Stanley took it in his, and shook it heartily.

"Thanks; I am very sorry it was raised against you. But we understand one another better now."

Stanley wiped away the mist that had somehow gathered in his eyes, and when he could see clear Wyndham had gone.

Then he went in search of Paul, anxious to ask his forgiveness, and undo, as best he could, the mischief that had been done. But he could not find him.

He searched everywhere with the same result. And, what was still more astonishing, his cousin was also missing.

Night came on, and still Paul and Harry were missing from the school.

Mr. Weevil began to get alarmed. It was past ten, and still no news of the missing boys. What had become of them?

CHAPTER XLVII

IN THE FOX'S HOLE

What had become of Paul? What was the cause of his absence from the school? Had he heard of the decision come to by his Form, and instead of waiting to be expelled, had he left of his own accord? That was the view of Newall and others of the Fifth.

"About the best thing he could have done," said Parfitt. "It wasn't only the flag business, but there were other things in the background. The Black Book business has never been cleared up, you know."

Parfitt made this remark in his most significant manner, with uplifted eyebrows and a shrug of the shoulders.

"That's right. Kick a man when he's down," drawled Waterman. "Parfitt's better at a drop kick than any fellow I know."

The Third were just as much concerned over the disappearance of Moncrief, jun., as the Fifth were over the disappearance of Percival.

Stanley was doubly anxious--anxious for Paul, anxious for his cousin.

Could they have gone away together? That was scarcely likely. They were hardly on speaking terms for one thing; and even if the idea of running away from Garside had suddenly come into Paul's head, it was not at all likely that he had induced Harry to run away with him. What, then, had happened?

While the school was thus anxiously awaiting news of the missing boys, we will try to explain what had really happened.

Paul knew that a meeting of his Form had been called, and that he and his doings were to be discussed, probably censured. When would the time arrive that he might take steps to defend himself? When would his lips be unsealed? How much longer would Mr. Moncrief keep him in suspense, and what had become of Zuker?

Unconsciously Paul had strayed from the school to the garden where Hibbert had, not so long since, fallen asleep--in the sleep that knows no waking. He sat for a long time under the tree, thinking of these things, with no one to disturb his thoughts, save the birds that fluttered around him as they used to flutter around Hibbert.

What had become of Hibbert's father? Again and again the question came to him, and he could not dismiss it from his thoughts. He thought of the strange circ.u.mstance under which he had last seen him--of that weird scene in the cave with the man Brockman. All that had happened at that interview was fixed indelibly on his memory. He could see Zuker tracing with his finger on the chart the pa.s.sage of the Dutch to the Medway--could hear his voice as he described all that had happened as they broke the chain on the river and advanced on Upnor Castle.

Then--then had followed the strange appearance of the master, and the still stranger interview between him and Zuker.

Was the cave still there? Often and often a strong desire had seized Paul to go there again, but he had resisted it. Now, however, as he thought of all that had happened on the evening he went there, the impulse grew so strong upon him that he could wrestle with it no longer.

He must respond to its call.

So, as one under some mighty spell, Paul pa.s.sed from the garden, and was soon on his way to Cranstead Common.

It was beginning to get dusk as he followed the trail along which he had once followed in the footsteps of Mr. Weevil. After travelling some time in the direction of the river, he came to the thickly-wooded part, where the master had disappeared.

Searching amongst the brambles, he found the curious division which marked the centre, and placing his hand beneath the bushes as before, he was not long in finding the ring that was attached to the circular opening. Raising it, he entered again the sloping tunnel cut in the sandstone.

Though he had only been in that tunnel once before, he had travelled along it so often in imagination since that it seemed to him he was on familiar ground. He had hesitated when he first entered it. He knew not whither it would lead him, what dangers might meet him on the way. He hesitated no longer. Still he walked cautiously, with his hands before him, like a blind man in the darkness, until it began to broaden. Once he thought he heard footsteps behind him, and he came to a sudden pause.

Was some one really following him, or was it only the echo of his own footsteps?

He listened attentively, but could hear nothing. It was as silent as the tomb.

"My ears must have deceived me," he told himself, as he continued his way.

Presently he came to that part of the tunnel where a faint film of light penetrated into it, and again the fantastic shadows he had before seen seemed to menace him at every footstep he took. The cave, then, was not deserted. It was still inhabited by some one. Who? Zuker and Brockman--the same tenants as before, or had some one else come into possession?

Yes, there was the curtain, partly concealing the main entrance to the cave. To reach it, he crawled on hands and knees as before, and peered through the s.p.a.ce between the curtain and the wall.

There was no anthracite fire burning this time. It was dimly lighted by one of the lamps suspended from the roof. There was no sign of life. The place seemed deserted.

Paul waited for a long time listening. No sound came from the cave. It was as silent as the tomb. But as he listened, he thought that he could again hear the sound of a light step behind him, coming along the path he had travelled.

Was it possible that some one else had entered the tunnel? Surely the master had not again followed unconsciously in his footsteps? Paul turned his head and listened, but it was as silent in that direction as the other.

"I'm getting as nervous as a kitten," he laughed to himself. "My ears have again deceived me."

No one appeared to be in the cave. Mr. Moncrief had said in his letter that he knew about Zuker's movements. Could it have been that he had been arrested? It was just possible. Anyhow, he would like to have a nearer view of the cave. There could be no danger, and if there were, it was worth the risk.

So Paul rose from his hiding-place behind the curtain, and stepped cautiously into the cave. The guns and cutla.s.ses were still hanging on the wall, but the models and designs had gone, and the photographic camera had gone from its niche.

There was a pa.s.sage on the other side of the chamber similar to the one through which he had come.

"Where does that lead to, I wonder?" thought Paul.

There could be no harm in exploring it a little way. He might just as well know where it led to, if it were possible to find out. The information might be useful. Paul was animated with the adventurous spirit of the explorer, which knows no rest until it is satisfied. He crossed to the opening. At the moment he reached it, a figure emerged from the darkness, and confronted him. It was Zuker.

It was so sudden, so unexpected, that Paul could not move. He stood there as one rooted to the spot. Before he could move, the man had sprung upon him with the swiftness of a tiger, and seizing him by the throat, dragged him to the light.

"You!" he cried. "The boy from Garside. Your name is----"

"Paul Percival," gasped Paul, as the fierce grip relaxed.

"Paul Percival. _Ach Himmel!_ It is Fate itself."

He had in turn shrunk back, as though Paul were no longer a being of flesh and blood, but a phantom. Then he murmured hoa.r.s.ely to himself: "Weevil was right. The hand of a Higher than man is in it."

In the uncertain light he had not at first recognized Paul; but now he saw him, and knew that just as he had once been face to face with the father at a supreme crisis in his life, now he was face to face with the son. Had Paul seized that moment of stupefaction, he might have escaped, but he made no effort. And the moment pa.s.sed.

"Who showed you this place? Who brought you here?" demanded Zuker, himself again.

"No one; I found it out myself."

"How?"