned Burton. " I 
 suppose old Wilcoxon hadn't hanged himself, had he ? " 
 
 " Well, no, he hadn't exactly done that. But he had done
 
 366 Who did it ? 
 
 the next thing to it. He had sold his nail factory, his house 
 and furniture, and left Wickfield left England, it was be- 
 lieved, carrying my stepmother away with him." 
 
 " A good riddance, George," said Cressingham, " if all I 
 have heard is true. But what made him do that ? I thought 
 his business at Wickfield was supposed to be a thriving one ; 
 and though he was disappointed in his attempts to get hold of 
 your money, or make you his clerk, I don't see what Colonel 
 Baynton could have done to him." 
 
 " I am not clear on that point," said Alford. " Frank 
 Kynvett told me that his father had said it would be an 
 awkward thing for Mr Wilcoxon, if it could be proved that 
 the paper of instructions to Colonel Alford's executors had 
 been left with Mrs Alford, and by her handed to her present 
 husband. His attempts to appropriate the Colonel's money to 
 benefit his own business, in the teeth of his own written 
 directions, would be an ugly fact if it was brought into any 
 court. But I don't suppose that was his main reason for sell- 
 ing his property and leaving Wickfield. Tom Bowles here 
 could give you a better reason. Couldn't you, Tom ? " 
 
 " Well, sir, I could give you a pretty good one. Lawyer 
 Knyvett he aint a bad man of business, Mr Burton he has 
 routed out this man Carr, who was the chap that set the press- 
 gang upon us. Mr Knyvett knew something of this Carr 
 was consarned, I fancy, in some trial for assault and robbery 
 with which a man named Clark charged him. When he 
 was took up by the constables for the false evidence he 
 gave the officer of the press-gang, Mr Knyvett threatened 
 him, if he didn't tell the whole truth of his dealings with Wil- 
 coxon, that he'd bring up the old charge against him. Carr he
 
 The Green Holm. 367 
 
 got frightened, and he told the whole. He said Wilcoxon had 
 been down to him and put him up to lending us the thousand 
 pounds, and then coming upon us for it again as soon as he 
 thought we'd spent it ; and when that didn't do, he promised 
 Can fifty if he'd get us carried aboard one of the ships that 
 was just agoing to sail against Algiers. He sent Carr some 
 paper, which pretended to be a conviction of Bill and myself 
 for some felony, which took the liftenant in '"' 
 
 " The lieutenant of the Enterprise you mean ? " said 
 Cressingham. 
 
 " Yes, of the Enterprise, sir, and the liftenant, thinking the 
 paper was all right, wouldn't listen to us, and when we cut up 
 rough, he put us into irons. It was a near go, sir. If it 
 hadn't happened that Bill there had been buying a couple of 
 files that very morning to sharpen his saw, we should have been 
 taken to Algiers, and as likely as not knocked on the head. 
 But they didn't suspect we'd got the files, and we worked with 
 them all the night, and before the day began to break, we 
 made our escape." 
 
 " And Mr Knyvett threatened Mr Wilcoxon to bring up 
 this man Carr's evidence against him, hey?" asked Cressing- 
 ham. 
 
 " Well, sir, he took care Mr Wilcoxon should know he'd 
 found it all out. I don't exactly know what means he took to 
 let him know it, but he did, and Wilcoxon judged it better to 
 clear off while he could. Any way he is gone, and the nail 
 factory's shut up, and I hope it won't be opened again." 
 
 " I hope it won't Tom," assented Alford, "or if it is, that it 
 will be opened by a different sort of fellow from Wilcoxon. 
 Well now, Clem, it is getting pretty late. You had better put
 
 368 Who did it ? 
 
 on your clothes again, which are now quite dry, and we'll lie 
 down to sleep before the fire. What time had we better start 
 in the morning, Tom ? You must settle that." 
 
 " Well, Mr George, there aint no good in setting off too 
 early. We'll set about mending the boat, as soon as it's light, 
 and if we start by ten o'clock, it will be time enough." 
 
 "Ten o'clock; very good. We shall be at Walescliff a 
 little after eleven. Mr Knyvett and Frank are to meet us at 
 the King's Arms at half-past eleven. And then we'd all go 
 together to the Priory."
 
 CHAPTER XXIV. 
 
 THE ANSWER AT LAST. 
 
 DR THORNTON did not return to the Priory until just before 
 morning school, and he had, in consequence, no time to 
 receive the matron's report after breakfast, as was his wont 
 This was some relief to that lady, who was a good deal troubled 
 to know what had become of Burton and Cressingham. 
 Burton had requested that he might not be disturbed in the 
 morning. His room, accordingly, had not been visited until 
 eight o'clock, when it was found that he had quitted it. As 
 his bed had not been made on the previous day, no suspicions 
 were entertained that he had not slept in it. Presently the 
 maid who had charge of Cressingham's room came to report 
 that his bed had not been occupied. Supposing, however, 
 that the boy had chosen to pass the night in his friend's room, 
 even this did not rouse suspicion. But when neither of the 
 boys appeared at breakfast, and inquiries after them failed to 
 elicit any satisfactory answer, the matron became uneasy. If 
 the missing boys had borne a bad character for irregularity and 
 disobedience, it would at once have been surmised that they 
 were playing truant a trick, it may be remarked in passing, 
 much more common in those days than the present. But Burton
 
 370 Who did it? 
 
 and Cressingham were two of the steadiest boys in the school. 
 They had been many years at Holmwood, and had never on 
 any occasion broken the rules to any serious extent ; and it 
 was impossible to suppose that they had run away. Mrs 
 Edwards was inclined to believe that they must have gone to 
 the Doctor for some purpose, and contented herself with making 
 a few inquiries from any persons whom she met, as to whether 
 they had seen them. About eleven o'clock Mr Eaton, the 
 butcher, who had just arrived from Walescliff, was able to 
 answer her questions. 
 
 " Mr Burton and Mr Cressingham ? " he said. " Yes, I see 
 'em last night see 'em in Walescliff, in the bar of the 
 ' Anchor Inn,' ma'am." 
 
 " Last night, in the bar of the Anchor Inn, Mr Eaton ! " 
 repeated the horrified matron. " Why, you're joking, to be 
 sure." 
 
 "No, I aint," repeated the butcher. "Never was more 
 serious." 
 
 " Well then, you must be mistaken," rejoined the lady. 
 
 "I aint that either," said the other. "I know Mr Burton 
 and Mr Cressingham by sight as well as I know you, Mrs 
 Edwards. I had gone down to speak to the landlord about 
 that horse of mine he thinks of buying ; and I was standing in 
 the bar, when the two young gentlemen came in. They had 
 got a letter with them, and wanted Jack Landy to ride with it 
 somewhere to Wickfield, I fancy. But he couldn't take it. 
 He'd gone to drive a gentleman to Wandesborough Castle. I 
 heard it all as plain as I heard you speaking just now, Mrs 
 Edwards." 
 
 "Well, what happened then, Mr Eaton?" asked Mrs
 
 TJie Answer at Last. 371 
 
 Edwards. "What did they do when they found Landy 
 couldn't take it ? " 
 
 " Well, I can't be sure," answered the butcher. " One of 
 them said something about the letter going somehow or other, 
 and they went off by the footpath towards Speneleigh Wood. 
 I suppose they meant to ask Mr Grimes to take it. I had half 
 a mind to offer to send it myself, they seemed so anxious 
 about it But my horse had been out all the afternoon and 
 was tired, so I didn't speak to them." 
 
 "The Doctor must hear this," exclaimed the matron. 
 " They must have run away after all ! Whoever would have 
 thought that of two such quiet gentlemen ! I think we're all 
 bewitched, I do ! Where is the Doctor, Tom ? " she con- 
 tinued, turning to the school servant ? 
 
 " The Doctor is in school," replied Cobbe, " but it will be 
 over in forty minutes. If I might presume to advise, it would 
 be better to wait till then." 
 
 " Very well, Tom. Meanwhile there will be just time for 
 you to run down to Grimes's cottage, and enquire if he knows 
 anything about this." 
 
 Meanwhile school had been proceeding as usual, notwith- 
 standing that the four head boys of the first class were absent. 
 At about a quarter to twelve o'clock, however, a message was 
 brought in by one of the maids Cobbe, it appeared, being 
 absent to say that Mr Lumley had driven over, and was now 
 in the Doctor's study anxious to see him as soon as it would 
 be convenient. The Doctor hurried out, and found his visitor 
 in a state of considerable anxiety and bewilderment. 
 
 " I have this morning received a letter from my ward, 
 Stephen Graves," he said, " which I cannot understand, and
 
 372 Who did it? 
 
 which induced me to drive over immediately to talk to you 
 about it." 
 
 " Sit down, Mr Lumley," said the Doctor. " I did not 
 expect this, but am not greatly surprised. What does Stephen 
 say ? " 
 
 " He speaks of some unfounded charge having been sud- 
 denly revived against him, and of his having been suspected 
 of some offence he does not say what without sufficient 
 evidence indeed, notwithstanding that there was clear evi- 
 dence of another person's guilt. He wants me to send and 
 fetch him away immediately. Of course, I am not going to 
 do that. Whatever charge may have been made against him 
 ought to be thoroughly gone into, and its truth or falsehood 
 made clear, before I could take any step of that kind." 
 
 "You are quite right, Mr Lumley. The whole matter 
 referred to a most intricate and perplexing one ought to 
 be fully elucidated before it is allowed to drop. I need not 
 tell you, I trust, that I am anxious to do the fullest justice to 
 your ward." 
 
 Mr Lumley bowed. " Certainly," he said, " I do not require 
 to be told that. Let me add that I think you have done him 
 justice in the fullest sense of the word. Indeed, for the last 
 two or three months your reports of him have been highly 
 satisfactory. That fact was one of those which caused me so 
 much perplexity." 
 
 " He has indeed being doing unusually well," said the head- 
 master ; " admirably, I may say. I had felt convinced that 
 this charge, which had almost been forgotten, had no founda- 
 tion so far as he was concerned. But it was revived yesterday 
 by Captain Gurdon, the owner of a valuable dog which has
 
 The Answer at Last. 373 
 
 been shot, and Stephen- unfortunately refuses to give any 
 explanation of certain circumstances, which though they 
 would not absolutely prove the case against him, even if their 
 truth could be fully established are nevertheless full of very 
 grave suspicion. I hope your presence may induce him to 
 speak out." 
 
 " It is the fault of his character," said Mr Lumley. " He is, 
 I believe, incapable of meanness or falsehood, but there is a 
 sullen haughtiness about him which will not stoop to explana- 
 tion. I will do my best, though I'll by no means answer, after 
 the experience I have had of him, that I shall succeed. It 
 will be, however, necessary, in the first place, that I should 
 understand the matter in question, of which, as yet, I have no 
 knowledge." 
 
 Doctor Thornton accordingly entered into a full explanation 
 of the affair of the igth of August, to which Mr Lumley 
 listened, asking various questions as the narrative proceeded. 
 It had hardly come to a conclusion when Cobbe, who had 
 now returned, announced Colonel Wilder, Captain Gurdon, 
 and Baines. It being now past twelve o'clock, the whole party 
 adjourned to the school-room to re-commence the enquiry. 
 
 The boys were all drawn up in school order, with the ushers 
 at their desks, intense interest expressed on each face. " Let 
 Temple and Graves be brought down," said the Doctor. "Mr 
 Wilkes, will you be so good as to fetch them ? " 
 
 " You ought to be informed, sir," said Mr Hepburn, as the 
 usher left the room, that two of the head boys of the school 
 Burton and Cressingham are not to be found." 
 
 "Not to be found, Mr Hepburn?" exclaimed the head- 
 master in surprise ; " what do you mean ? I thought Burton
 
 374 Who did it ? 
 
 was ill, and Cressingham had been allowed to sit with 
 him." 
 
 " That was the case yesterday, sir ; but it appears that they 
 went out about six o'clock last night, and have never returned." 
 "You must be dreaming, Mr Hepburn," exclaimed Dr 
 Thornton. 
 
 " I thought so myself, sir, when I first heard it. But it 
 certainly is so. Eaton, the butcher, saw them in Walescliff 
 somewhere about six o'clock, and Captain Grimes met them 
 near the entrance of Speneleigh wood a quarter of an hour 
 later. It appears they were going to Wickfield. They wanted 
 to borrow Grimes's pony to ride there, but he refused to lend 
 it to them." 
 
 There was a silence of a minute or two, while the boys stared 
 at one another in blank amazement. At last the headmaster 
 again spoke. 
 
 " I cannot conceive what this can mean, and the moment 
 this present affair is settled, I shall go over to Wickfield and 
 make inquiries. Meanwhile we had better proceed at once. 
 Baines, have you any further evidence to produce ? " 
 
 " No, sir," answered the constable, " I don't see what further 
 evidence could be produced, unless some one had actually 
 seen the dog shot, which aint very likely, or he'd have come 
 forward long ago." 
 
 " Very well then, your presence will not be needed here. 
 Will you be so good as to go down into Walescliff and learn 
 anything you can about these two boys ? Captain Gurdon," 
 he resumed, as the door closed upon Baines, " have you learnt 
 anything further ? " 
 
 " No, sir," returned the Captain. " I am of the same
 
 The Answer at Last. 375 
 
 opinion as Baines. I do not think any further evidence will 
 ever be discovered. One of these two did it, and I, for my 
 part, have no doubt which it was." 
 
 " You mean that my ward did it, Captain Gurdon," said Mr 
 Lumley. " I cannot agree with you. Having heard the whole 
 case, I cannot but assent so far to your opinion as to think 
 that one of the two is guilty, but I do not think that one is 
 Stephen Graves." 
 
 " For my part," said Colonel Wilder, " I also think that one 
 or the other of these two lads must surely be the culprit But 
 the evidence is so exactly balanced, that I am wholly unable 
 to say which of the two did it." 
 
 " It remains only," said the Doctor, " that I make one last 
 appeal to the boys themselves. Temple and Graves, whatever 
 doubts there may be in any of our minds, there can be none 
 in yours as to your guilt or innocence. I implore you to speak 
 out and tell the whole truth. Whichever of you may be guilty, 
 the only hope he can have of atoning for his fault, the only 
 mode by which he can avoid doing deeper wrong to his school- 
 fellow than he has already done, is by a full, though it must 
 be added tardy, confession. Nor can he possibly benefit him- 
 self, even so far as this Hawley prize is concerned. The grave 
 cloud of suspicion which rests upon both renders it impossible 
 that I could award it to either of them. Under any circum- 
 stances, indeed, I doubt whether I could do so after what has 
 recently come to light. But it would be wholly impossible 
 while the offender in this matter remains undetected." 
 
 " Speak out, Stephen," said Mr Lumley. " If, as I believe, 
 you are entirely innocent in this matter, it will be the right, as 
 well as wise, course for you to do so. If injustice has been
 
 3/6 Who did it? 
 
 done you, nothing will be so likely to set it right as perfect 
 openness." 
 
 " Speak out, Charley," said Captain Gurdon, stepping up to 
 Temple and laying his hand on the lad's shoulder. " I know 
 you didn't do it. The only thing that can make that seem 
 doubtful, would be your refusal to speak." 
 
 " I am willing to speak now," said Temple. " I did not 
 like to do so before, because I should have got Harry Wilder 
 into trouble. I did go out on the morning of the igth to 
 fetch the pistol-case, which I had left overnight under the 
 arch of the old drain. But I did not shoot Neptune, and I 
 do not know who did." 
 
 " And the compunction which I heard you express to Harry 
 Wilder about the dog's death," said Mr Hepburn. " How do 
 you explain that ? " 
 
 u It was my carelessness in leaving the pistol about, which 
 caused the poor old fellow to be shot," said Temple. " I shall 
 always be sorry for that" 
 
 " And you, Stephen ? " said Mr Lumley. " Will not you 
 be equally explicit ? Did you go out that morning, and how 
 is the tear in your trousers to be accounted for ? " 
 
 " I did go out to fetch the pistols in. I tore the piece 
 out of my trousers against a nafl in getting out of the window. 
 I did not kill the dog. I saw nothing of him as I went back 
 to the house." 
 
 There was again an embarrassed silence. The Doctor seemed 
 about to speak, when suddenly the door was opened, and 
 Burton and Cressingham, accompanied by a lad of their own 
 age, and a tall gentleman, whom all present recognized as Mr 
 Knyvett, entered the room.
 
 TTu Answer at Last. 377 
 
 I declare!' said Coloael wadet "laatw- 
 to see TOV bexe. We vast jov help pattics- 
 
 _!"_ .-. : "_1: :~1~-_T 1." " ' 
 
 * I meant to have been half an boor and me 
 Mi Fj nil, "In* T 
 
 filStDD 2&d T_iiySBBBfTBBBBi1 
 
 But* Where hftWcyDw IfffpBj^ md who B jnv coMpBfflwo^ 
 wiiai? Geo^e GoHgeAIfard! Wfcj, I bend tibat jtm w-c 
 
 b That I had left Eo^aad, Dr Thontoa. So I lad. I 
 
 ; : " ; : : : - . : . - : ; -\~ . ~. ~ -~~ . '-. ~ -~. ::. : ; -.--- 
 
 -~_~ ~ _- _' i__ _ _r r _: r^:: : " ; _ . .-^r. . u.' 
 
 "1 :1 "I .-' ~ -~ ' 1 I T_ 
 
 He stepped op to tbe Captain, wbo wa 
 
 7 _~ .'.:- 1 '-.- '.'.- .".',': 
 
 "I hare to btgjUBi patdan, sic, fiv 
 
 r, as wefl as caosed JOB, I fear, a great deal of 
 
 '---,- 
 
 V..-; .--;. -LI 
 
 k SCHOOl OBVS ~^<j 
 
 * How cooia jco hzw ciQBC ^ 2wi what on JOB 
 do k for?* 
 
 . _ _:._;i:: .;^ -^'.jiz. r*~ 
 
 I. . -: - 
 _f - - - - - -- >- 
 
 fto deooFCB A oo
 
 378 Who did it? 
 
 if he had been seven and thirty instead of seventeen. But 
 situated as he was, it would be hard indeed to blame him, I 
 myself at the same age should, in all likelihood, have done 
 the same." 
 
 George Alford bowed and went on. " I wanted to see 
 Burton, and two boatmen from Wickfield brought me over 
 to Hanger's Cave, where I was fortunate enough to meet 
 Burton alone. I was short of money, and had come to ask 
 if he could help me. He told me he could lend me three 
 or four pounds ; but there would not be time for him to go 
 up to the Priory to fetch them before the house was locked up. 
 I could not go up there myself, because everybody would 
 know me ; and I could not wait till next day, because my 
 ship was to sail from Haverport Roads early on the following 
 morning. Finding it could be managed in no other way, 
 Clement told me that he had accidentally found out, some 
 time before, that there was a mode of getting out of the Priory 
 by a passage which ran through the wall of one of the out- 
 houses in the back-yard " 
 
 " You knew of this passage, Burton ? " said the Doctor in 
 a tone of displeased surprise. " I really did not expect 
 this." 
 
 " I can explain that, sir," said Temple. " Burton saw me 
 coming in that way early one morning a long time ago. I 
 saw him looking out of the window of his bedroom as I came 
 up. His room is the only one in the house which looks that 
 way. I saw plainly that he had discovered the manner by 
 which I had got in, and I expected him to say something 
 to me about it. But he never did, and I am quite sure he has 
 never made any use of it."
 
 The Answer at Last. 379 
 
 " And how did you come to know of it yourself, Temple ? " 
 
 " It was told me by one of the boys several years ago, just 
 before he left," said Temple. " He made me promise I would 
 never say anything about it to any one, till I was just on the 
 point of leaving." 
 
 " I shall see this back way walled up without loss of time. 
 Meanwhile go on, George," 
 
 "Well, sir, Burton said he did not like going out that 
 way, he had never done so, and he meant never to do so. 
 But rather than I should be prevented leaving England, he 
 would get out that way, and meet me early next morning. I 
 daresay it was wrong, sir ; but if so, the blame ought to rest 
 almost entirely on me. I had told Clement what a strait 
 I was in, and we have always been like brothers, you know." 
 
 " He risked his life for me once," said Burton, speaking as 
 it seemed more to himself, than to any one else. " I couldn't 
 refuse to help him." 
 
 There was something like a cheer among the boys, old 
 Captain Gurdon's voice being one of those who applauded. 
 The headmaster checked it, though with a smile, and simply 
 said, " Go on George." 
 
 " Well," resumed Alford. " We remained concealed the 
 two Bowles and myself in Hanger's Cave all night. It was 
 a terrible time, as I daresay you will remember such a storm 
 as hasn't been known they say for years past ; but about three 
 o'clock it lulled, and I went straight up to the Priory. I 
 found I was a little too soon, and kept close to the wall at the 
 back of the house, out of sight of the windows. That was the 
 place you had appointed for our meeting, Clem." 
 
 Burton nodded, and the speaker went on.
 
 380 Who did it? 
 
 " While I was kicking my heels about, I saw lying on the 
 ground, under a small archway, a shallow mahogany box, and 
 I took it up to examine it. I found it was a case containing 
 a brace of very handsome, though old-fashioned pistols. 
 Thinking some one must have lost them, I took out one to 
 see if there was any name or address upon it. All of a mo- 
 ment I heard a sudden rush behind me and was nearly 
 knocked over by a large bloodhound which had seized me by 
 the leg, or rather by the trousers, for my Wellington boots 
 had fortunately been too strong for his teeth to penetrate. I 
 saw that in another moment he would spring at my throat ; 
 and if he were to do so, it would certainly be all over with 
 me. Hardly knowing what I did in the hurry of the moment, 
 I let fly at him with the pistol. The ball, I suppose, must 
 have pierced his heart, for he fell down dead in a moment. 
 I wasn't a bit hurt, though it was a hard job for me to drag 
 my trousers out of the grip of his teeth. I threw the pistol 
 away, and was just going to make a bolt for it, when Clem 
 called to me, and I saw him close by." 
 
 " What is this, Clem ? " I asked. " What dog is that ? " 
 
 " I am sorry to say it is poor Neptune, Captain Gurdon's 
 dog," he answered. "It has been at Holmwood about a 
 year, and is a general favourite. But I saw what happened. 
 You couldn't help it." 
 
 " No, of course he couldn't," said Burton. " The dog, I 
 suppose, saw me as I was crossing the court and followed me. 
 I didn't see or hear him, until just as I was getting out at the 
 end of the drain, and then he pushed by me and sprang upon 
 George before I could interfere. I too think George would 
 have been killed, if he hadn't shot him. I don't think any one
 
 The A nswer at Last. 381 
 
 could be more sorry than I was ; but George only did it to 
 save his life." 
 
 " That is true," said Alford. " I wish I could have gone 
 to Captain Gurdon and told him what had happened. But 
 that, of course, was impossible. Indeed it wouldn't do 
 for me to stay there another minute. Clem just gave me the 
 money ; we shook hands, and I ran off. I found the two 
 Bowles's ready to start. They had got the boat down, and we 
 were off immediately. There was a very heavy swell, and 
 what with that and the strong current round Crawley Point, 
 they only just contrived to reach the Nereid as she was on 
 the very point of starting. I had meant to write a letter to 
 you, Captain Gurdon, explaining all that had happened, but 
 there wasn't a moment in which I could do so. There was 
 only just time to heave my box on board and scramble up 
 myself before she was fairly under weigh. I did write, how- 
 ever, two letters, one to Captain Gurdon the other to Clement, 
 and gave them to the pilot, who promised to post them as 
 soon as he reached the shore. I was afraid, however, from 
 what I learnt afterwards that he was not to be trusted. They 
 said, if I wanted him to take my letters right, I ought not to 
 have paid him beforehand. Any way, I fear you never got 
 the letter, Captain." 
 
 " No, my lad," answered Gurdon. " I didn't got the letter. 
 I wish I had, with all my heart, as it would have saved a deal 
 of trouble and mistake. But, any way, I am glad I have 
 learnt the truth now. Shake hands, George. It's an unlucky 
 .business ; but it would be hard to blame you for it. I know 
 you'd no more willingly have hurt my poor old favourite, than 
 I would myself. I'm very glad, too, to find that my friend,
 
 382 Who did it? 
 
 Charlie Temple, has been suspected without reason. I was as 
 sure as I could be of any thing, that he too would never have 
 hurt poor old Nep intentionally, and if he had done it acci- 
 dentally, would have come and told me of it. I'm also bound 
 to add that I am sorry heartily sorry for having suspected 
 Graves without reason. Graves, I ask your pardon," he con- 
 tinued, walking up to the boy named. " Let us shake hands 
 upon it." 
 
 Graves gave him his hand, though he said nothing. 
 
 " Well then, sir," said Mr Hepburn, " I suppose we may con- 
 clude that this matter is settled and done with, and that I may 
 read out the list of marks, which I made up finally last night ; 
 and that the boy whose name stands at the head of the list 
 will receive the Hawley prize." 
 
 " I cannot quite say that, Mr Hepburn;" said the Doctor 
 gravely. The four head boys in the school are Burton, 
 Temple, Graves, and Cressingham. Most strangely, as well as 
 most unfortunately, very serious matters have been charged 
 against all these four. None of them, I rejoice to think, is 
 guilty of the offence which has caused us so much trouble 
 throughout the last few months. Graves indeed, I consider to 
 deserve no further blame. He has already been punished 
 for the possession of the pistols, and the fact of his having 
 gone out early in the morning to receive them from a person 
 who brought them from the coach office is not a serious enough 
 matter to oblige me to place a second black cross before his 
 name. But I have had no explanation of the strange con- 
 duct of Burton and Cressingham in leaving the house yester- 
 day and remaining out all night " 
 
 " I can explain that, sir," said Alford. " Clement has
 
 The Answer at Last. 383 
 
 :hroughout been anxious that Graves and Temple should be 
 relieved from the unjust suspicion he knew to be hanging over 
 :hem ; but he could not disclose the truth, without betraying 
 me. He has written several times to Frank Knyvett, to ask 
 lim if he had heard anything of my return. A few days ago 
 Frank wrote him word that I should be in Wickfield in two 
 Jays' time ; and so I should have been, if the ship had not 
 Deen delayed four-and-twenty hours at Plymouth. He wrote 
 igain intreating me to come here immediately; and last night, 
 supposing that his letter had miscarried, he set off him- 
 self to Wickfield to find me and bring me here in time 
 ;o-day." 
 
 "Humph!" said the Doctor, " and he reached Wickfield 
 ind passed the night there did he ? " 
 
 "No, sir." He fell in with me on the Green Holm. We 
 jassed the night in the cottage there, and came on this 
 norning." 
 
 " And you, Cressingham ? " pursued the Doctor. 
 
 " I was afraid to let Burton go alone, sir," answered Cres- 
 iingham. 
 
 " Yes, sir," said Burton, " but he did all he could to dissuade 
 ne from going. He thought I was ill, though I was really 
 >nly anxious and uneasy. I tried to persuade him too to stay 
 it home, but he wouldn't." 
 
 " Dr Thornton, you must not be hard on these lads," ex- 
 claimed Mr Lumley. " I should be proud of them if they 
 >elonged to me." 
 
 " And so should I," added Mr Knyvett. 
 
 " I wish I had had two such subs in my regiment," remarked 
 Colonel Wilder.
 
 384 Who did it? 
 
 "Or middies aboard my ship/' supplemented Captain 
 Gurdon. 
 
 " I don't know that I altogether disagree with you," said the 
 headmaster, smiling. " But we have still Temple's case to 
 consider. He too has been acquitted of the grave offence 
 with which he stood charged. But what am I to think of his 
 having gone out by this secret way for an unlawful purpose. 
 I cannot tell how often he may have used it. I know that 
 Mr Hepburn, in whose judgment I greatly confide, has often 
 expressed an opinion about him " 
 
 "May I ask your indulgence for one moment, sir," inter- 
 posed Mr Hepburn. " It is true that I have for years past 
 entertained a very low opinion of Charles Temple an opinion 
 which not even the excellence of his behaviour and his extra- 
 ordinary diligence during the last three months had greatly 
 altered. But I was present accidentally at a conversation 
 between him and his friend Harry Wilder two days ago, which 
 satisfied me that on more than one point I had done him great 
 injustice. As some atonement for that, may I too be per- 
 mitted to request that this last offence may be overlooked. 
 Indeed, I feel that, considering the very trying circumstances 
 under which it was committed, it ought not to be allowed to 
 weigh down the good conduct and hard work of so many 
 weeks." 
 
 " Hepburn, you're a good fellow," exclaimed Captain 
 Gurdon. " Give us your hand and let us be friends. Thornton, 
 I am sure you won't refuse Mr Hepburn's petition." 
 
 " No," said the headmaster. " I see pretty plainly, if I did, 
 I should have every one against me. Well, read out the
 
 The Ansiver at Last. 
 
 register of marks, Mr Hepburn. The first on it, whoever he 
 is, shall have the prize." 
 
 " Then I have to announce," said the usher, " that Temple 
 is the winner, but only by two marks. The numbers are 
 Temple, - 562 
 
 Graves, - 560 
 
 Burton, 539 
 
 I ought to add that Graves's work since August last has been 
 fully as good as that of Temple. He has indeed rather gained 
 upon his antagonist than lost since that time. It was only the 
 accident, if I may so call it, of Temple's being two or three in 
 advance at the commencement of the struggle, which has 
 enabled him to win. Mr Lumley will, I am sure, be glad to 
 hear that." 
 
 " I am, indeed, extremely glad to hear it," said Mr Lumley. 
 " There is an idea, I am told, in the school that Stephen has 
 only worked in this manner in order to earn money enough to 
 buy a gun and pistols, which he has long been anxious to 
 possess. I know from his letters to me that it was a worthier 
 impulse than that, though not perhaps the worthiest of all, that 
 has made him so exert himself. He thought he had been 
 unfairly judged, and wished to prove the fact by his success. 
 I need not say I shall take care that he is well rewarded." 
 "And you, Burton?" said the Doctor. 
 " I am very glad, sir," returned the boy. " I have been 
 afraid for weeks past that Temple would lose this, and it would 
 be most unjust if he did, but I did not know how to help it." 
 " Well," said the Doctor, " I am, after all, inclined to believe 
 that, notwithstanding all these troubles and anxieties, I have 
 reason to be proud of my senior boys. Yet I am inclined to 
 
 2 B
 
 386 Who did it? 
 
 add a word or two nevertheless. Why is it that boys can be 
 faithful to one another, and show generosity and self-denial so 
 far as they are concerned, but cannot display those qualities 
 towards their masters ? Why is it they can trust one another, 
 but cannot trust us? Here is George Alford he was my 
 pupil for many years. So are Burton, Cressingham, Graves, 
 and Temple. When did 1 ever break faith with any one of 
 them ? when did I ever show myself anything but their truest 
 and best friend ? Yet not one of them, it seems, can trust me. 
 George Alford will not come up to the house, for fear I might 
 abuse any confidence he might repose in me. Temple and 
 Graves will neither of them confide to me the true facts of the 
 case I suppose, for the same reason. Burton does not ask me 
 to send over immediately to Wickfield to fetch Alford, or beg 
 me to suspend my decision till Alford arrives. Cressingham, 
 again, allows his friend to go on what he considers a dangerous 
 expedition, and embarks in it himself, rather than reveal his 
 difficulty to me. Yet I could have relieved all these boys 
 from the troubles and anxieties they have been undergoing for 
 months past, and would have done so most willingly. Appar- 
 ently there is a gulf between masters and boys which we in 
 this generation cannot pass. All I can hope is that they who 
 shall come after us may prove more successful." 
 
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 Madelon. By ESTHER CARR. 
 
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 Geoftry's Great Fault. 
 Seaside Home. 
 
 Stolen Cherries. 
 
 What became of Tommy.
 
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 28 EDUCATIONAL WORKS 
 
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 HISTORY AS A CLASS SUBJECT. 
 
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 True Stories from Ancient History, chronologically arranged from 
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