Poor Railsford subsided, full of confusion, stripped of his good resolutions, abusing himself for his folly, and wishing Monsieur Lablache and his advice at the bottom of the sea.

What Mr Smith and the other masters who followed had to say he neither heard nor cared. His determination to admit his own error had oozed away, and he resolved that if his story was to be kept waiting, it should be none the sweeter, when it did come, for the delay.

Several topics were discussed pleasantly, with a view to elicit the opinion of the meeting on small questions of policy and discipline.

Presently Mr Roe turned to Bickers. "I think you said you had some question to ask, Mr Bickers?"

"Oh, well, yes. Mine's quite a hypothetical point, though," began Mr Bickers, airily. "I just wanted to ask, supposing one of us becomes aware of a riot in a neighbouring house, during the absence of the master of that house, and ascertains, moreover, that the prefects on duty, so far from making any attempt to control the disorder, are partic.i.p.ating in it, I presume there can be no question that it would be the duty of anyone of us to interfere in such a case? It's quite a hypothetical case, mind, but it might occur."

"Certainly, I should say, if you were quite sure the proper house authorities were not there to enforce order," said Mr Roe.

"Of course," said Grover; "but it's rather an unlikely case, isn't it?"

"It occurred in my house last night," broke in Railsford, hotly. "I was at the Athletic Union, and two of my prefects; the other two were left in charge. Mr Bickers took upon himself to interfere in my absence, and I have written to tell him that I consider his action impertinent, and resent it. In reply, he writes--"

"A _private_ letter," interposed Mr Bickers hurriedly, evidently not relishing the prospect of having his effusion read.

"It was not marked 'private,' but I can quite understand the writer would not like to hear it read aloud here. All I wish to say is that his hypothetical case is no more hypothetical than his interference was in the affairs of my house; and that if he asks my opinion on the matter, I shall tell him he would do better to mind his own business!"

Railsford sat down, very hot, and painfully conscious that he had not exhibited the moderation and temper which he had promised himself to observe.

An embarra.s.sed silence ensued. Mr Roe, a man of peace, frowned, and turned inquiringly to Bickers.

Bickers stroked his beard and smiled, and said nothing.

"Do you wish to say anything?" asked the chairman.

"By no means. Mr Railsford has said all I could wish said far more eloquently than I could. Shall we go on to the next business, Mr Chairman?"

As for Railsford, the further proceeding had no interest for him, and he vanished the moment the meeting was over, without speaking to anyone.

As Mr Bickers walked off towards his house, he really felt a little sorry for his fellow-master, who had let himself down by so paltry an exhibition of temper thus early in his career. However, no doubt he would take to heart to-night's lesson, and do himself more justice in future. Mr Bickers, in the fulness of his heart, took a little round of the big square on his way home, with the double intent of giving himself the air, and perchance intercepting, for the good of the school, one or more youthful night-birds in their truant excursions. This was a kind of sport in which Mr Bickers was particularly successful, and which, therefore (as became a successful sportsman), he rather enjoyed.

To his credit be it said, he was strictly impartial in his dealings; whether the culprit belonged to his own house (as often happened) or to another's, he was equally down upon him, and was never known to relax his penalties for the most plausible excuse set up by his ingenious victims.

To-night it seemed as if he would return without a "bag" at all, and he was about to resign himself to his disappointment, when his quick eyes detected in the darkness a hovering shadow moving ahead of him in the direction of Railsford's house. It vanished almost immediately, but not before the master had caught a faintly uttered "Hist!" which betrayed that he had to deal with more than one truant. He quickened his pace a little, and came once more in view of the phantom slinking along by the wall at a pace which was not quite a run. Rather to Mr Bickers's surprise the fugitive pa.s.sed the door of Railsford's, and made straight on towards the chapel, slackening pace as he did so.

"A decoy," said the knowing master to himself. "Employed to draw me on while the rest make good their retreat. There is a touch of generosity in the decoy which one is bound to admire; but on this occasion, my young friend, you are dealing with rather too aged a bird to be caught--"

At this moment he had come up to the door of Railsford's, and before his soliloquy had been able to advance by another word he seemed to see sparks before his eyes, while at the same moment his feet went from under him, and something was drawn over his head. The bag, or whatever it was, was capacious; for the neck of it descended to his waist, and closed by the magic of a slip-knot round his mouth and elbows before he had the presence of mind to shout or throw out his arms. To complete his misfortune, as he tried to raise himself, another noose was snugly cast around his feet, and thus gagged and pinioned, silently, rapidly, and dexterously, Mr Bickers found himself in a situation in which, he could positively aver, he had never stood--or lain--before.

The thought did flash through his sack-enveloped head, that his a.s.sailants, whoever they were, must have rehea.r.s.ed this little comedy carefully and diligently for a day or two, in order to arrive at the perfection displayed in the present performance. He also made a mental calculation that three, possibly four, fellow-beings were engaged on the job, of whom two were strong, and two were small; one of the latter possibly being the decoy whom he had so lately apostrophised.

Not a syllable was uttered during the ceremony; and the victim recognising his position, had the good sense to remain cool and not waste his time and dignity in a fruitless struggle.

The pinioning being complete, and a small hole being considerately opened in the sack in the region of the nose for purposes of respiration, he was hauled up one or two steps, dragged one or two feet, deposited on the board floor of the shoe-cupboard, and, after a few mild and irresolute kicks, left to his own meditations, the last sound which penetrated into the sack being the sharp turning of a key on the outside of his dungeon door.

"So," soliloquised Mr Bickers, after discovering that he was unhurt, though uncomfortably cramped, "our friend Railsford is having one lodger more than the regulation number to-night. This will make another hypothetical case for the next session of masters!"

CHAPTER EIGHT.

THE DOCTOR HAS A WORD OR TWO WITH RAILSFORD'S HOUSE.

Railsford's house was not famous for early risers. The chapel-bell in winter began to ring at 7.30, and "call-over" was at 7.45. Between these two periods, but chiefly at the 7.45 end, most of the rising in the house was accomplished. Master Simson, the Sh.e.l.l-fish, was in for the hundred yards under fourteen at the sports; and being a shy youth who did not like to practise in public, he had determined to rise before the lark and take a furtive spin round the school track while his schoolfellows and enemies slept. It was a cold, raw morning, and before he was fully arrayed in his flannels he had had more than one serious idea of relapsing into bed. Be it said to his credit, he resisted the temptation, and gallantly finished his toilet, putting on an extra "sweater" and pea-jacket to boot--for he had seven pounds to run off between now and the sports. He peered out of the window; it was dark, but a patter on the panes showed him that a light sleet was falling outside. If so, being of a frugal mind, he would not run in his new shoes, but in his old boots.

Now, his old boots were in the cupboard under the staircase by the front door. And the reader understands at last why it is I have taken so much trouble to describe Master Simson's movements on this particular morning.

It was so rare an event for any boy to be up at six o'clock on a winter morning in Railsford's, that no one had ever thought about making a rule to prevent the early birds leaving the house at that hour, if they could succeed in getting out. Simson, who had interest with the cook, believed he could get an _exeat_ through the kitchen window; meanwhile he must get his boots. He armed himself with a match--the last one in the box--and quietly felt his way along the corridor and down the stairs. There was a glimmer of light from under the maids' door as he pa.s.sed, which told him they were up and that he would not have long to wait downstairs. At the foot of the stairs he turned sharp round, and following the wall with his hand, came at length on the familiar handle of the "boot-box." To his surprise the door was locked, but the key was on the outside.

"A sell if I hadn't been able to get in," said he to himself, opening the door.

Now Simson, like a cautious youth, aware of the frailty of matches, wisely resolved to penetrate as far as possible into the interior of the cupboard, in the direction in which he knew his particular boots to be, before striking a light.

But at the first step he tripped on something and fell prostrate over a human carcase, which emitted a m.u.f.fled gasp and moved heavily as he tumbled upon it. Then there went up a yell such as curdled the blood of half Railsford's as they lay in their beds, and made the domestics up- stairs cling to one another in terror, as if their last moment had come.

Simson, with every hair on his head erect, made a frantic dive out of that awful den, banging the door and locking it behind him in a frenzy of fright. Then he dashed up-stairs, and plunged, as white as his shirt, into the dormitory.

Another yell signalised his arrival. Not his, this time, but the joint performance of the other occupants of the room, who, sitting up with their chins on their knees, half petrified by the horror of the first shriek, now gave themselves up for lost when the door broke open in the dark, and a gasping something staggered into the room.

"There's some--bo--dy been mur--dered," gasped Simson, "in the bo--ot- box!"

Everybody was on his feet in a moment.

"Murdered?"

"Yes," said Simson, wonderfully comforted by the noise and general panic. "I got up early, you know, to have a grind on the track, and went to get my boots, and--I--I fell over it!"

"Over what?"

"The bo--od--y," whispered Simson.

"Has anybody got a light?" shouted Arthur.

But at that moment a light appeared at the door, and Ainger came in.

"What's all this row--what's the matter?"

"Simson says somebody's been murdered in the boot-box," replied Arthur.

"I say, hadn't we better go and see?"

It was a practical suggestion. The corridor was already full of half- dressed inquirers, and a moment later Mr Railsford's door opened. The story was repeated to him.

"Come with me, Ainger," said he, quietly; "the rest of you return to your dormitories, and remain there."

Arthur, seized by a n.o.ble desire not to leave his future kinsman unprotected in such an hour of peril, elected to disregard this last order, and, accompanied by his henchman, followed the candle at a respectful distance down the stairs.

"There's no blood on the stairs," observed the baronet, in a whisper.