by Henry Cecil
They both spoke up.
‘It was him, sir;’ they said in chorus.
‘Go away, boys, and come back in half an hour.’ As soon as the boys got outside the Headmaster’s study, they turned and looked at each other.
‘Dirty cheat,’ they said.
Meanwhile, Mr Riddington was communing with himself. ‘If it was Leader, it wasn’t Wesley-Hart,’ he said. ‘If it was Wesley-Hart, it wasn’t Leader. So far, so good. And now what?’
He frowned. He clasped his hands together. He could not see what. He tried to think what the great Arnold would have done. Bulmer Riddington had been brought up to be a schoolmaster, and he imagined himself to be like one of the great headmasters. He tried, as he thought, to fashion himself on their lines, and Arnold was his idol. ‘He would have seen it in the boy’s face,’ he went on. ‘His eyes would have pierced the boy’s soul.’
He looked in the glass to see what chance he would have. He was not entirely happy about what he saw.
Meanwhile, the two boys were having it out together.
‘You know you did it,’ said the one.
‘You know it was you,’ said the other.
‘I’ll fairly kill you,’ said the one.
‘Dead men can’t cheat,’ said the other.
So the half-hour passed with a duet for the boys and a solo for their Headmaster. At the end of it they knocked at his study and were told to come in. He looked at them with the most searching gaze he had practised. Nothing happened. They both looked blankly back.
‘Now, boys,’ he said, ‘I’ll give you one last chance. Which was it?’
They pointed to each other.
‘I see it’s useless to argue with you,’ said Mr Riddington. ‘I must use sterner methods.’
He had considered thrashing both boys until they both confessed, and imputing guilt to the one who confessed the sooner. But, on the whole, although this would have rid him of some nervous energy, it did not seem an entirely satisfactory solution. Although, however, he had rejected this method, both boys suddenly thought of it and looked extremely apprehensive, the innocent one in particular feeling a horrible sense of frustration. They were both wondering what form their protest should take to the awful suggestion when Mr Riddington went on.
‘Now, listen,’ he said. ‘Listen very carefully. One of you may think that he is very clever, but he isn’t as clever as he thinks. There are ways and means of finding out these things. It is only a matter of time and the truth will be clear and will shine as brightly as ever. It will take a day or two, maybe a week, but no more. Now — now — if the guilty boy confesses at once, his punishment will be great: he will be expelled forthwith, but that is all. But if he does not confess now and we have to prove his guilt by the various methods open to us, then before he is expelled he will be thrashed in front of the whole school — and he will receive such a thrashing as will make the legendary ones of old seem like a caress. Now, Leader,’ and he turned suddenly and snapped at him. ‘Was it you?’
‘No,’ said Leader, and with sudden inspiration added: ‘I can prove it wasn’t.’
‘How? Show me? Why didn’t you say so before?’
‘I’ve only just thought of it, sir,’ said Leader quite truthfully. ‘But I’d rather not tell you in Wesley-Hart’s presence. Otherwise he might get round it somehow.’
The Headmaster seized at the chance.
‘Leave the room, Wesley-Hart,’ he said. ‘Remain outside — beyond earshot,’ he added. He rang for a porter. It was as well to be certain. As soon as the porter had come and withdrawn with Kenneth, Mr Riddington turned, almost too eagerly, to the boy.
‘The proof,’ he said. ‘What is it?’
‘I haven’t any,’ began Leader.
‘You abominable liar,’ said Mr Riddington. ‘You are obviously the cheat. Heaven has cursed you and shown me the light. You wicked boy. Now you shall see my promise come true. Now you shall . . .’
‘Please wait a moment, sir,’ said the boy, ‘I hadn’t finished.’
‘What more is there to be said?’
‘That’s what I want to tell you, sir, if you’ll let me.’
‘Then speak, boy. But I warn you that if any more lies fall from your lips I will thrash you here and now as well. Oh — never did I think that this would happen to me. Well?’
‘It’s just this, sir. I know I didn’t cheat. So I know that Wesley-Hart did. When I said I had proof; you thought I had. He’s only a boy, sir, so he must think so too. You know, sir, something connected with the two papers. Now sir, you’ve given him a chance to get off with expulsion. It’s worth his while to take it if he knows he’s going to be found out. Well, sir, if you pretend, when he comes back, that I have given you the proof, ten to one he’ll throw his hand in. Don’t you see, sir? He knows he’s guilty. You don’t, but I do, and so does he.’
‘You mean,’ said Mr Riddington, who began to see some force in the argument, ‘that I am to lie to one of my own boys?’
‘Oh, no, sir. I wouldn’t suggest that. But if you just give him the impression that I’ve said something to you fairly convincing — if you just turn to him when he comes in and say: “Well, Wesley-Hart” — and here Leader gave a very creditable and somewhat courageous imitation of his Headmaster — ‘If you just say that, he’ll crumple up. If he doesn’t at first, you enlarge on the public thrashing. He’ll say to himself: “If I’m going to be thrown out, I might as well go in one piece.” ’
‘Well, boy,’ said Mr Riddington after a short pause, ‘I can’t pretend I like the idea particularly, but there can’t be - anything wrong in just saying, “Well, Wesley-Hart?” and seeing if it has any effect. But if it doesn’t, boy — if it doesn’t—’
‘If it doesn’t, sir, you’ll be where you started. So you won’t be any worse off.’
‘That borders on the impertinent, boy. Hold your tongue. Now,’ and he rang for the porter.
‘Send in Wesley-Hart, please.’
As soon as Kenneth came in, Mr Riddington turned to him and said in his most awful voice, ‘Well, Wesley-Hart?’
Kenneth remained silent.
‘Well?’ he repeated, and then, throwing discretion to the winds, he took the plunge. Taking out his watch, he said: ‘My offer of a painless expulsion will remain open for ten seconds, Wesley-Hart.’
Kenneth thought hard. What could Leader have said?
‘Five seconds are gone,’ said Mr Riddington, feeling almost as nervous as Kenneth. If the boy didn’t own up he’d be sunk.
‘Four, three,’ he went on — in rather slower time than his watch was showing. Just as he was wishing he had never listened to Leader’s suggestion and wondering what on earth he could do to save his face, Kenneth capitulated.
‘All right,’ he said, ‘I did it. It’s a fair cop,’ he added.
‘Don’t use that disgusting language to me, boy,’ said the Headmaster, but there was relief in his voice as well as anger. It had been a great strain.
‘I’m not in your ruddy school now,’ said Kenneth, ‘and I’ll say what I something well like.’
Mr Riddington was genuinely appalled at the language. ‘You have not yet been officially expelled,’ he said, ‘and I warn you that if you use any more of that language, I shall thrash you for that. Now go and pack your things while I telephone your father. Leader, you may go too. I’m glad your good name has been cleared. I may tell you both now that I never had the least doubt as to which of you it was. It was clear to me from the start, but I wanted the culprit to have a chance of owning up like a man. Now go, both of you.’
Mr and Mrs Wesley-Hart naturally did not know the whole story, but they repeated all they did know to Basil and Nicholas.
‘But you say he’s innocent,’ said Basil. ‘Then why did he confess?’
‘Tell the gentlemen, Kenneth.’
‘It was like this,’ said Kenneth. ‘Old Blunderbuss, as we call him, is a pretty good fool, and he was in a spot when we both said we
hadn’t done it. He’d have tossed up in the end, so I only had a fifty-fifty chance of getting off. How could I show it wasn’t me? I wasn’t going to have a thrashing into the bargain — in front of the whole school too.’
‘But what about this proof Leader said he had?’
‘He hadn’t any. It was just bluff if you ask me. I don’t know what he told old Blunderbuss, but, as he did the cheating, he couldn’t have proved that he didn’t.’
‘It seems a very funny thing to confess to something you haven’t done,’ said Nicholas.
‘It isn’t a very funny thing to be thrashed in front of the whole school. I know the old idiot. He’s as pompous as they make ‘em. He had to have a scalp, and if the penny came down wrong, it was me. Why should I risk it? I didn’t much care for the school, anyway.’
‘But what about the effect on your future?’
‘I didn’t think of my future. My thoughts were all behind, if you follow me.’
‘Well,’ said Mrs Wesley-Hart, ‘what do you think of the case? Can you help us?’
‘There shouldn’t be much difficulty about that.’
Both parents looked surprised.
‘D’you mean that?’ they said.
‘Oh, yes,’ said Basil, ‘I think we could straighten this one out for you. The question is, whether we should. But,’ and he hesitated a moment, thinking, ‘there isn’t really much to choose between these two boys. What do you think, Nicholas?’
‘I don’t mind,’ said Nicholas.
‘I suppose,’ said Basil, ‘there’s no question of his going back to the school. What you want is an unqualified apology and an offer to reinstate him.’
‘The term’s over and he would have left by now in any event.’
‘Of course. Then you want an apology and a letter of explanation to his public school removing the slur from his name.’
‘Exactly.’
‘I suppose we may be assured that Kenneth won’t start confessing any more. It would be inconvenient if he did so just after we’d got a withdrawal.’
‘He won’t confess again,’ said his father, ‘or I’ll give him what his headmaster didn’t. It won’t be in public, but it’ll hurt as much.’
‘Father will have his little joke,’ said Mrs Wesley-Hart nervously.
‘That was not a joke,’ said Mr Wesley-Hart, turning to Kenneth, ‘and don’t you forget it. I haven’t slaved all my life to have you expelled. You’re going to be a great man or I’ll know the reason.’
‘Now, tell me,’ said Basil. ‘Where can I find young Leader?’
They told him.
‘How much longer has he at school?’
‘A year.’
‘Very well, then. Come back in a fortnight and I think we will have some news for you.’
The Wesley-Harts left, protesting their thanks.
‘What made you take them on?’ said Nicholas.
‘What else has there been?’ said Basil. ‘We might get a bit of amusement out of this. All the other nonsenses didn’t come to anything. I’ve just got to have something to do, and this is the best of a bad bunch. As for the Wesley-Harts — son and all — I’d expel the lot if I had my way. But then I’d expel so many people — there’d soon only be the four of us left, and that would be a dreadful bore. Come on, now. This is quite simple. You take Petula and go and see young Leader. Now this is what you’ll do.’
He explained everything in detail to Nicholas and then made his own plans for taking Elizabeth to The Summit. Their visit was timed to take place a few days after Nicholas and Petula had seen Leader. They had seen him near his home during the holidays, and the interview had been entirely satisfactory from everyone’s point of view.
One afternoon Basil and Elizabeth arrived at The Summit. They were seen first by the porter.
‘I wonder,’ said Elizabeth with her sweetest smile, ‘if we could see the Headmaster?’
‘Have you an appointment?’ asked the porter when he had got his breath back. He had never seen anyone like Elizabeth before. Immediately Elizabeth produced the little frown. ‘Oh, dear,’ she said. ‘Is that absolutely essential?’
‘I’ll see what I can do, ma’am,’ said the porter. He had made up his mind that, whatever the Headmaster said, he would see Elizabeth. He was not actually prepared to die or leave his wife for her, but almost anything else.
‘You are very kind,’ said Elizabeth, giving him five rounds rapid of her smile.
It was not Mr Riddington’s habit to see parents without an appointment. He was a big man in his own view, and big men can only be seen by appointment. He was very strict about this, and the porter knew it. But he had been porter for a long time and he knew that The Summit would not be quite the same without him. His burly figure had become part of the place. Just as some young men who are new to alcohol feel suddenly uplifted under its influence and prepared to climb the Albert Memorial and crown it with a frying-pan or even less suitable object, so was the porter under the influence of Elizabeth. The death roll among dragons (or knights) would have been much greater if Elizabeth had lived in those days.
‘There’s a lady and a gent to see you, sir,’ said the porter.
‘But I have no appointment for this afternoon, Albert. You know the rules. Send them away. Who are they?’
‘They’ve a boy to enter for next term, I think,’ said Albert, drawing slightly on his imagination.
‘Time enough when they have an appointment. Who do they think I am? Let them go to some lesser place where, no doubt, the headmaster will be delighted to see them without notice. Send them packing, Albert. Give them a syllabus if you like.’
‘You’ll have to see them,’ said Albert doggedly.
‘Have to? That’s a strange word to use to me, Albert.’
‘You’ve never seen a lady like her, sir. You’ll just have to see her.’
‘Albert, are you out of your mind? What on earth are you talking about?’
‘She’s beautiful, sir, she’s like one of them goddesses — not the fat kind, I mean, sir. You’ll just have to see her. You wouldn’t thank me if I sent her away.’
Mr Riddington hesitated. He was a moral man and seldom allowed his eyes to travel across the road, however great the temptation. He had plenty of self-control in this respect, and it was beneath his dignity to act like ordinary men on the top of an omnibus whose heads swing backwards and forwards as every pretty face passes beneath them, rather like the heads of spectators at a game of tennis. But he was a man, and if one of the parents of a pupil of his was exceptionally good-looking, he saw no harm in paying her a little extra attention. He had never seen Albert like this before. It was difficult not to feel intrigued. Eventually he said:
‘Don’t be ridiculous, Albert. I’m not in the least interested in what the parents look like. But as it’s for next term and they’ve taken the trouble to come here, I’ll see them as a special favour. But make that plain to them, Albert. A special favour — a very special favour — as I happen to be disengaged.’
‘Thank you, sir. Oh, thank you,’ said Albert, and almost ran back to Basil and Elizabeth.
‘I’ve fixed it, ma’am,’ he said, and looked at Elizabeth for his reward. She gave it him in full measure, five rounds deliberate. If it was possible for a human being to dissolve, Albert would have done so in his ecstasy. After he had recovered sufficiently, he asked their name and led them to the Headmaster’s study. Just before they reached the room, he managed to whisper to Basil: ‘He don’t usually see people without appointment, sir. So, to oblige me, sir, you might thank him rather special.’
‘To oblige you?’ said Elizabeth, who had heard. ‘Of course,’ and her smile nearly made Albert’s legs collapse beneath him. They had quite a big job to do, anyway.
‘Mr and Mrs Merridew,’ announced Albert.
‘Pray come in,’ said Mr Riddington in his most dignified voice, ‘and be seated.’
He shook hands with them, and he was bound to admit that Albe
rt had not exaggerated when he spoke of Elizabeth. This was going to be a pleasant interview. He would invite them to tea.
‘It is so very kind of you,’ said Elizabeth, ‘to see us without an appointment. We know how busy you must be.’
‘Not at all, madam, not at all. I am only too pleased to see parents whenever I am free. I am delighted.’ He looked at Elizabeth for as long as he could. ‘Delighted,’ he repeated.
‘I’m afraid we’re not parents,’ said Elizabeth.
Mr Riddington thought for a moment. This was one of the greatest compliments he had ever been paid. They were about to enter their child before birth. The M.C.C. wasn’t in it.
‘Quite,’ he beamed, ‘but, although it is advisable to enter boys well in advance, I don’t think all that notice is necessary — and, of course, it might be a girl.’
Elizabeth gave him two rounds deliberate. ‘I’m afraid we haven’t come to enter a boy at all. Didn’t the porter explain?’ They had not told the porter the object of their visit. ‘But, of course, he couldn’t have. We never told him.’
Never mind, thought Mr Riddington; this is very pleasant. Pity I can’t send the husband out to play with the boys. Stupid-looking sort of fellow. Can’t think how she fell for him. Now, here, as Mrs Riddington, mistress of The Summit, she would make the school even more famous. But the fellow’s quite young, bother it, he thought, and he looks in good health. Perhaps Smith Minor could persuade him to fall down the disused well. But, really, I mustn’t think of such things. He pulled himself together just in time. He had nearly said his last thought out loud.
‘And what, then, can I have the pleasure of doing for you, madam?’
‘It’s like this,’ said Basil, taking up the running. ‘We’re interested in one of your boys.’
‘Godparents, perhaps,’ said Mr Riddington. ‘I’m delighted. So many godparents disregard their responsibilities.
And who is the dear boy, madam?’ He turned again to
Elizabeth. She rewarded him with one deliberate while
Basil went on.
‘As a matter of fact, he’s just left.’
