Having so far exceeded his instructions, Hibbert thought he might as well go a little further.

"Because I don't believe that the Fifth had anything to do with that notice. It came from Baldry and Moncrief minor. I believe it's a trick."

Paul, beginning to smell a rat, examined the notice with closer attention, and soon detected the erasion where "Fifth" had been subst.i.tuted for "Third Form."

"Thanks, Hibbert. I don't know why you should, but you're always doing me a good turn."

"Not half the good turns you've done me," said the boy earnestly, as he went out.

"What's in the wind?" Paul asked himself, when he was alone. "Bitter as Stanley is against me, he can't have set on his cousin to hoax and poke fun at me. Surely not?"

What was it, then? He could not guess; but it seemed to him that he must have sunk very low indeed in the eyes of the school when he had become a target for the junior forms.

"I must put my foot down on that nonsense," he said to himself, as he paced to and fro the room.

At first he thought of making straight for Baldry and Moncrief minor, and demanding what it meant; but on second thoughts he decided against that course, because it would mean mischief to Hibbert. His life at the school would be made more miserable than it was.

"The best thing after all will be to face it--to accept the invitation of Masters Moncrief and Baldry to the Forum to-night. I run the risk of being laughed at, I know, but I'm getting fairly used to that. And it's just possible I may be able to turn the tables."

Having come to this decision, Paul did the wisest thing possible under the circ.u.mstances--dismissed the matter from his mind, and went on with his work.

Now it so happened that a meeting of the Fifth had really been called for that evening in the Forum, and still stranger to relate, for the express purpose of discussing Paul. The information that he had been seen in the company of Wyndham, and had actually shaken hands with him, had quickly spread, and the meeting of the Fifth had been called for the express purpose of considering this further development in the feud between the Beetles and the Gargoyles. No notice of this meeting had, however, been sent to Paul.

So it was that about the time Paul was getting ready to go to the Forum, little suspecting the proposed meeting, Newall had already started for it, just as ignorant of the little plot that had been hatched by certain members of the Third. Leveson had had some lines which had kept him late in the cla.s.s-room, and Newall had taken his place in getting the shed ready for the meeting. Thus it happened he was in advance of the rest.

It was quite dark as Newall made his way to the shed. Harry Moncrief was hiding at the side, with his whistle between his teeth. The figure coming towards the shed in the darkness he took to be the figure of Paul.

"He's up to time," he chuckled to himself. "He's fallen into the trap beautifully."

Newall reached the door of the shed, opened it, and pa.s.sed in.

Simultaneously Harry blew the whistle. At the signal, Plunger pulled the string which communicated with the basket immediately over the doorway, sending its contents showering down on the head of Newall.

Newall gasped and staggered in the darkness, striking out wildly with his arms. He had a confused idea that some enormous bird of prey had suddenly swooped down from the roof, and was flapping its wings over his head.

"Ooshter--ooshter! Get out of it!" he gasped, as he reeled about and struck out wildly at his imaginary foe.

Meantime Plunger had slid down quickly from the tree, and, accompanied by Viner and Bember, who had been awaiting the signal in the rear, rushed round to the front. The three held on to the door, so as to keep their victim floundering about in the darkness till they saw fit to release him.

"Splendid; couldn't be better," chuckled Plunger. "My, isn't old Baldy carrying on?"

His companions could not answer. They were doing their best to smother their laughter.

"My, he's carrying on awful!" went on Plunger. "Breaking up the happy home. Didn't think Baldy had so much spring in him. Seems to be all over the shop. Do you hear him, Moncrief? Where is Moncrief?"

Moncrief had made himself scarce. He had retreated to a safe distance, where Baldry was awaiting him. By the time he reached him, he, too, was exploding with laughter.

"Well, what's happened?" asked Baldry.

"Oh, don't ask me. It's too funny for words."

"Percival's inside?"

"Percival's inside, ramping about like mad, and Plunger, Viner, and Bember are holding the door outside like grim death, and laughing like hyenas over 'old Baldy.' Good, isn't it?"

On that Baldry was seized with a fit of laughter too.

"Good? The best joke we've had at Garside for a long time," answered Baldry, between gasps. "My, what will happen when they find out their mistake? What will they say when they see Percival stagger out instead of 'old Baldy?'"

"Plunger will stagger the most of the two, I reckon," laughed Harry.

"I just reckon he will."

"And I reckon also that he'd better keep out of the reach of Percival."

"Percival!" echoed Baldry contemptuously. "Percival may ramp a good deal, but he's not likely to do much, I'm thinking, after his exhibition at the sand-pits. Percival is----"

"I beg pardon, but did I hear some one mention my name?" came a quiet voice in the rear of Baldry.

Both boys turned promptly round at the voice. To their amazement Percival was standing before them.

"Per--Percival!" exclaimed Harry.

"Per--Percival!" echoed Baldry.

"I happened to be strolling this way, and thought I heard my name; but perhaps I was mistaken."

The boys could not speak. They could only stare with open mouths at Percival. It was a shadowy figure that stood before them in the darkness. Was it indeed Percival, or was it his ghost?

"Y--y--yes; we--we--were speaking about you," stammered Baldry, at length. "We--were--just wondering--how you were getting on."

"It's very kind of you to think of me," said Paul, with a quiet smile.

Paul, quite ignorant of what had transpired in the shed, thought for the moment whether he had better tackle Baldry and Moncrief minor then and there as to their motive in desiring him to go to the shed, but on second thoughts he decided to find out for himself; so he pa.s.sed on.

"Pinch me--punch me--kick me", exclaimed Harry. "Am I awake or am I dreaming, Baldry?"

"It was Percival right enough."

"Then who--who's--in--the shed?" gasped Harry, a cold perspiration coming to his brow.

"What an idiotic question to ask me," retorted Baldry indignantly. "You ought to know best. Are you sure there's anybody in the shed at all?"

"I'm sure of that. And--and--I could have sworn it was Percival."

"You've made a nice mess of it."

"Well, if I have made a mess of it, I've kept you out of it," retorted Harry, beginning to feel sore at the tone taken by Baldry. "After all, Plunger and the others will be taken in a good deal more than we've been, remember. He still thinks it's you he's got a prisoner."