The Hero of Garside School Part 57

"There wasn't much mistake, Stan. I wish there had been. That makes the second time I've seen them together."

"If you don't believe us, you'd better put to him the question straight.

Send for him now, and put him face to face with us. See if he'll deny it then!"

"I think you're right, Plunger. We'll send for Percival, and see what he has to say. You go and fetch him, Harry. You'll find him somewhere about the grounds.

"One moment. Don't be in a hurry. We've got an artful young gentleman to deal with, and if we want to find things out, and pay back the Bedes in their own coin, we shall have to be artful as well. We mustn't show our hand too soon."

"I don't quite understand."

"No; but I'll make all clear in a word or two. If we call in Percival, we shall not get much from him. It isn't likely he'll give himself away.

He'll say that Plunger was mistaken; that it wasn't him, but somebody else who was talking to the fellow up at Bedes. What we've got to do is to meet craft with craft, and go one better than Percival at his own game."

"Hear, hear!" cried Plunger. "But how are you going to do it? Strikes me you'll have to get up very early in the morning to score off Percival."

"We sha'n't score if you keep that noisy tongue of yours wagging, Mr.

Plunger. All you've got to do is to keep quiet till to-morrow evening, and then you can let it wag again as much as you please. My scheme is this: We've first got to make good your word about the flag. If we can get it from that shed in which you say it is, we can prove that you haven't been dreaming. With the flag in our possession, we'll call a meeting of the princ.i.p.al fellows from each Form down to the Third. You and Moncrief minor can tell the story. Percival can then say what he pleases. We can produce the flag to prove our case--and--there you are!

Percival will be kicked out of Garside!"

Stanley did not speak. The chasm between him and Percival had gone on widening instead of narrowing, but it was no pleasure to him to hear those words. Percival kicked from Garside! Then Garside would no longer be Garside to him. Harry, too, was silent. He did not know why, but he began to think they were not doing the right thing by Percival. They were trying to trap him, and the one setting that trap was the one who hated him.

"A jolly good idea, Newall!" exclaimed Plunger enthusiastically.

"Smart--real smart! But how are you going to work it? How are you going to get the flag?"

"To-morrow's Wednesday; so we've got the whole of the afternoon before us. You're supposed to meet the Beetles at half-past three, aren't you?"

"Yes; half-past three sharp."

"Well, we'll be beforehand--half an hour, say. That will give us plenty of time to get possession of the flag, and away with it before your brethren of the Mystic Circle put in an appearance."

"You--you won't want me?" asked Plunger anxiously. He had a keen recollection of what had happened at the shed the last time he was there.

"Of course we shall. You'll have to take us to the shed and show us what's inside it."

Plunger did not like this suggestion. Why couldn't Newall have selected Moncrief minor? But he could not very well raise any objection. So, making a virtue of necessity, he raised his eyebrows to their fullest extent, and said he should be "delighted."

Then came the question as to who should go with Plunger. It was not advisable to take too many, for fear of the risk of discovery. So Newall decided that only three should accompany Plunger--Stanley, Parfitt, and himself. Stanley would gladly have given way to anybody else, but Newall insisted that he should be one of the party. He seemed determined to leave no stone unturned to blacken Paul in the eyes of his one-time friend.

Stanley crept away as soon as he could to the solitude of his dormitory.

He was very wretched. He felt as though he were acting a mean part. It might be true that Paul was not the friend to him that he had at one time been--that he had gone over to the Bedes, and acted a mean part; but that was no reason why he should act a mean part, too. Two blacks did not make a white. "Percival will be kicked out of Garside!" Newall's words kept repeating themselves in his brain. He could not forget them.

Percival would be kicked out of Garside, and he would be one of those who had helped to kick him out.

No, no; whatever wrong Paul had done him, he could not do that. But how could he prevent it? How could he put him on his guard? He thought for a long time; then he got a half-sheet of notepaper, and wrote on it in a disguised hand:

"Beware! Steer clear of Bedes. Plot on foot to turn you from Garside."

The next difficulty to get over was--how to get that note to Paul without rousing suspicion. It must be read by him, and him alone. He was a long time before he could think of any means of accomplis.h.i.+ng this purpose; then he remembered that Paul was in the habit of reading a few verses every night before going to rest from a Bible given to him by his mother. He went to Paul's dormitory--the dormitory in which he had once slept, and to which he had often longed to get back.

Glancing cautiously in, he found that it was empty. He crept softly to Paul's locker, and drew out his Bible. There was a bookmark in it. He opened it at the bookmark. The first words that met his eyes were:

"Judge not, and ye shall not ye judged; condemn not, and ye shall not be condemned; forgive, and ye shall be forgiven.... With the same measure that ye mete, withal it shall be measured to you again."

Forgive, and ye shall be forgiven! The words seemed in a mist before Stanley's eyes. Pshaw! What had he to do with forgiveness?

His eyes went again to the Bible:

"With the same measure that ye mete, withal it shall be measured to you again."

He read the words thrice, then placed the note inside the Bible and closed it.

"He's sure to see it, I should think, and won't suspect who put it there," he told himself, as he stepped softly to the corridor.

Scarcely had he reached it when he heard a footstep coming along it.

Looking in the direction whence it came, he saw that it was he of whom he had been thinking--Paul Percival!

CHAPTER x.x.xIX

THE MISSING FLAG

Stanley did not wish to meet Paul. He might suspect his purpose in being there. There was no possibility of turning away, however, so he kept straight on, keeping as close to the wall as possible. Paul's head was bent to the ground. He seemed absorbed in thought, and pa.s.sed by Stanley as though he had not seen him.

"I don't think he saw me," Stanley told himself. "He looked a bit worried, and I don't wonder at it. He can't have a very pleasant time of it."

For an instant Stanley felt inclined to turn back. "Forgive and ye shall be forgiven." Still the words he had just read were repeating themselves. Paul and he had not spoken for so long. A few words might clear up everything. Clear up everything? No. How was it possible to clear up that scene in the sand-pits? So Stanley's heart hardened again, and he went on.

Meanwhile Paul entered the dormitory, and drew from his pocket a note he had just found awaiting him at the porter's lodge. He had read it twice before, but he could not help reading it again.

"Meet me to-morrow (Wednesday), half-past two, at old elm, near sand-pits. Be sure and come. Very important."

This note was scribbled in pencil, and unsigned, but Paul knew the writing well enough. It was Wyndham's. What was it Wyndham wanted with him? What was it that was so important? Had he gained any information as to the missing flag? He was thinking over this note when he pa.s.sed by Stanley, and it was this which had given to him that "worried"

appearance that Stanley had noticed in his face.

He sat for some time musing over this letter, and then, to get away from it, drew from the locker his Bible. It opened, of course, at the place in which Stanley had placed his note. Paul unfolded and read it, with no small astonishment: "Beware! Steer clear of Bedes. Plot on foot to turn you from Garside."

Plot on foot to turn him from Garside! What could the plot be? This note was more puzzling than the other. Like that, too, it was unsigned; but this time Paul was beaten. The writing was unknown to him. He could not guess the writer, but he could see plainly enough that it was in a disguised hand.

Then he suddenly realized that the two notes clashed. The one was an invitation to meet a Bede; the other warned him to steer clear of Bedes.

If he obeyed the one, he would have to disregard the other. What was he to do? He did not hesitate long. Wyndham he knew. His friends.h.i.+p had been proved. He knew nothing of this anonymous writer--the writer who professed to warn him of a hidden danger, but did so in a disguised hand, and had not the courage to put to it his name. He would keep the appointment with Wyndham, whatever happened.

So the next day, as soon as the clock had struck two, and he was free, Paul started off for the old elm, near the sand-pits. Punctual though he was, Wyndham was awaiting him.

"I'm so glad you've come, Percival," he said, as he came towards him and shook him warmly by the hand. "I've splendid news to tell you."