The Hero of Garside School

by J. Harwood Panting

  CHAPTER VIII

  FOR THE SAKE OF A CHUM

  Nine--half-past! The clock in the tower had chimed the half-hour whenlights were out in Paul's dormitory. In the senior dormitories therewere only four beds--two less than in the junior. In that where Paulslept there were, therefore, three other occupants besidehimself--Stanley Moncrief, Waterman, and Parfitt.

  Parfitt was not on particularly good terms with most of the fellows. Hewas one of Newall's cronies. Waterman was an easy-going fellow, who wason friendly terms with everybody, so long as they did not disturb himtoo much. He was one of those indolent boys, with plenty of talent, ifthey only care to exercise it. The disposition to do so, however, onlycame by fits and starts. In another respect, too, he was like a greatmany other boys--ay, and girls, too--and that was--he would often go toa great deal more pains to avoid a difficulty than it would have causedhim by boldly facing it. So true is the proverb that lazy people oftentake most pains.

  Ten o'clock! Paul looked from his bed. There was the bed in whichStanley ought to have been sleeping--empty! Next to that, Waterman. Hehad been asleep for some time. Beyond his bed was Parfitt's.

  Was he sleeping? Paul was not quite certain, but he thought he was. Itwould be better to wait a little longer, however. There was no hurry.

  He could see in outline, on the wall beyond Parfitt's bed, the motto forthe year, "Be ye stedfast, unmovable." He liked that motto. It hadappealed to him when he had first seen it on the wall, and he had oftenrepeated it to himself since. He had repeated it frequently to himselfthat night.

  "Be ye stedfast"--stedfast to his friend.

  The empty bed beside him made him sad. Stan ought to have been restingthere. By the stern decree of Mr. Weevil he had been turned from hisbed, and was at that moment a prisoner, in solitary confinement. Forwhat? Simply because he had refused to speak. Oh, it was bitterlyunjust. If any one ought to have been sent to Dormitory X it was Newall,but he had escaped without even a word of blame.

  Half-past ten! Paul listened again. He felt certain that Parfitt was atlast sleeping; so he slipped out of bed as he had slipped into it--withhis trousers and stockings on. He drew on his coat; opened the dormitorydoor, and glanced along the corridor. As he did so, the figure in theend bed moved, and glanced in the direction of Paul; then breathed hard,as though it were sleeping.

  Paul, unconscious that Parfitt had seen him, passed into the corridor.Dormitory X was in the room next to that occupied by Mr. Weevil, on thefloor above. Paul crept up the stairs. They seemed to creak horribly,but it was the silence of the building that magnified the sound toPaul's ears. He glanced along the passage. A light was still burning inMr. Weevil's room. He could see it stealing faintly through a crack inthe door.

  "Studying late. Trying some scientific experiment, I expect. The fellowssay that he burns the midnight oil a lot. That's what gives him such asleepy look sometimes, I suppose. No wonder he's such a dab at science."

  Paul knew that it was useless to try to get to Stanley along thepassage. He might succeed in getting past the master's room, but whatthen? The door would be locked, and he could not pass through a lockeddoor. Dormitory X had a window looking on to the parapet outside, and itwas by this window he hoped to gain Stanley's room. There was a smalllavatory at the end of the corridor, and this likewise had a windowleading to the roof.

  "Be stedfast!" he whispered to himself, as he climbed through the windowto the parapet. It was a rash thing to do--a wrong thing. Though Paulmight have questioned the justice of what Mr. Weevil had done in puttinghis chum in Dormitory X., he had no right, from a chivalrous feeling offriendship, to run the risk of a foolhardy adventure at night. But Paulthought that he was right, and that, by visiting Stanley, he wasinterpreting in the best way he could the school motto, "Be stedfast."

  There were but few stars in the heavens as he stepped on to the parapet.The wind blew freshly, and the clouds were scurrying quickly across themoon. It was a plain Gothic parapet, in keeping with the time-wornbuilding. It rose a couple of feet above the gutter, and the latter, inturn, was nearly of the same width; so that there was not muchdifficulty in walking along it to the dormers.

  Glancing along the gutter, Paul saw that the light was still burning inMr. Weevil's room. The window beyond was in darkness. That was whereStanley was? Would it be possible for him to reach it without being seenby Mr. Weevil? He meant trying. Stealing cautiously along the gutter, hestopped within a yard or so of the master's window.

  What was that? The sound of voices, and it came from Mr. Weevil's room.

  "Chewing over science with one of the other masters," thought Paul."It's jolly late to be talking that dry stuff. But hanged if I don'tthink Weevil talks it in his sleep; he's so hot on it. He ought to beamongst the fossils in the museum. I don't believe he's got any warmblood in him. He was never meant for a human being. Steady--steady."

  He knelt on the gutter, and stretched himself along till he was justable to peer into the room. A lamp was burning on the table, on whichwere strewn a number of papers and documents. Over these two men wereleaning, as though they were earnestly discussing their contents.

  "Some musty old parchments from the Assyrians or the lost Ten Tribes, Iexpect," Paul told himself. "But who's the other fossil? I don't seem toknow him. Not one of the masters here."

  He could not see either of the faces very clearly as they bent over thedocuments; but one he knew to be Mr. Weevil's. The other was astranger's.

  "Why doesn't he look up?" Paul asked himself, growing curious.

  The man was tracing something with his finger on the document beforehim, and Mr. Weevil was following the direction of his finger with theclosest attention. Presently the man raised his head. In spite ofhimself Paul cried out. The men heard the cry, and he had only just timeto draw back as they turned to the window.

  Paul lay there breathing hard. Would he be found out? His heart beatviolently as he heard footsteps approach the window. It was opened, andthe head of the master thrust out. Paul thought that he must be foundout. There seemed no help for it. He gave himself up for lost.Fortunately, the light of the moon was quite obscured at this moment,and Paul seemed only a part of the shadows that were flitting overparapet and roof.

  "It sounded very much like the cry of a human being," said the master,peering out, "but it couldn't have been. It must have been the wind, ora night-bird."

  Then, to Paul's inexpressible relief, he heard the window close. Someseconds elapsed, however, before he ventured to look up. He feared, inspite of the closed window, to find the eyes of the master fixed uponhim. Should he turn back? No; that would be acting the coward's part.Besides, he must catch another glimpse of the face he had seen.

  Presently he heard the murmur of voices within, and knew that the twohad resumed their interrupted interview. So, taking his courage in bothhands, Paul peeped once more into the room.

  Yes, he was sure of it. The man with whom Mr. Weevil was talking wasIsrael Zuker, the German Jew--the man who had tried to wrest from himMr. Moncrief's letter--the man for whom he believed his father hadsacrificed his life!

  Why had Zuker come there? Paul would have given a good deal to know whatthe two were talking about, but not a word of their conversation reachedhis ears. They were bending low, and spoke in little more than whispers.For one thing, that was an advantage. They were so earnestly engaged inconversation, that they were the less likely to notice anything thathappened outside. Paul therefore determined not to put off any longerthe effort to reach Stanley.

  He crept quickly to the other side of the window, then waited. He couldstill hear the hum of voices, so he felt sure that he had not been seen.

  "Now for old Stan. I'm sure he won't be asleep."

  Paul crept close to the window, and tapped on it with his nail.

  "Who's there?" said Stanley.

  The window was cautiously opened, and Paul slipped into the room.

  "Paul! You don't mean to say it's you!" exclaimed Stanley as their handsmet in
the darkness. "What's brought you here?"

  "To see you, of course."

  "Well, you can't see much of me, I'm thinking, by this precious light;so, if you won't mind me saying it, old chap, it was silly of you tocome."

  "No it wasn't. I couldn't bear the thought of your moping here byyourself, and it was a ghastly shame of Weevil to send you."

  "Oh, come to think of it quietly, he was right enough! I dare say Icould have got out of the pickle by speaking, but I was obstinate.Solitude isn't so bad," he added cheerfully. "It helps you to chew thecud of reflection."

  "And a bitter cud it is sometimes. That's why I've come. It's better fortwo to try their teeth on it than one."

  "It's very good of you, Paul, coming to me. Is Harry all right?"

  "Oh, he's all right, though he was rather cut up at your having to comehere for him. It's Newall you'll have to look out for. He won't besatisfied till he's paid back that blow you gave him. He told me asmuch."

  "What did he say? Tell me the exact words."

  "After you had gone away with Mr. Weevil, I told Newall what Ithought--that he had acted meanly in not speaking up. 'Why should I havespoken?' he burst out. 'I didn't want to speak. All I wanted was to getthat blow back that Moncrief gave me; and I'll have it back, if I diefor it!'"

  A sound of footsteps could be heard in the next room. In his desire toconsole Stanley in his solitude, Paul had said nothing about what he hadseen in the master's room, though it had been uppermost in his mind allthe time he had been speaking to Stanley.

  "Hallo! What's that? Weevil's guest on the move. Who is he, I wonder?"

  "Hush! Not so loud!" cautioned Paul, clutching Stanley by the arm. "Youwould never guess. You remember what happened to me on the night I tookthat packet to Oakville?"

  Paul had confided to his chum all that happened on that night.

  "Don't I? And I'm not likely to forget it in a hurry. I only wish thatI'd been with you then, just as you're with me now. What about it?"

  "What about it? Why, the man in the next room is Israel Zuker."

  "Paul!" cried Stanley, rising to his feet in amazement.

  "Hush--don't I tell you!"--again clutching him by the arm, and pressinghim to his former position. "Israel Zuker! I'm sure of it."

  "But what can he want with Mr. Weevil, and what can Weevil want withhim?"

  "Ask me another. That's what floors me. Listen! Weevil is letting himout."

  They remained perfectly silent, as they listened to the footsteps in thepassage; at first they were quite close, then they died away. Presentlythey heard Mr. Weevil returning alone. He paused as he was on the pointof entering his own door, as though struck with an idea.

  "What's he up to now?" whispered Paul.

  They could hear the master enter the next room; then come out again. Hestopped at Dormitory X.

  In another moment the light of a candle could be seen through a crevicein the door, and a key was put in the lock.

  "He's coming here!" exclaimed Stanley.