Stephen, who was combining the duties of master of the ceremonies with those of president, rose and said to the company, "All turn round, and don't look till I tell you."

Of course every one pretended to turn round, and of course everybody looked as hard as he could. And they saw Bramble hop up on a chair and lower the gas, to represent night. And they saw Paul and Padger stick up two or three forms on end, to represent a castle. And they saw two other boys walk majestically on to the platform in ulsters and billyc.o.c.k hats, and their trousers turned up, and sticks in their hands to represent soldiers.

"Now you can turn round," cried Stephen.

They did turn round, just at the very moment when Bramble, attempting to lower the gas still further, turned it right out. The effect was remarkable. No one and nothing was visible, but out of the black darkness came the following singular dialogue:--

"_Who's there_?"

"Have you got a lucifer about you, any of you?"

"_Nay, answer me. Stand and unfold yourself_."

"Don't be a fool (in agitated accents); you're shoving me off the platform."

"Why don't you light up?"

"_Long live the king_."

"Ah, here's one. What's become of the chair?"

Next moment, amid great applause, the gas was re-lit, and the thrilling tragedy proceeded.

It went on all right till the ghost enters, and here another calamity occurred. Padger was acting ghost, dressed up in a long sheet, and with flour on his face. Being rather late in coming on, he did so at a very unghostlike pace, and in the hurry tripped up on the bottom of his sheet, falling flop on the platform, which, being none of the cleanest, left an impression of dust on his face and garment, which greatly added to the horror of his appearance. He recovered the perpendicular with the help of two soldiers and a few friends, and was about to proceed with his part, when the door suddenly opened and Mr Rastle appeared.

He had evidently not come to see the show--indeed he hardly seemed aware that a show was going on. His face was grave, and his voice agitated, as he said--

"Has any one here seen Loman?"

No one had seen him since breakfast that morning.

"Is Greenfield senior here?"

"Yes, sir," answered Oliver.

"Will you come with me to the Doctor at once, please?"

Oliver was out in the pa.s.sage in a moment, and hurrying with the master to Dr Senior's study.

"I'm afraid," said Mr Rastle, as they went--"I'm afraid something has happened to Loman!"

CHAPTER THIRTY SIX.

MISSING.

Slowly Oliver followed Mr Rastle to the Doctor's study with strange forebodings at heart.

What the "something that must have happened to Loman" could be, he could not conjecture; but the recollection of his unhappy schoolfellow's troubles and of his difficulties, and--worse still--of his dishonesty (for Oliver had no doubt in his mind that Loman had taken the examination paper), all came to his mind now with terrifying force.

Oliver had never been fond of Loman, as the reader knows, but somehow there are times when one forgets whether one is fond of another person or not, and Oliver felt as if he would give anything now to be sure--

Here he was at the Doctor's study.

Dr Senior was standing at the fireplace with a very grave look, holding a letter in his hand.

"Greenfield," said he, the moment the boy entered, "when did you see Loman last?"

"Last night, sir, after preparation."

"He was not in his cla.s.s this morning?"

"No, sir--he sent down word he had a headache."

"You saw him last night--where?"

"In my study."

The Doctor paused uncomfortably, and Mr Rastle put in a question.

"Are you and Loman great friends?"

"No, we are not friends."

"Does he often come to your study?"

"No, sir. Very rarely."

"May I ask, Greenfield," said the Doctor, "why he was in your study last night?"

This was getting close quarters for Oliver, who, however, had made up his mind he must, if put to it, say all he knew.

"He came to--to ask me about something."

"Yes, what?"

"He made me promise not to tell any one."

"Greenfield," said the Doctor, seriously, "Loman has disappeared from Saint Dominic's. Why, I cannot say. If you know of anything which will account for this proceeding, you owe it to yourself, to me, and to your schoolfellow, who may yet be recovered, to speak plainly now."

The Doctor's voice, which had been stern when he began to speak, betrayed his emotion before the sentence was ended, and Oliver surrendered without further demur.

"He came to borrow some money," he replied.

"Yes," said the Doctor.

Oliver had nothing for it but to narrate all he knew of Loman's recent money difficulties, of his connection with Cripps, and of his own and Wraysford's share in helping him out of his straits.