by F. C. Shaw
“One more thing, sir,” Cecily spoke up in a small voice. She told him about taking her IS work home to finish.
Headmaster Yardsly sighed. “IS work is not usually accepted late, but in light of your good detective work we’ll excuse it just this once.”
As Rollie and Cecily left the office, they heard Headmaster Yardsly speaking on the telephone with an inspector from Scotland Yard.
“I’m glad that’s over with,” Rollie blew out a breath. “I’m sick of carrying this secret around.”
“What secret?” a new voice cut in.
Rollie saw Eliot coming toward them down the hall.
“Hey, Eliot, how was your weekend?”
“What secret?”
“If I told you, it wouldn’t be a secret.”
“Cecily knows,” Eliot argued.
“It’s just a secret between us.”
Eliot’s face portrayed hurt feelings.
Cecily jumped in. “Actually, Eliot, it’s about my parents. They’re not getting along right now. I’m a little sensitive about it.”
Eliot’s face softened. “Sorry, Cecily. That’s too bad. I won’t pry.”
“Thank you, Eliot. Breakfast?”
The three students headed up to the roof for breakfast. When Eliot got lost in the crowd, Rollie leaned over to Cecily and whispered, “Thanks for that, but you didn’t have to lie for me.”
“I didn’t lie. I told the truth.”
Rollie frowned. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know that—”
“Never mind. I guess that’s why I was a little more sensitive this week than usual.”
“You should have told me.”
“Well, I would have, but you were busy with this case.” She smiled and playfully socked his shoulder.
Rollie smiled back at her sheepishly and promised himself to include her in the rest of his detective work. He was glad that she had forgiven him so easily, but he was still worried about his other problem.
Although Rollie knew he had done the right thing by turning in Mr. Chad, he did not feel any better. Rollie felt sickly flutters in his middle when he and Cecily spotted Inspectors Pembly and Clyde enter Mr. Chad’s classroom. The students gawked as Mr. Chad was handcuffed and escorted downstairs by the inspectors. Rollie watched them leave the Academy, and he felt sad all over again. It was still hard to believe that, behind that jovial façade, Mr. Chad was a thief and an enemy. Rollie marveled at how well Mr. Chad had disguised himself, and found himself respecting the American teacher for his skills. At least Mr. Chad had practiced what he preached: he had not only worn the part, he had truly become the part and had fooled everyone.
Just as Rollie wondered who would take over Mr. Chad’s Disguise class, he saw Ms. Yardsly post a sign on Mr. Chad’s classroom door that read Disguise Class Canceled Until Further Notice.
This made Rollie feel even worse.
“You did the right thing, you know,” Cecily told them as they headed into Ms. Yardsly’s classroom.
The week continued on. There was no word about Mr. Chad, and Disguise class stayed canceled. Rollie wanted to ask Headmaster Yardsly about Mr. Chad’s interrogation, but Yardsly spent the next few days at Scotland Yard questioning Mr. Chad. Rollie was anxious to get his book and his marmalade jar back, and wondered if they had been found yet. In the midst of Mr. Chad’s arrest, Rollie had forgotten to deliver Mr. Crenshaw’s letter to Professor Enches until the professor asked him after class on Thursday if there was any word from Mr. Crenshaw. Rollie promised to retrieve the letter from his room and get it to Enches after classes.
When he returned to Enches’ classroom with the letter in hand, Rollie found the classroom empty and dark. He flicked on the light and padded between the desks and chairs. Professor Enches’ desk was as tidy as ever. Rollie placed the envelope in the center of the desk so he would see it as soon as he sat down. Rollie turned to leave, but stopped when something caught his eye. Something red and frayed peeked out from underneath the desk.
Rollie stooped for a closer look. He reached out his fingertips and grabbed it.
A red cravat.
In one second, Rollie felt a flutter of sickish surprise. He knew right away it was Mr. Chad’s disguise, but what was it doing under Professor Enches’ desk? Did this indicate that Professor Enches was the disguised culprit Rollie had seen in the library?
Rollie started to feel relieved.
Or had Mr. Chad stashed it under the professor’s desk to pass the blame onto him? Rollie felt queasy again.
Rollie needed more evidence before he could decide on a conclusion. Holmes always warned against relying on circumstantial evidence, and impressed the importance of details. Was there a detail Rollie was missing?
He reviewed Mr. Crenshaw’s story about being undercover for Scotland Yard. If his story was true, then why did Enches have Mr. Chad’s disguise hidden in his desk? If his story was false, then who exactly were Mr. Crenshaw and Professor Enches? There had to be a way to corroborate or disprove Mr. Crenshaw’s story about working undercover for Scotland Yard. But how?
The letter.
Stuffing the red cravat back under the desk, Rollie reached for the letter. The other day curiosity had almost compelled him to open the letter, but today desperation drove him to tear it open. The contents of the letter would reveal Mr. Crenshaw’s and Enches’ motives. He stood with his back to the door as he stared at the envelope in his hands, wondering if he should open the letter right there or take it up to his room.
“Good afternoon, Rollin E. Wilson.”
A New Hat
Rollie jumped. When he spun around, he was face to face with Professor Enches. The professor clasped his hands behind his back, puffed on his pipe, and smiled down at the boy.
“What brings you to my classroom this late in the afternoon?” he asked in a friendly tone.
“I, uh, was just delivering your letter.” With a shaky hand, Rollie held out the envelope to the professor.
Professor Enches took it. “Thank you, lad.”
“I was just about to leave it on your desk like you asked me to.”
Professor Enches stood in front of the door as he opened the letter, blocking Rollie’s path of escape. Rollie swallowed and blinked. The professor looked up and nodded at him. Although Rollie had no reason to feel guilty, he felt his stomach churning. Finally, Professor Enches stepped aside to let Rollie exit. Once through the door, Rollie ran downstairs, not stopping until he reached the headmaster’s office. Panting outside the door, he rapped on it, hoping the headmaster was back from Scotland Yard.
“ENTER!”
Relieved, Rollie barged into the office. “Headmaster! I was wrong about Mr. Chad! He’s innocent. It’s Professor Enches!” He told him about finding the red cravat under Enches’ desk.
Yardsly’s straggly eyebrows rose. “How do we know the cravat was worn by Enches, and wasn’t planted under his desk by Chadwick?”
Rollie swallowed. “I just know it.”
Yardsly sighed. “A good detective heeds his instincts. HOWEVER, he also analyzes the evidence and searches the facts for the truth. We need more evidence before we release Chadwick and arrest Enches.” When he noticed Rollie’s fallen countenance, he added quickly, “BUT I will question Ichabod about the cravat under his desk.”
Rollie left the office. He suspected Professor Enches was the culprit; yet Rollie did not want to be a detective who acted on feelings. Still he had an instinct, and so far his instincts had served him well. But Headmaster Yardsly was right: Rollie needed to build a stronger case. He needed more evidence. His instinct told him that evidence was in that letter from Mr. Crenshaw.
Getting that letter would be tricky.
He needed help. He needed his Watson.
* * * *
The next day, Rollie and Cecily had their plan formed and rea
dy for implementation. Rollie did not know if Yardsly had questioned Enches about the cravat yet, or if Mr. Chad had been released from Scotland Yard; his disguise class was still canceled. But Rollie was not about to waste any more time before gathering evidence to support his suspicion of Professor Enches.
At eleven-thirty, Rollie filed into his Etiquette class with the other students and took his usual seat. Professor Enches stood up from his desk and began his lecture. Rollie appeared to be listening intently by keeping his eyes on the professor, and jotting down a few notes here and there. Cecily’s chair stood vacant. Suddenly, the classroom door creaked open and Cecily’s head popped in.
“Excuse me, professor,” Cecily called in a little voice. “May I please speak with you for just a moment, sir? It’s extremely important.” She looked like she might cry, so the professor hurried over to her.
All the students turned their heads to see the disturbance. That was exactly what Rollie had hoped for. In a blink, he was behind the professor’s desk, opening drawers and searching for the letter.
“I’m very upset about this . . . right now . . . and I just—” Cecily burst into loud wails.
“There, there, now, tears are no proper form of etiquette, and I can’t help you unless I know exactly what the problem is.”
Frantically, Rollie shuffled through the desk drawers. He slid them closed just as he noticed the professor’s briefcase on the floor—a thick parchment envelope stuck out. Rollie snatched it and stuffed it under his shirt as one scrawny boy in the front spotted him. The boy gaped, mouth ajar. Rollie put his finger to his lips, hoping the boy would understand his signal and not give him away.
But the boy was just like Rollie, and thought it his duty to report any crimes.
“Professor Enches!”
The professor spun around as Rollie reached his seat.
“Professor Enches! He was behind your desk!” the little boy announced, pointing an accusing finger at Rollie.
Rollie paled as the professor marched over to him.
“Rollin E. Wilson, no student is allowed behind a teacher’s desk.” He barked at Rollie, his mustache twitching. “Class dismissed!”
Murmurs of confusion stirred.
“This instant!” the professor demanded.
Students scrambled out of their seats and pushed through the door. Rollie hurried after them, but got caught by Enches’ hand. Cecily cast him a terrified expression as she was herded out by her peers. The door slammed shut.
Professor Enches gripped Rollie’s collar, yanked him over to a nearby chair, and pushed him into it. He eyed Rollie closely. Enches’ flushed complexion faded and his breathing slowed as he regained his composure.
Rollie sat very still as if any sudden movement might trigger the professor’s temper. He also did not want to betray the envelope hidden beneath his shirt. Seconds dragged into minutes as the teacher and student silently regarded one another. Finally, Enches broke the thick silence.
“Why were you behind my desk?” he asked, attempting to keep his voice under control.
Rollie gulped.
“Rollin, it’s bad etiquette to not answer your elders.”
“I have my reasons, sir,” Rollie managed with more courage than he thought he had.
“You are a bright lad, but I am smarter still. I know what you were after.”
Rollie tried to read the professor’s expression. Was he bluffing in hopes of Rollie confessing? Or did he suspect Rollie of knowing the truth? Rollie mustered more courage and tried to bait back.
“Sir, why don’t you report me to Headmaster?”
Professor Enches’ mustache twitched again. “I do not wish to inconvenience Headmaster. I’m sure you and I can resolve this properly.”
He knows that I know, Rollie realized with dread. His only safety was the headmaster. If he could convince Enches to turn him in—
“Listen, lad, I do not want us to be enemies. If you confess your theft, I will spare you punishment. Mr. Crenshaw and I have trusted you with our secret operation to uncover the enemy spy. I thought you were on our side.”
Rollie found himself believing the professor, and believing in the high regard Enches and Mr. Crenshaw had for him. Maybe he had assumed too quickly that Enches was the guilty player in this mystery. Perhaps he should hand over the letter . . .
“Be wise and tell me the truth,” Enches coaxed in a gentler tone.
No. Whether the letter incriminated or exonerated Enches, it was too valuable to give up. Rollie would not possess evidence like this again. He had to keep it, and he had to get it to Headmaster Yardsly . . . at all costs.
Rollie’s demeanor changed. His jaw clenched firmly, his gaze hardened, and his body stiffened with resolution. He suddenly felt brave.
The professor noticed.
“Don’t be stubborn, Rollin,” he said. “If you will not help us uncover the enemy spy then—”
“But I have uncovered the enemy spy,” retorted Rollie. “You.”
With shocking speed, Enches lunged forward and pinned Rollie’s arms to his sides with an iron grip, putting his face inches from Rollie’s. The professor’s grandfatherly façade melted away.
In a vehement whisper, Enches threatened, “You are no match for us. You have no idea who you are dealing with. You will cooperate.”
Rollie trembled, but bravely held his teacher’s gaze. Rollie’s arms tingled as if they were falling asleep, so tight was Enches’ grip on them.
Rollie could feel hot breath against his cheeks. He tried to wiggle free, but immediately regretted it. The envelope made a crinkling sound under his shirt. Enches heard it.
Enches whipped the envelope out from under Rollie’s shirt. “Thief!” he hissed. “You will go straight to the headmaster now!”
“No, you’re the thief!” Rollie shot back. “You broke into the library, but discovered the secret bookcases opened only with a marmalade jar. So you stole mine and used it to open the secret bookcase. You stole my Holmes book. And you used Mr. Chad’s disguise to do it.”
Professor Enches released his grip on Rollie and stood up. “You’re cleverer than we anticipated, but you’ll never be a match for us.”
He rushed to the window and threw it up. He dug inside the inner pocket of his tweed jacket and threw something at his feet.
BANG!
Hissssss!
Without a second thought, Rollie hit the floor and covered his head with his hands.
He did not hear any more explosions, so he lifted his head and opened his eyes. A column of black smoke filled the room, completely hiding the professor.
The smoke stung Rollie’s eyes and made him cough. As the smoke wafted out the open classroom window, Rollie looked around for Enches. There was no sign of him.
Rollie bolted up and scrambled to the window. He saw Enches climbing down the fire escape ladder. Rollie ducked out the window and slid down the ladder just as Enches landed in the alley below. Rollie fell off the ladder. He picked himself up, and barely saw Enches running down the alley toward the back of the school building.
Rollie took off. He had no idea how he was going to stop Enches from escaping—he just knew he had to.
Enches disappeared around the back of the building. Rollie skidded around the corner.
Enches was heading for Baker Street. Rollie knew once the professor reached the bustling street it would be nearly impossible to catch him due to all the pedestrians and traffic. Rollie was losing the chase.
A man suddenly jumped out into the alley and tackled Enches to the ground.
“Ahhhh!” Professor Enches roared.
Rollie reached them as the man pinned Enches down with his arms behind his back. Rollie snatched the envelope from Enches’ hand.
“Going somewhere, prof?” Mr. Chad quipped as he held Enches down. “Hey, kiddo!” he
nodded at Rollie.
A wave of relief flooded Rollie as he grinned at Mr. Chad. There was no doubt in Rollie’s heart regarding Mr. Chad’s true innocence now. Relief turned to gratitude; gratitude that Mr. Chad was innocent, gratitude that he had returned, and gratitude that, above all, he had stopped Enches from escaping.
“Do me a favor, huh?” Mr. Chad panted as Enches struggled to break free. Although the professor was tall, he was no match for Mr. Chad’s youth and strength. “Go tell Yardsly what’s up. We need some cops down here fast.”
Wasting no time, Rollie darted back down the alley, around to the front of the school building, and through the front door. He pounded on the headmaster’s office door.
“ENTER!”
Rollie barged in. “Headmaster, Mr. Chad’s got him! Hurry, before he gets away!”
“ROLLIN! What on earth are you talking about?” Yardsly asked as he shot to his feet from behind his desk. “CALM YOURSELF! What do you need to tell me?”
Rollie swallowed and collected his thoughts. He quickly related Enches’ confession and attempted escape. He slapped the letter onto Yardsly’s desk.
Headmaster Yardsly called Scotland Yard on the telephone, and then followed Rollie to where Mr. Chad had Enches pinned down.
“Great job, both of you!” Yardsly told Mr. Chad and Rollie. He squatted down next to Enches. “I believe you have quite an explanation to give, Professor.”
* * * *
Throughout the rest of the day, Rollie kept quiet about his involvement in Enches’ arrest and kept his questions to himself. He did not want to bother the headmaster about the case. The faculty had been occupied with the arrest, but he still wanted to know how the puzzle pieces fit together. That evening after supper, Yardsly summoned Rollie to his office.
With a flutter of excitement, he skipped downstairs to the headmaster’s office.
“Rollin, my dear detective, take a seat.” Headmaster Yardsly waved to the left armchair in front of the crackling fireplace.
Rollie eased into the worn but comfy armchair, remembering Dr. Watson always sat on the left. He felt privileged to sit in Watson’s chair.
