Acton's Feud: A Public School Story

by Mrs. George de Horne Vaizey

  CHAPTER XIV

  IN THE STABLE

  After tea that day Acton went down to the farm _solus_, not having,as you will presently see, any need of Jack's company, even if Bourne hadfelt any desire to accompany him, which he didn't.

  The monitor tinkled his bell, and in answer to the ringing, Raffleslounged out of a barn, the inseparable Warmint trotting at his master'sheels.

  "Suppose we'd better go into the stable, Raffles."

  The odour of the Coon's afternoon cigar still hung about the place, andthe stable was half dark, but as Acton had an idea that his conversationwith Raffles would not be a short one, and the night was rather cold,they went in.

  "Fire away, Raffles. Start at the beginning."

  "Very good, sir," said Raffles, seating himself on the corn-chest."Agreeable to instructions received from Mr. Acting----"

  "Acton," suggested that gentleman.

  "Acting--I said so, didn't I? Very well! Agreeable to instructionsreceived from you, sir, I prepared----"

  "Don't be so beastly legal, you ass!"

  "Let a cove tell 'is tale 'is own way, sir. We'll get on better likethat. As I was going to say, following your tip, I prepared to show thatyoung shaver, Bourne, a few things which as you told me he ought not toknow of, and to do a few things which you told me he ought not to do--infact, to put him on the way of breakin' every blessed rule that that beakof your school 'as drawn up for the guidance of the youth and thebeauties under 'is 'and. What's the name of the beak, sir?"

  "Oh, Moore!" said Acton, impatiently.

  "The young shaver spoke of 'im different."

  "Corker, perhaps," said Acton.

  "That's it," continued Raffles. "Well, Corker 'asn't got a thoroughbredgreenhorn in Bourne, Mr. Acting."

  "No. Young Bourne's head is on his shoulders, more or less. Get on."

  "Well, we opened the ball with a little bunny-shootin', for he couldn'tstand Warmint's workin' among the rats. He shoots moderate straight, so Idoctored his cartridges, or he'd have cleared out the bank. Not more thantwo in the half-dozen, sir. And then he couldn't understand it. Whatmight Corker say to the bunnies, sir?"

  "Oh, a thrashing, perhaps, and a stringing up for the rest of the term."

  "We went to the Blue Cow on wet days. Billiards, beer, and 'baccy, Mr.Acting, was the true bill there. What's the law on those fancy articles?"

  "A thrashing for first course, and _et ceteras_ which you wouldn'tunderstand."

  "Well, he's earned 'em. We couldn't do any betting on the horses, sincethe Lincolnshire Handicap is not in sight yet, but he fluttered a littleon the Sporting Club matches; and he was lucky--more than ordinary."

  "You didn't wing him there, then?"

  "Nothing to speak of. He may have dropped half a sov. altogether, but Idoubt it."

  "Then, Raffles, you're a fool. Do you think I brought you down here to bemoral instructor to young Bourne, you grey old badger? Couldn't you bagan innocent of sixteen or so? Besides, what the deuce do you mean bytipping me the wink as Bourne and I used to get on our 'bikes'? Youalways did it, and I thought you were winding up the youngster hand overhand."

  "Them winks," said Raffles, diplomatically, "was meant to show that I wasmoving--moving slow, but sure. You've observed, Mr. Acting, yourself, as'ow the young shaver had a head on 'is shoulders."

  "Yes, but I didn't bargain for yours being off your shoulders."

  "Well, what with bunnies, cartridges, and the Blue Cow, and the otherextras, he is about cleaned out now."

  "Cleaned out!" said Acton, with intense irritation. "That's not what Iwanted. I told you distinctly that I must have him five pounds deep atthe least. How can I engineer my schemes if my sharpers can't cut? You'lllook blue, Raffles, when I settle your account, take my word for it."

  "Not quite so quick off the mark, Mr. Acting. What do you value thispiece of ironmongery at?"

  Raffles fished up the gun which had burst in Jack's hands that afternoonfrom behind the corn-chest, and held it up to the light.

  "A burst gun!" said Acton. "It's worth throwing away; no more."

  "It was worth this morning, say fifteen bob, before Bourne blew its ribsout."

  "Jove!" said Acton, "let me handle the thing." He looked at the tornbreech, and whistled with involuntary horror. "Much of a squeak,Raffles?"

  "Touch and go, sir. He'll never be nearer pegging out than he was thisafternoon; for he scraped the gates of his family buryin'-place, in amanner of speakin.' It went clean through his hat--rim and crown."

  "Did he know his luck?"

  "Nobody better."

  "He looked more than average queer as we trotted home. I thought he wasdigesting your little bill, Raffles."

  "No; he only owes me a matter of shillin's. But I could say that Iticketed the gun at L5 or L6, when the old shooter wasn't worth----"

  "Fifteen bob," said Acton, looking at the worn barrel.

  "See where I have--where you have--the youngster tied neatly up? He owesme--or you--seven, eight, nine pounds, or any fancy figure I--or you--like to mention for that old piece of iron there."

  "Raffles, we're in luck! Luck has served me better than all your downywork."

  "It has," said that bright specimen of humanity, regretfully. "I can'tpretend that I'd any hand in the blowing out of them blessed barrels."

  "All right, Raffles; don't weep. You'd have done it, of course, if you'dthought about it," said Acton, with a curious sneer; "but this is myplan--as far as you're concerned. When young Bourne comes, you're to askfor L7 10s. And you're to be an adamantine Jew; you're to have the moneyinstanter, or there'll be a rumpus."

  "I twig. Make it seven guineas, though," said Raffles, generously.

  "Seven guineas! So be it. You can suggest that, unless you get the cash,you would see Moore."

  "Corker, D.D.? I'm on."

  "Or Bourne, senior."

  "The shaver's brother. I'm tumbling to the dodge."

  "Bourne will curl up at this."

  "Naturally."

  "But you're still the blood-thirsty Jew."

  "Moses, and Aaron, and the rest."

  "You'll suggest at last that I be tackled for a loan."

  "And you'll lend it him!" said Raffles, with an unspeakable leer.

  "The business wants careful handling, remember. Young Bourne will thinktwice about borrowing, and, perhaps, if he could keep me out of it, wouldstand your racket, or Corker's either. So drive him lightly."

  "You'll see him on the borrowing tack to-morrow, Mr. Acting."

  "And the rest is my business."

  "Where do I come in?"

  "You can cleave to the seven guineas--if you earn 'em."

  "Seven pounds ten, Mr. Acting."

  "Seven pound seven, Mr. Raffles. Your own proposal."

  "Orl right," said Raffles, resignedly. "I think I know them ropes."

  "Good!" said Acton. "Then you can scuttle now to Rotherhithe, or where thedeuce else you like. I'm off."

  Acton wheeled out his bicycle and melted into the gathering dark, and hisjackal lurched off to the station and reached Rotherhithe to dream of hisseven guineas which he was going to get. Raffles felt sure of those sevenguineas.