CHAPTER XXIV
CAUGHT
"Got some rather bad news for you, I'm afraid," began Mr. Appleby."I'll smoke, if you don't mind. About Wyatt."
"James!"
"I was sitting in my garden a few minutes ago, having a pipe beforefinishing the rest of my papers, and Wyatt dropped from the wall on tomy herbaceous border."
Mr. Appleby said this with a tinge of bitterness. The thing stillrankled.
"James! In your garden! Impossible. Why, it is not a quarter of anhour since I left him in his dormitory."
"He's not there now."
"You astound me, Appleby. I am astonished."
"So was I."
"How is such a thing possible? His window is heavily barred."
"Bars can be removed."
"You must have been mistaken."
"Possibly," said Mr. Appleby, a little nettled. Gaping astonishment isalways apt to be irritating. "Let's leave it at that, then. Sorry tohave disturbed you."
"No, sit down, Appleby. Dear me, this is most extraordinary.Exceedingly so. You are certain it was James?"
"Perfectly. It's like daylight out of doors."
Mr. Wain drummed on the table with his fingers.
"What shall I do?"
Mr. Appleby offered no suggestion.
"I ought to report it to the headmaster. That is certainly the courseI should pursue."
"I don't see why. It isn't like an ordinary case. You're the parent.You can deal with the thing directly. If you come to think of it, aheadmaster's only a sort of middleman between boys and parents. Heplays substitute for the parent in his absence. I don't see why youshould drag in the master at all here."
"There is certainly something in what you say," said Mr. Wain onreflection.
"A good deal. Tackle the boy when he comes in, and have it out withhim. Remember that it must mean expulsion if you report him to theheadmaster. He would have no choice. Everybody who has ever broken outof his house here and been caught has been expelled. I should stronglyadvise you to deal with the thing yourself."
"I will. Yes. You are quite right, Appleby. That is a very good ideaof yours. You are not going?"
"Must. Got a pile of examination papers to look over. Good-night."
"Good-night."
Mr. Appleby made his way out of the window and through the gate intohis own territory in a pensive frame of mind. He was wondering whatwould happen. He had taken the only possible course, and, if only Wainkept his head and did not let the matter get through officially to theheadmaster, things might not be so bad for Wyatt after all. He hopedthey would not. He liked Wyatt. It would be a thousand pities, hefelt, if he were to be expelled. What would Wain do? What would_he_ do in a similar case? It was difficult to say. Probably talkviolently for as long as he could keep it up, and then consider theepisode closed. He doubted whether Wain would have the common sense todo this. Altogether it was very painful and disturbing, and he wastaking a rather gloomy view of the assistant master's lot as he satdown to finish off the rest of his examination papers. It was not allroses, the life of an assistant master at a public school. He hadcontinually to be sinking his own individual sympathies in the claimsof his duty. Mr. Appleby was the last man who would willingly havereported a boy for enjoying a midnight ramble. But he was the last manto shirk the duty of reporting him, merely because it was onedecidedly not to his taste.
Mr. Wain sat on for some minutes after his companion had left,pondering over the news he had heard. Even now he clung to the ideathat Appleby had made some extraordinary mistake. Gradually he beganto convince himself of this. He had seen Wyatt actually in bed aquarter of an hour before--not asleep, it was true, but apparently onthe verge of dropping off. And the bars across the window had lookedso solid.... Could Appleby have been dreaming? Something of the kindmight easily have happened. He had been working hard, and the nightwas warm....
Then it occurred to him that he could easily prove or disprove thetruth of his colleague's statement by going to the dormitory andseeing if Wyatt were there or not. If he had gone out, he would hardlyhave returned yet.
He took a candle, and walked quietly upstairs.
Arrived at his step-son's dormitory, he turned the door-handle softlyand went in. The light of the candle fell on both beds. Mike wasthere, asleep. He grunted, and turned over with his face to the wallas the light shone on his eyes. But the other bed was empty. Applebyhad been right.
If further proof had been needed, one of the bars was missing from thewindow. The moon shone in through the empty space.
The house-master sat down quietly on the vacant bed. He blew thecandle out, and waited there in the semi-darkness, thinking. For yearshe and Wyatt had lived in a state of armed neutrality, broken byvarious small encounters. Lately, by silent but mutual agreement, theyhad kept out of each other's way as much as possible, and it hadbecome rare for the house-master to have to find fault officially withhis step-son. But there had never been anything even remotelyapproaching friendship between them. Mr. Wain was not a man whoinspired affection readily, least of all in those many years youngerthan himself. Nor did he easily grow fond of others. Wyatt he hadregarded, from the moment when the threads of their lives becameentangled, as a complete nuisance.
It was not, therefore, a sorrowful, so much as an exasperated, vigilthat he kept in the dormitory. There was nothing of the sorrowingfather about his frame of mind. He was the house-master about to dealwith a mutineer, and nothing else.
This breaking-out, he reflected wrathfully, was the last straw.Wyatt's presence had been a nervous inconvenience to him for years.The time had come to put an end to it. It was with a comfortablefeeling of magnanimity that he resolved not to report the breach ofdiscipline to the headmaster. Wyatt should not be expelled. But heshould leave, and that immediately. He would write to the bank beforehe went to bed, asking them to receive his step-son at once; and theletter should go by the first post next day. The discipline of thebank would be salutary and steadying. And--this was a particularlygrateful reflection--a fortnight annually was the limit of the holidayallowed by the management to its junior employees.
Mr. Wain had arrived at this conclusion, and was beginning to feel alittle cramped, when Mike Jackson suddenly sat up.
"Hullo!" said Mike.
"Go to sleep, Jackson, immediately," snapped the house-master.
Mike had often heard and read of people's hearts leaping to theirmouths, but he had never before experienced that sensation ofsomething hot and dry springing in the throat, which is what reallyhappens to us on receipt of a bad shock. A sickening feeling that thegame was up beyond all hope of salvation came to him. He lay downagain without a word.
What a frightful thing to happen! How on earth had this come about?What in the world had brought Wain to the dormitory at that hour? Poorold Wyatt! If it had upset _him_ (Mike) to see the house-masterin the room, what would be the effect of such a sight on Wyatt,returning from the revels at Neville-Smith's!
And what could he do? Nothing. There was literally no way out. Hismind went back to the night when he had saved Wyatt by a brilliant_coup_. The most brilliant of _coups_ could effect nothing now.Absolutely and entirely the game was up.
* * * * *
Every minute that passed seemed like an hour to Mike. Dead silencereigned in the dormitory, broken every now and then by the creak ofthe other bed, as the house-master shifted his position. Twelve boomedacross the field from the school clock. Mike could not help thinkingwhat a perfect night it must be for him to be able to hear the strokesso plainly. He strained his ears for any indication of Wyatt'sapproach, but could hear nothing. Then a very faint scraping noisebroke the stillness, and presently the patch of moonlight on the floorwas darkened.
At that moment Mr. Wain relit his candle.
The unexpected glare took Wyatt momentarily aback. Mike saw him start.Then he seemed to recover himself. In a calm and leisurely manner heclimbed into the room.
"James!" s
aid Mr. Wain. His voice sounded ominously hollow.
Wyatt dusted his knees, and rubbed his hands together. "Hullo, is thatyou, father!" he said pleasantly.
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