Kitabı oku: «King of Ranleigh: A School Story», sayfa 8
CHAPTER IX
HONESTY'S THE BEST POLICY
The short run from the spot where the poor fellow driving the rival car in which Rawlings and Trendall had been passengers had met with his death was anything but a pleasant experience for Clive and his comrades. In the first place, Higgins, hitherto reckless as to his driving, now went at a snail's pace, as if he were in a funeral procession. And then there were two additional passengers in the car. The boys eyed one another in silence. Susanne, as if to break the spell, and careless now, as ever, of the lost authority of Rawlings, fixed his monocle upon that worthy reflectively.
"Best 'op as soon as we gets to the common," suddenly cried Higgins over his shoulder. They heard the brake grind. The car came to a standstill. Then the rascally driver turned upon them, thrust his cap to the back of his head and invited all to listen.
"See 'ere, young gents," he began. "Just at this point you gets off and 'ops it up to the school."
"Yes." Susanne answered him in a mono-syllable, though his brows were furrowed and his eyes scowling. Rawlings slid from the car, and Trendall likewise. Then the others followed, till they were gathered around the bonnet.
"Well?" demanded Susanne curtly.
"And jest at this 'ere point I goes right off to the village. See?"
"No," declared Susanne and Clive together, obstinately determined to give the fellow no encouragement, for they guessed at what was coming.
"There isn't anything to see," said Bert coldly. "The thing's plain. You're here at this spot. We divide. You go off to the village and there give information to the police."
"That's just where you're off it," cried Higgins at once, savagely, "and don't you get a layin' down the law to me, Mr. Seymour. I 'ops it to the village, and I says nothing. I leaves it to the police to find out what's happened. I didn't cause that accident. It was the steering gear that broke and upset the car. So it's no fault of mine. You ain't fools, you young gents?"
"No," declared Rawlings eagerly, for he was listening.
"Certainly not," ventured Trendall.
"Depends," said Susanne. "Go on."
"And no one knows as Mister Rawlings and Mr. Trendall were on that car. Yer see, it's only them as you've got to think of. It ain't known as they was there. My car don't come into the question. So I says, just 'ere we 'ops it and says nothing."
"Quite so. Hear, hear!" cried Rawlings, plucking up a vestige of courage.
"And supposing we're asked," demanded Masters, looking Rawlings coolly up and down till that immaculate young fellow felt intensely uncomfortable. "Eh?"
"We know nothing," said Rawlings and Higgins together.
"Nothing whatever," declared the latter with emphasis. "Not a word. We wasn't out on the car. We wasn't at the meeting. We don't know nuffin' about the death of that poor cove."
"And why should we?" chimed in Trendall. "We're not responsible. It isn't as if he had been murdered. The car overturned, and Rawlings and I were jolly lucky. The police won't need any explanation. There! That satisfies you, eh?"
Clive Darrell went a dull red as he listened to this conversation. He had forgotten for the moment the fact that Old B. had seen the car at the meeting, and that he alone could put the police on the right track if information were needed. To Clive it did not seem that there was any other action than a straight one. For supposing some other driver of a motor-car were accused of having caused this fatal accident? It was quite possible. Then the position would be dreadful. And in any case, though he was ready for a lark at any time, and would doubtless break bounds on many another occasion, still he wasn't going to lie to save his own skin or that of Higgins, Trendall, or Rawlings.
"Come on, Susanne," he said coldly, tucking his arm within his friend's.
"Good day, Higgins."
"Good day," repeated Masters, linking his arm in Clive's.
"Er, good evening," cried Bert and Hugh together.
"'Ere! Stop!" shouted Higgins, his face aflame with passion.
"Well?" asked Susanne placidly; for he had the most even of tempers.
"Do I understand as you four's a goin' ter give us three way?" demanded the ruffianly Higgins, squaring up to them in threatening manner, while the Old Firm stood arm in arm watching him closely. "Eh?"
"You have managed to gather something of our meaning, at any rate," replied Susanne, without raising his voice in the slightest.
"Then you're going to give information yourselves?" asked Rawlings, two spots of red colour in his otherwise pallid cheeks, his eyes blazing.
"In other words, you're going to act like a parcel of fools and sneaks," shouted Trendall, his temper aroused like that of Higgins'.
"One moment?" asked Susanne coolly. "You really take the words out of my mouth. Our action will be decided after discussion. If the police want information, as seems certain, we shall volunteer it. I am not quite sure that we shall not at once report the circumstances. In any case, we do not intend to lie. As for you, Rawlings and Trendall – you must do as you like. Your movements and your actions have no interest for me and these other fellows."
"You mean, then, that if you're asked who were in that other car you won't say?" demanded Rawlings eagerly, breathlessly in fact.
"Certainly, that is, if the request comes from the school authorities. If from the police it is a different matter. Now you know. Lie as much as you care to yourself. This firm don't go in for dirty behaviour of that sort."
The great and placid Susanne carefully focussed his monocle upon the figure of the prefect, regarded him, from the sole of his dusty boots to the crown of his somewhat damaged bowler, with something akin to scorn, and then set out for the school with his comrades. They left the trio behind them in earnest conversation, a conversation which, before it was ended, became somewhat heated. Nor did it bode much good to Clive and his comrades. It may be said, indeed, that all Rawlings' vindictiveness was centred upon the young fellow who lived so close to him at home. But in the case of Trendall we are bound to confess that the condition of his mind was essentially wavering. To commence with, at heart he was a better and a more generous-minded fellow than Rawlings. And then, try as he might, he could not forget his indebtedness to Susanne. Rawlings had chided him for it. He had argued against that feeling as unnatural.
"Feel as if you ought to be grateful!" he had scoffed now on many an occasion, for he was ever fearful of losing the alliance. Rawlings had, indeed, felt the coldness of his fellows for many a day after that episode on the ice. Fellows who had been quite content to know him before, to be even jovial with him, though never actually friendly, were now always busy when he happened to accost them, and hurried off. Or they turned cold looks upon him, which sent him off with his tail between his legs and his lips muttering. Trendall might do the same. Susanne and his friends had helped to save his life. Trendall had even thanked them, though lamely it must be admitted.
"Call that saving your life! Rot!" Rawlings had told him. "What followed? For a week and more the chaps were never tired of hooting you. They told you that you had acted like a muff. That you had nearly drowned the whole party. And now you speak of gratitude, and to fellows such as they are."
It was always the memory of the uncomfortable and indisputable fact that Ranleighans had jeered at him that turned all Trendall's better intentions and feelings to gall and wormwood. Hyper-sensitive where his own dignity was concerned, and having for a long while had perforce to put up with a great deal of chaff, he had found, up to that affair of the ice, that friendship with Rawlings improved his position. There are snobs in every school, we suppose. Rawlings was decidedly one. Trendall was, perhaps, another. In any case, alliance with Rawlings had brought him comfort and affluence, for his friend was blessed with even more money than was the case with Susanne. And chaff had ceased, for Rawlings was free with his hands and feet. But that ice episode had set fellows jeering. Trendall forgot a natural gratitude to Susanne and his friends in the bitterness of the ridicule poured on him, and this, fanned by Rawlings, made him almost as great an enemy as was that immaculate but detestable young fellow.
"So we sticks together, eh?" asked Higgins, as the trio were about to separate. "If them young sneaks says as you was in that car, I says you wasn't. If I'm axed who was there, why, I don't know."
A ponderous wink and an ugly leer accompanied this statement.
"But I knows who was along with me, oh, yes, I knows all about that. I was going to Guildford shopping, yes, and these here youngsters sees me and asks for a ride. I gives it to 'em. Yes. That's right. And their names is Feofé, Masters, Darrell and two Seymours. You're clear, Mr. Rawlings. Thank ye, sir. Sovereigns is useful every time. You say as there'll be another by the end of the week?"
"When my allowance comes; but on conditions."
"In course. Conditions that I gives them young sneaks away and knows nothing about you."
The conspiracy thus hatched boded ill for Clive and his fellows, for when one began to analyse the circumstances of the case, it would be their word against that of Higgins. Whereas he stated that they had hailed him on the road, their statement would be that he had taken them by arrangement. If they said in addition that Rawlings and Trendall were in the second car, Higgins would strenuously deny the statement, and there again there would be conflict of testimony, which would be useless to convict either of the two. Gold had, in fact, won over the rascally Higgins, just as it may win over any similar scoundrel. Rawlings felt that his money had been well expended, and he followed Clive and his friends to the school in a distinctly calmer frame of mind. The trouble which had been staring him in the face was gone. He was chuckling at the fix into which Susanne and his band would certainly tumble.
"We've just to sit tight and keep our mouths shut, Trendall," he said. "Of course, we shall have to appear indignant at the charge, and – ah, that's lucky, we shall want an alibi."
"Eh? How much? What's an alibi?"
"Duffer! Someone to prove that we were elsewhere."
"Higgins then."
"Idiot!" Rawlings rounded on him angrily. "How can he prove that when he was off at the flying meeting? What about Tunstall?"
Tunstall was another of the same kidney as Higgins. Ranleigh was, in fact, at this period, somewhat unlucky in this particular, for Tunstall was one of those oily wretches ever on the look out for favours from anyone. In a smaller way than Higgins he had more than once procured contraband articles for Ranleighans, and was ready at any time to do a service. Better, too, for Rawlings' purpose, he occupied a shop somewhat isolated and away from the village. A prefect had the right to go there. Doubtless the fact of his taking a friend would be overlooked.
"He's the very man," agreed Trendall. "But – look here, Rawlings, I don't like all this business. Supposing it were found out?"
He never thought of the dishonesty of it all. Like his friend, he feared only the consequences of discovery.
"Rot! Of course the thing'll pass. Don't be an ass," growled Rawlings. "Let's sprint off at once. We've time to see him now and still be in for call-over."
Everything seemed to be working in their favour, for the wily Tunstall was at home, and tumbled to their meaning instantly. He was a shock-headed, unkempt individual, with a crooked back and a chin which seemed to have settled down on his chest from infancy. A straggling beard depended from the same chin, while long, untidy eyebrows overshadowed a pair of cunning orbs.
"Say as you was here the whole afternoon, a drinkin' corfee and sich like; of course, Mr. Rawlings," he leered, "but – well, yer see, bein' only a poor man, with this here shop to depend on, I can't afford to give nuffin away, don't yer see, nuffin, not even a promise."
"But we'll make that all right," came the instant and eager response. "Look here, Tunstall, what's it worth?"
The wily one screwed his eyes up till his long brows mingled almost with his unkempt beard. "What's it worth? Well, see here, supposin' I don't stick to the tale. Supposin' – But you ain't yet told me why you've axed for this here alibi. Is it a robbery?"
"A robbery!" shouted Trendall angrily, his fat cheeks wabbling and flushing red. "What do you take us for?"
Tunstall might easily have replied that he took them for what they showed themselves to be. But he had his own terms to make, and caution was necessary.
"No offence, gents," he said silkily. "No offence, I'm sure. I wasn't thinkin' that, of course. But what's the reason for wantin' this here alibi? You've got into some sort o' mess, I suppose. What mess, then? I has to ask, 'cos I has to protect myself, and besides, though I may only keep a small shop, I've got me own feelin's, and me own pride."
The task was not so easy a one as Rawlings imagined. Or, to be precise, that young gentleman was not half as clever as he thought himself. Had he been so he would have seen through the artifices of this rascal at once, and would not have shown concern at his lack of keenness to undertake the work asked of him.
"I'll – I'll make it worth your while, Tunstall," he said desperately. "As to the cause, why, we've been to Guildford. There was an accident on the way back. The steering gear of the car went wrong and we were turned over. That man Ranger, who was driving, was killed. Now, the police will find him and the car on the road. It's plain he was killed by accident, and there's not the smallest need for our names to appear. All we could do would be to corroborate the story of the accident. But we don't want to do that, for we'd been breaking bounds. Now, a sovereign if you help us."
Tunstall held out a grimy palm.
"Put it there, sir," he leered. "I'll swear as you was here all day a drinkin' corfee and – "
"Not all day," Trendall corrected him. "We came just before twelve and left at three. That makes it impossible for us to have been at Guildford."
"Then you come here at twelve and left at three. You was drinkin' corfee and jawin' and what not. Put it there, Mr. Rawlings."
"I can't now, but at the end of the week," came the lame answer. "I've given my last sovereign to-day. But I'll easily get more, and – "
"Oh, ho!" cried Tunstall, looking cunningly at them. "You ain't got the stuff on you, but you've got promises. Well, any man is rich with them. Gold's gold, Mr. Rawlings, and without it a man can't speak, nor take risks, which is a deal more, I can tell ye."
"But – what do you mean?" asked Rawlings desperately, afraid to lose his temper and abuse the man. "My word is good enough, surely? If I say I will pay you a pound, that money is as good as paid."
"In course. In course, sir. But gold's gold, as I've said. Promises ain't worth half, or even that. I could ha' done this here job for twenty shillings, but for a promise of twenty, no. It ain't possible."
"Then how much?" asked Trendall, his fat cheeks shaking with apprehension, for he could now see the importance of possessing an alibi. "How much for the job?"
"Five quid. Not a penny less," came the leering rejoinder.
The mention of such a sum caused the two Ranleighans to stare hard at one another. Rawlings' brow was deeply furrowed, his eyes had a far-away look. Trendall watched him anxiously. For his part five pounds was out of the question. Masters could have raised such a sum almost as easily, and that was saying a lot, for Masters was for ever grumbling at the smallness of his allowance, and the meanness of his people. But Rawlings had a wealthy father, one, too, who boasted of the expense caused by an expensive son. He liked to feel that his offspring was cutting a dash, and for that purpose gave him ample funds. Still, even he might kick if too great a demand were made.
"Got it!" cried Rawlings, snapping his fingers with delight. "Five pounds, you said, Tunstall?"
"That's the figure. It couldn't be done at a halfpenny less."
"There's that parting present we're giving to Tarton, the 'Stinks' master," suggested Rawlings. "They're asking for subscriptions to the fund, and – "
"You could get it for that, eh?" demanded Trendall eagerly.
"Easily. Tell the Governor I want to do the thing well. He'll never be any the wiser, and'll never ask questions. Very well, Tunstall, it's a big price, but I'll pay it. Five pounds for the job, half as soon as my next allowance arrives, the rest before the term's ended."
The wretch looked at him artfully, his eyes screwed up to narrow slits again.
"You promise?"
"Certainly."
"On yer – on yer honour?"
"What next! Of course!" growled Trendall. "As if we were likely to break our word."
"I dunno. I dunno," muttered Tunstall, but so that they could hear. "Honour's a great word with you gents, and me and the likes of me don't understand it. But I should ha' thought that young chaps as wanted a job o' this sort done hadn't – well, five pound then, half within a week, the rest as you say."
A flash of indignant anger in Rawlings' eye, and a sudden heightening of Trendall's colour, had warned him to refrain from further speaking. He nodded to them both and showed them out obsequiously. As for the two who were to pay him for this job, they slunk away from the shop as if they were afraid of their own shadows. That last unmeant thrust on the part of Tunstall had gone home with a vengeance.
"The cheek of the brute," growled Rawlings. "What'd he mean about honour? What business is it of his, anyway? Eh?"
But in their heart of hearts they knew that the thrust was deserved. What honour could they have, indeed, when they were parties to such double dealing? However, a sharp run up to the school made them forget the incident. They were in good time for call-over, and went in to tea as if nothing unusual had happened. By the following morning they had persuaded themselves that their fears had been needlessly aroused, and that their precautions were unnecessary.
"Wish I hadn't been quite so free with that fellow Higgins," Rawlings whispered to Trendall as they went into Chapel. "The chances are the police have found the car and the man, and have decided that it was an easily explained accident. There was the broken steering gear to tell them its cause, and nothing to show that there was another car there or anyone else in the wrecked car, for that matter. I'm sorry about that sov. As to Tunstall, of course, if he don't have to swear an alibi, why, he won't get his money."
But breakfast brought a decided change to the situation. The meal was ended, "knock up" had sounded, this latter being a sharp rap given on the table occupied by the masters up on the dais. It called for silence, while Harvey made the round of the hall, inspecting table linen. Then followed grace as a rule, and immediately after the boys filed out of the Hall in regular order. Now, of a sudden, a familiar figure bounced on to the dais. It was the Headmaster. Dead silence followed, silence in which Rawlings could hear his heart thumping. It palpitated a moment later when the Head began to speak. He stood in the middle of the dais, his head thrown back, his eyes apparently closed, a smile on his face which might have deceived the unwary. But Ranleighans knew that something unpleasant was coming. The acidity of his tones even more than the words told them of his great displeasure.
"There was an accident on the road from Guildford yesterday," he said. "A man was killed. Certain Ranleigh boys were there. They will step forward."
Clive felt as if his legs would not support him. It was all very well to have formed resolutions, but acting up to them was an altogether different matter. He quaked. The severe tones of the Head, his austere manner, his obvious displeasure alarmed him. Clive hesitated. He looked across at Susanne, and saw that young fellow actually grinning. And then he took heart. He clambered over the long form between which and the table he was standing, and marched toward the dais. Susanne was already in motion. Masters followed close behind him, wearing a woebegone expression, while Bert and Hugh brought up the rear, their faces flushed with excitement.
"Ah! Five of you. You were present at this accident?"
"Yes, sir," came from Susanne, a wonderful ally on such a stern occasion.
"Yes, sir," repeated the others.
"And you declare that the cause of this man's death was due purely to accident?"
"Certainly," from Susanne.
"Decidedly," from Masters.
"Yes, sir," from Clive and the others.
"There were others present in the car in which you were riding? Darrell, answer the question."
"The driver only, sir," Clive managed to blurt out.
"Ah! His name, Feofé?"
"Higgins, sir."
"But that is not the name of the man who was killed. Explain!" demanded the Head severely, opening his eyes to thrust a glance at the culprits.
"No, sir. We were in another car. The accident occurred after we had passed," Bert took upon himself to explain.
"Ah! That is clear enough. There were two cars. You boys had broken bounds and had been to the meeting at Guildford on the one driven by Higgins. What boys were in the other?"
No answer. Susanne was gazing over the head of the chief of Ranleigh at the glazed windows beyond. Clive looked decidedly frightened. Masters appeared not to have heard the question. For Bert and Hugh, their faces were impassive.
"I will put the question differently. There were Ranleigh boys in the other car, were there not?" demanded the Head curtly. "Masters, answer."
"Yes, sir."
Down in the body of the hall Rawlings and Trendall began to tremble. The critical moment was arriving. They must stand to their guns, and when those sneaks on the dais had mentioned their names, they must declare their innocence. It would be perfectly all right. They had that alibi. Higgins would also declare in their favour.
"And you recognised them? Feofé, answer."
"Yes, sir."
"Then their names, if you please. Seymour Primus, you will give them."
A stony silence followed. You could have heard a pin dropping. Boys in the body of the Hall hardly dared to breathe, while Rawlings and his crony found the strain almost intolerable.
"Then, Feofé? Those names."
Silence once more. Not a syllable from the Frenchman.
"Then, Darrell? Seymour Secundus?"
The Head swung round and beckoned to someone outside the door through which he had entered, one admitting directly on to the dais. There was a trying interval during which not a foot was stirred. Never had Ranleigh school remained assembled in such a deathly silence. Even Old B., standing so close to the Head, seemed to feel it. His face was flushed a dull red. His eyes were blinking. The fair giant looked decidedly uncomfortable. And then the tension was relieved. Carfort, the school butler, appeared with a cane of vast proportions beneath his arm, and handed it to the Head.
"Now we will proceed," said that worthy, regarding the culprits and the whole school icily. "You boys know what to expect if you refuse to answer. I ask you once again for the names of the two Ranleigh boys who were in that other car. They should have come forward at the first. They have failed to do so. Give me their names."
Silence. Nothing but stony silence. Susanne looked as if he were whistling. Clive's head was held high and haughtily. Masters wore the sort of look he usually had when receiving another dose of "impots." And then the school was electrified by another demand.
"Rawlings and Trendall, stand forward," cried the Head. "You others go to your places. Dismiss the school, please, Mr. Perkins. Rawlings and Trendall, who were in that other car, who witnessed the accident I have referred to, and who disgracefully failed to come forward, those two will go at once to my room. There they will be dealt with."
The school gasped. Clive felt as if a ton weight had of a sudden been shifted from his shoulders. He watched the forlorn figures of Rawlings and Trendall shambling after the Headmaster.
