Ways and Means (15 page)

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 Albert 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.’

‘Indeed? I shall be most interested to hear about him. I always follow up our boys’ careers with great interest. Do you know, madam, that we have produced three cabinet ministers and a field-marshal, not to mention poets, novelists, composers and others — but, tell me, how long ago did he leave?’

‘He’s only just left. I’m afraid it was under rather a cloud.’

‘A cloud, madam?’ He had got into the habit of addressing all his remarks to Elizabeth even when he was answering Basil.

‘A cloud, madam?’ he repeated. ‘But —’ And then the awful thought occurred to him. They couldn’t have come about young Wesley-Hart. He had already had three interviews with the parents and, at the last, he had been compelled to call the porter and ask him to show the lady and gentleman out. He had nearly had to add: ‘Whether they like it or not.’ This lovely creature couldn’t surely have any connexion with that disgraceful episode. But who else could it be? No one but Kenneth Wesley-Hart had left his school under a cloud. Oh dear, oh dear, he thought, and I was going to ask them to tea. I should still like to do so, but I can’t have that dreadful case gone into again. Elizabeth, realizing what was going on, gave him ten rounds rapid and five deliberate. She was a little dismayed to find that, although they all must have hit the target, it remained intact.

‘You can’t be referring to —’ he paused, hoping against hope.

‘To young Wesley-Hart?’ said Basil. ‘Yes, I’m afraid so. We have the boy’s interests very much at heart, and his parents’.’

Elizabeth was now firing steadily, but with too little effect. Mr Riddington stood up.

‘I’m extremely sorry, but the case is closed. Quite closed. Finished. Done with. Over. There is nothing to be said on the subject.’

‘I fully appreciate your feelings,’ said Basil. ‘It must have been most distressing for you.’

‘It was a disgrace,’ said Mr Riddington, ‘and we are trying to forget it.’

‘How well I understand,’ said Elizabeth, firing now almost frantically.

‘The truth is,’ said Basil, ‘that the boy’s parents believe in his innocence, and nothing that anyone can say can shake them.’

‘I’m sorry,’ said Mr Riddington, ‘but there’s nothing more I can do about it. The boy has only himself to blame.’

‘They are talking about bringing a law action to clear his name.’

‘An action?’ said Mr Riddington. ‘I can’t think what for. But they must do as they are advised.’

‘It would be so unpleasant for the school, though, to have Court proceedings.’

‘Most unpleasant, but I can’t help that, I’m afraid. It will be more unpleasant for the parents. Such proceedings are costly, I gather.’

‘They don’t worry about that. They look upon it like the Archer-Shee case and don’t mind what it costs them.’

‘The Archer-Shee case? Oh, yes — you mean the case where a man called Rattigan appeared in some capacity. But there’s nothing I can do. If they choose to make fools of themselves and ruin themselves into the bargain, that’s not my fault.’

‘One thing had occurred to me — and to my wife,’ said Basil, inclining his head slightly towards Elizabeth, who was busy reloading. ‘The Wesley-Harts rely upon us a great deal, and if we can satisfy them that there is nothing more to be done it may be that they’ll take our advice.’

‘But I gather you’ve already so advised them.’

‘We have, but, of course, we’ve never seen the proof for ourselves. Now we’ve seen you and had your assurances on the subject, that should be a help.’

‘Well, you have them.’

‘I wonder if we could also just see the boy Leader? The Wesley-Harts have never seen him. Now, if we could report that we’d seen him and heard his denials and were satisfied that it was hopeless to do anything more, they might at last be persuaded by us.’

‘But why should I do this? Why should the boy Leader be worried any more about it?’

‘For the good of the school, Dr Riddington,’ put in Elizabeth, coupling her remarks with intense rapid fire and giving him a doctorate to which he was not entitled.

‘It would be horrible,’ she went on, ‘to have this lovely school made a headline in the newspapers. You can’t stop people bringing law actions.’

‘Think of the effect on your pupils,’ added Basil. ‘What work would they do while the case was in progress? They’d be reading the papers all the time — that includes the picture papers too.’

‘Picture papers?’ said Mr Riddington, with some horror.

‘Yes, you can’t stop the Press taking photographs, and they get in everywhere. Just imagine “The Hall at The Summit”, “The Baths at The Summit”, “Cricket in progress at The Summit”, “The Laboratory at The Summit”. By mistake it would probably be a picture of the lavatories, but you wouldn’t be able to do anything about it. Then the Press would try to interview your boys. “What do you think of your Headmaster?” they’d ask. The best boys would describe you as you really are, but just think what some of the young rascals .might say. The public would lap it up. It would be horrible and so undeserved.’

‘I should think of you when I read about it,’ said Elizabeth sympathetically, and firing (metaphorically) from the hip.

‘D’you mean to say they could do all this by bringing a trumpery action of some kind which is bound to fail?’

‘Not only could, but will, unless we can stop them. That’s why we’re here. It seemed such a shame,’ said Basil.

‘We hadn’t met you then,’ said Elizabeth, ‘but now that we have, we feel even more strongly about it. Do let us help you,’ she said imploringly, firing volley after volley.

The attack was in too great strength and Mr Riddington capitulated.

‘Well,’ he said, ‘there can be no great harm in your seeing the boy. And, if that will finish it all, I shall be much indebted to you, madam.’

‘How wise you are,’ said Elizabeth, and relaxed. She was now only firing an occasional sniping shot, just to make him keep his head down.

Mr Riddington rang the bell and told the porter to bring Leader to him. The boy soon arrived.

‘These are my friends.’ At the word ‘friends’ Mr Ridding-ton paused and looked for a second at Elizabeth to see if she confirmed the word. She did, and he went on: ‘My friends, Mr and Mrs Merridew.’

Leader looked at them, but said nothing.

‘Come along, my boy, where are your manners? Say how d’you do?’

Basil and Elizabeth shook hands with the boy, and then Mr Riddington continued:

‘Now, my boy, I’m sorry to have to worry you again but, for reasons which don’t really concern you, I want you to assure my friends that it was Wesley-Hart who cheated last term and not you.’

Leader remained silent.

‘Come along, my boy, speak up,’ said Mr Riddington. ‘I expect he’s nervous,’ he added. ‘There’s no need to be, my boy. There’s nothing to worry about. Just say that to Mr and Mrs Merridew and then you may go.’

Leader still said nothing. Mr Riddington became a little irritated.

‘Come along now. Do what you’re told,’ he said.

‘I can’t,’ said Leader.

‘Nonsense, boy. There’s nothing to be ashamed of. You didn’t give the boy away. On the contrary, in a misguided sense of loyalty, you stood up for him until I found out the truth. Now that that is known, there’s no need whatever for you to behave like this. Come along, then, speak up.’

‘I can’t,’ repeated Leader.

‘You not only can, but you will,’ said Mr Riddington, who did not like the lovely Elizabeth to see him almost defied by a small boy.

‘You wouldn’t have me lie to them, sir, would you?’ said Leader.

‘Of course not. I only want the truth. Repeat what you told me — that it wasn’t you who cheated.’