"Don't you think, Mr Bickers, you might with advantage go and see how your own house is getting on in your absence?"

Mr Bickers smiled.

"Happily, I have responsible prefects. However, now you are back--and if you are not going out again--I will say good-night."

Railsford said "Good-night," and disregarding the proffered hand of his colleague, walked moodily up to his own room.

He may be excused if he was put out and miserable. He was in the wrong, and he knew it. And yet the manner in which the rebuke had been administered was such as no man of spirit could cheerfully endure. The one idea in his mind was, not how to punish the house for its disorder, but how to settle scores with Bickers for restoring order; not how to admonish the incompetent prefects, but how to justify them against their accuser.

He sent for the four prefects to his room before bed hour. Ainger and Barnworth, it was plain to see, had been informed of all that had happened, and were in a more warlike mood even than their two companions.

"I hear," said Railsford, "that there was a disturbance in the house while I was away for a short time this evening. Ainger and Barnworth of course were out too, but I should like to hear from you, Stafford and Felgate, what it was all about."

Stafford allowed Felgate to give his version; which was, like most of Felgate's versions, decidedly apocryphal.

"There was rather a row, sir," said he, "among some of the juniors.

Some of them were wrestling, I fancy. As soon as we saw what was going on, Stafford and I came to stop it, when Mr Bickers turned up and sent us to our rooms. We told him we had been left in charge by you, but he would not listen."

"Very annoying!" said the master.

"It's rather humiliating to our house, sir," said Ainger, "if our prefects are not to be allowed to deal with our own fellows."

"I agree with you," said Mark, warmly. "I have no reason whatever for doubting that they can and will do their duty when--"

He had intended to say "when they are not interfered with," but deemed it more prudent to say, "when occasion requires."

"We could easily have stopped the row, sir," said Stafford, "if we had been allowed to do so."

"I have no doubt of it," said the master. "I am glad to have had this little explanation. The honour of our house is of common interest to all of us."

A week ago this speech would have seemed a mere commonplace exhortation, but under present circ.u.mstances it had a double meaning for those present.

"He's a brick," said Ainger, as they returned to their studies. "He means to back us up, after all, and pay Bickers out."

"What surprises me," said Barnworth, "is that Stafford, the bull-dog, did not invite the intruder out into the square and impress the honour of our house with two black marks on each of his eyes."

"I'm just as glad," said Felgate, "it's all happened. We shouldn't have got Railsford with us if--"

"If you'd done your duty, and stopped the row the moment it began," said Ainger; who, with all his jealousy for his house, had no toleration for humbug, even in a prefect whose cause he espoused. So Railsford's house went to bed that night in a warlike mood.

CHAPTER SEVEN.

THE SESSION OF MASTERS AND AN OUTRAGE.

It is to be feared that Mark Railsford, Moral Science man though he was, had yet to learn the art of applying his philosophy to his own circ.u.mstances, or he would never have committed the serious error, on the day following the event recorded in the last chapter, of writing the following foolish note to Mr Bickers:--

"_February_ 1.

"Sir,--Referring to the unpleasant topic of our conversation last night, I have since consulted my prefects on the matter, and made other inquiries as to what took place here during my temporary absence at the athletic meeting. The report I have received, and which I am disposed to credit, differs materially from your own version. In any case, allow me to say that I require no a.s.sistance in the management of my house.

When I do, I shall ask for it. Meanwhile I shall continue to consider the interference of anyone, whatever his motives, as an impertinence which I, although the junior master at Grandcourt, shall have no hesitation in resenting to the utmost of my power. I trust these few lines may obviate any future misunderstanding on a point about which I feel very strongly.

"Yours, etcetera,

"M. Railsford."

Mr Bickers was hardly the man to neglect the opportunity afforded by this letter for a crushing reply; and accordingly he spend a pleasant hour that same afternoon in concocting the following polite rejoinder:--

"_February_ 1.

"Dear Railsford,--Many thanks for your note just to hand. I can quite believe that the version of yesterday's proceedings which you are disposed to credit, given by your prefects (two of whom were absent, and the other two partic.i.p.ators in the disturbance), differs materially from my own. Such diversities of opinion are not uncommon in my experience.

As to the management of your house, I a.s.sure you in what I did yesterday I had no intention of a.s.sisting you. In fact, you were not there to a.s.sist. It was because you were not, that my duty to the school suggested that I should attempt to do what you would have done infinitely better, I am aware, had you been on the spot. Under similar circ.u.mstances I should do the same again, in face of the uncomfortable knowledge that thereby I should be guilty of an impertinence to the junior master at Grandcourt. It is kind of you to take steps to make your meaning quite clear on this matter.

May I suggest that we refer the matter to the session of masters, or, if you prefer it, to Dr Ponsford? I believe the masters meet to-night.

Unless I hear from you, I shall conclude you are as anxious as I am to have the matter thoroughly gone into by a competent tribunal, to obviate any future misunderstanding on a point on which you naturally feel strongly.

"Believe me, my dear Railsford,

"Yours, very truly,

"T. Bickers."

Mark was entertaining company when this uncomfortable letter arrived, in the person of Monsieur Lablache, the French master. It would be difficult to say what there was in the unpopular foreigner which attracted the Master of the Sh.e.l.l. It may have been a touch of Quixotic chivalry which led him to defy all the traditions of the place and offer his friendship to the best-hated person in Grandcourt; or it may have been a feeling that monsieur was hardly judged by his colleagues and pupils. However it was, during the short time the term had run, the two men had struck up an acquaintance which perplexed a great many spectators and displeased a great many more.

"I think you should be careful with Lablache," said Grover to his friend. "Not that I know anything against him, but his reputation in the school is rather doubtful."

"I suppose the reputation of all detention masters is doubtful," said Railsford, laughing; "yours or mine would be if we had his work to do.

But a man is innocent till he is proved guilty in England, isn't he?"

"Quite so," said Grover. "I don't want to set you against him, for, as I say, I know nothing of him. All I mean, is, that you must be prepared to share a little of his unpopularity if you take up with him. That's all."

"I'll take my chance of that," said Railsford.

The first time Monsieur Lablache appeared in Railsford's house, in response to an invitation from the new master to come and take coffee, there was considerable excitement in the house. The juniors considered their liberty was at stake, and hissed their master's guest down the corridors. The Sh.e.l.l boys presumed still further, and raised a cry of "Turn him out!" and some even attempted to hustle him and trip him upon the stairs.

But the most curious incident of that untriumphal progress was when Munger, the cad of the Fifth, confronted monsieur in the lobby outside Railsford's room with the shout, "He's going to raise money on his old clothes at last!" The brutal words (for monsieur was very shabbily attired) were scarcely uttered when Railsford's door suddenly opened and Munger was sent reeling across the lobby under a blow which echoed through the house. The Master of the Sh.e.l.l, white with rage, stood there with a look on his face which sent the few loiterers packing to their dens, and made Munger only sorry the wall against which he staggered did not open and let him through.

"Come here, you--you boy!"

Munger advanced, scarcely less pale than his master.

"Apologise to Monsieur Lablache--here, down on your knees--for behaving like a blackguard, and saying what you did!"

"No, it is no matter," began monsieur, with a shrug, when Mark checked him by a gesture almost as intimidating as that by which he had just summoned the offender.

"You hear me?" he said to the boy.

Munger went down on his knees and repeated whatever he was told; and would have called himself by still worse names, had he been requested.