Mike at Wrykyn (19 page)

“They
ought to allow you a latch—key.”

“Yes,
I’ve often thought of asking my father for one. Still, I get on very well. Who
are coming besides me?”

“No
boarders. They all funked it.”

“The
race is degenerating.”

“Said
it wasn’t good enough.”

“The
school is going to the dogs. Who did you ask?”

“Clowes
was one. Said he didn’t want to miss his beauty sleep. And Henfrey backed out
because he thought the risk of being sacked wasn’t good enough.”

“That’s
an aspect of the thing that might occur to some people. I don’t blame him—I
might feel like that myself if I’d got another couple of years at school.”

“But
one or two day-boys are coming. Clephane is, for one. And Beverley. We shall
have rather a rag. I’m going to get the things now.”

“When I
get to your place—I don’t believe I know the way, now I come to think of
it—what do I do? Ring the bell and send in my card? Or smash the nearest window
and climb in?”

“Don’t
make too much row, for goodness’ sake. All the servants’ll have gone to bed.
You’ll see the window of my room. It’s just above the porch. It’ll be the only
one lighted up. Heave a pebble at it, and I’ll come down.”

“So
will the glass—with a run, I expect. Still, I’ll try to do as little damage as
possible. After all, I needn’t throw a brick.”

“You
will
turn up, won’t you?”

“Nothing
shall stop me.”

“Good
man.”

As
Wyatt was turning away, a sudden compunction seized upon Neville-Smith. He
called him back.

“I say,
you don’t think it’s too risky, do you? I mean, you always are breaking out at
night, aren’t you? I don’t want to get you into a row.”

“Oh,
that’s all right,” said Wyatt. “Don’t you worry about me. I should have gone
out anyhow tonight.”

CHAPTER
XXIII

A SURPRISE FOR MR. APPLEBY

“YOU may not know it,”
said Wyatt to Mike in the dormitory that night, “but this is the maddest, merriest
day of all the glad New Year.”

Mike could
not help thinking that for himself it was the very reverse, but he did not
state his view of the case.

“What’s
up?” he asked.

“Neville-Smith’s
giving a meal at his place in honour of his getting his first. I understand the
preparations are on a scale of the utmost magnificence. No expense has been
spared. Ginger-beer will flow like water. The oldest cask of lemonade has been
broached; and a sardine is roasting whole in the market-place.”

“Are
you going?”

“If I
cam tear myself away from your delightful society. The kick-off is fixed for
eleven sharp. I am to stand underneath his window and heave bricks till
something happens. I don’t know if he keeps a dog. If so, I shall probably get
bitten to the bone.”

“When
are you going to start?”

“About
five minutes after Wain has been round the dormitories to see that all’s well.
That ought to be somewhere about half-past ten.”

“Don’t
go getting caught.”

“I
shall do my little best not to be. Rather tricky work, though, getting back.
I’ve got to climb garden walls, and I shall probably be so full of ginger-pop
that you’ll be able to hear it swishing about inside me. No catch
steeple-chasing if you’re like that. They’ve no thought for people’s convenience
here. Now at Bradford they’ve got studies on the ground floor, the windows
looking out over the boundless prairie. No climbing or steeple-chasing needed
at all. All you have to do is to open the window and step out. Still, we must
make the best of things. Push us over a pinch of that tooth-powder of yours.
I’ve used all mine.”

Wyatt
very seldom penetrated further than his own garden on the occasions when he
roamed abroad at night. For cat-shooting the Wain spinneys were unsurpassed.
There was one particular dustbin where one might be certain of flushing a covey
any night; and the wall by the potting-shed was a feline club-house.

But
when he did wish to get out into the open country he had a special route which
he always took. He climbed down from the wall that ram beneath the dormitory
window into the garden belonging to Mr. Appleby, the master who had the house
next to Mr. Wain’s. Crossing this, he climbed another wall, and dropped from it
into a small lane, which ended in the main road leading to Wrykyn town.

This
was the route which he took tonight. It was a glorious July night, and the
scent of the flowers came to him with a curious distinctness as he let himself
down from the dormitory window. At any other time he might have made a lengthy
halt, and enjoyed the scents and small summer noises, but now he felt that it
would be better not to delay. There was a full moon, and where he stood he
could be seem distinctly from the windows of both houses. They were all dark,
it is true, but on these occasions it was best to take no risks.

He
dropped cautiously into Appleby’s garden, ran lightly across it, and was in the
lane within a minute.

There
he paused, dusted his trousers, which had suffered on the two walls, and
strolled meditatively in the direction of the town. Half-past ten had just
chimed from the school clock. He was in plenty of time.

“What a
night!” he said to himself, sniffing as he walked.

Now it happened that he
was not alone in admiring the beauty of that particular night. At ten-fifteen
it had struck Mr. Appleby, looking out of his study into the moonlit school
grounds, that a pipe in the open would make an excellent break in his night’s
work. He had acquired a slight headache as the result of correcting a batch of
examination papers, and he thought that an interval of an hour in the open air
before approaching the half-dozen or so papers which still remained to be
looked at might do him good. The window of his study was open, but the room had
got hot and stuffy. Nothing like a little fresh air for putting him right.

For a
few moments he debated the rival claims of a stroll in the cricket field and a
seat in the garden. Then he decided on the latter. The little gate in the
railings opposite his house might not be open, and it was a long way round to
the main entrance. So he took a deck-chair which leaned against the wall, and
let himself out of the back door.

He took
up his position in the shadow of a fir-tree with his back to the house. From
here he could see the long garden. He was fond of his garden, and spent what
few moments he could spare from work and games pottering about it. He had his
views as to what the ideal garden should be, and he hoped in time to tinker his
own three acres up to the desired standard. At present there remained much to
be done. Why not, for instance, take away those laurels at the end of the lawn,
and have a flower-bed there instead? Laurels lasted all the year round, true,
whereas flowers died and left an empty brown bed in the winter, but then
laurels were nothing much to look at at any time, and a garden always had a
beastly appearance in winter, whatever you did to it. Much better have flowers,
and get a decent show for one’s money in summer at any rate.

The
problem of the bed at the end of the lawn occupied his complete attention for
more than a quarter of an hour, at the end of which period he discovered that
his pipe had gone out.

He was
just feeling for his matches to re-light it when Wyatt dropped with a slight
thud into his favourite herbaceous border.

The
surprise, and the agony of feeling that large shoes were trampling among his
treasures kept him transfixed for just the length of time necessary for Wyatt
to cross the garden and climb the opposite wail. As he dropped into the lane,
Mr. Appleby recovered himself sufficiently to emit a sort of strangled croak,
but the sound was too slight to reach Wyatt. That reveller was walking down the
Wrykyn road before Mr. Appleby had left his chair.

It is
an interesting point that it was the gardener rather than the schoolmaster in
Mr. Appleby that first awoke to action. It was not the idea of a boy breaking
out of his house at night that occurred to him first as particularly heinous;
it was the fact that the boy had broken out
via
his herbaceous border.
In four strides he was on the scene of the outrage, examining, on hands and
knees, with the aid of the moonlight the extent of the damage done.

As far
as he could see, it was not serious. By a happy accident Wyatt’s shoes had gone
home to right and left of precious plants but not on them. With a sigh of
relief, Mr. Appleby smoothed over the cavities, and rose to his feet.

At this
point it began to strike him that the episode affected him as a schoolmaster
also.

In that
startled moment when Wyatt had suddenly crossed his lime of vision, he had
recognized him. The moon had shone full on his face as he left the flower-bed.
There was no doubt in his mind as to the identity of the intruder.

He
paused, wondering how he should act. It was not an easy question. There was
nothing of the spy about Mr. Appleby. He went his way openly, liked and respected
by boys and masters. He always played the game. The difficulty here was to say
exactly what the game was. Sentiment, of course, bade him forget the episode,
treat it as if it had never happened. That was the simple way out of the
difficulty. There was nothing unsporting about Mr. Appleby. He knew that there
were times when a master might, without blame, close his eyes or look the other
way. If he had met Wyatt out of bounds in the daytime, and it had been possible
to convey the impression that he had not seen him, he would have dome so. To be
out of bounds is not a particularly deadly sin. A master must check it if it
occurs too frequently, but he may use his discretion.

Breaking
out at night, however, was a different thing, altogether. It was on another
plane. There are times when a master must waive sentiment, and remember that he
is in a position of trust, and owes a duty directly to his headmaster, and
indirectly, through the headmaster, to the parents. He receives a salary for
doing this duty, and, if he feels that sentiment is too strong for him, he
should resign in favour of someone of tougher fibre.

This
was the conclusion to which Mr. Appleby came over his re-lighted pipe. He could
not let the matter rest where it was.

In
ordinary circumstances it would have been his duty to report the affair to the
headmaster but in the present case he thought that a slightly different course
might be pursued. He would lay the whole thing before Mr. Wain, and leave him
to deal with it as he thought best. It was one of the few cases where it was
possible for an assistant master to fulfil his duty to a parent directly,
instead of through the agency of the headmaster.

Knocking out the ashes of
his pipe against a tree, he folded his deck-chair and went into the house. The
examination papers were spread invitingly on the table, but they would have to
wait. He turned out the light and walked round to Wain’s.

There
was a light in one of the ground-floor windows. He tapped on the window, and
the sound of a chair being pushed back told him that he had been heard. The
blind shot up, and he had a view of a room littered with books and papers, in
the middle of which stood Mr. Wain, like a sea-beast among rocks.

Mr.
Wain recognized his visitor and opened the window. Mr. Appleby could not help
feeling how like Wain it was to work on a warm summer’s night in a hermetically
sealed room. There was always something queer and eccentric about Wyatt’s
step-father.

“Can I
have a word with you, Wain?” he said.

“Appleby!
Is there anything the matter? I was startled when you tapped. Exceedingly so.”

“Sorry,”
said Mr. Appleby. “Wouldn’t have disturbed you, only it’s something important.
I’ll climb in through here, shall I? No need to unlock the door.” And, greatly
to Mr. Wain’s surprise and rather to his disapproval, Mr. Appleby vaulted on to
the window-sill, and squeezed through into the room.

CHAPTER
XXIV

CAUGHT

“GOT some rather bad mews
for you, I’m afraid,” began Mr. Appleby. “I’ll smoke, if you don’t mind. About
Wyatt.”

“James!”

“I was
sitting in my garden a few minutes ago, having a pipe before finishing the rest
of my papers, and Wyatt dropped from the wall on to my herbaceous border.”

Mr. Appleby
said this with a tinge of bitterness. The thing still rankled.

“James!
In your garden! Impossible. Why, it is not a quarter of an hour since I left
him in his dormitory.”

“He’s
not there mow.”

“You
astound me, Appleby. I am astonished.”

“So was
I.”

“How is
such a thing possible? His window is heavily barred.”

“Bars
can be removed.”