Towards dawn the rain ceased, and the three watchers, despite all their efforts, became drowsy. When Farmer White and two of his men arrived on the scene with a long ladder and a rope, they had to stand and shout from below for a minute or so before Railsford started into wakefulness and remembered where he was. As for Dig, he lay with his cheek buried in the wet ivy, sleeping as soundly as if he had been in the dormitory at school.

It was no easy task to get Arthur down from his dizzy perch. In the first place, he was so sound asleep that it was impossible to rouse him from below; consequently he could give no a.s.sistance in his own rescue.

The ladder was far too short to reach within a quarter of the distance of where he was; and for a long time it seemed as if the ropes might as well have been left at home.

At length, however, by a combined effort the ladder was hoisted on to the top of the wall, and so elevated it reached a point on the arch above the place where the stones had given way. The difficulty was to secure it on the narrow ledge in any way so that it could be ascended safely. When, finally, by dint of careful adjustment and rigid holding at the bottom, it was p.r.o.nounced reasonably safe, Dig was most eager to volunteer the ascent, urging that he was the lightest weight, and that the four men could do more good in holding the ladder.

"The lad's right," said the farmer; "let him go up."

Railsford was forced to consent. It would have been obviously risky for a heavy man to ascend that rickety ladder. Dig rarely felt so proud and happy as when he skipped lightly up the rungs and reached the ivy- covered masonry of the arch.

It was not a difficult climb to the top, and it was as well it was not, for in his eagerness he forgot the admonitions of caution he had received below, and scrambled up as recklessly as if he had been ascending a London tramcar. His heart beat as at last he came upon his dear old friend.

Arthur sat sound asleep, his hands behind his head, his legs hanging over the edge of the arch, and his back propped in the angle formed by the junction of the window and the fragment of the old roof. Lucky for him was that natural armchair; for without it, at the first fall of sleep, he would undoubtedly have rolled from his perch into the depths below. Dig approached him gently and discreetly.

"Nearly time to get up, old chappie," said he, laying his hand on the sleeper's arm to prevent any sudden start.

That "nearly" was a stroke of genius. Had he incautiously announced that the chapel-bell had begun to ring, or that he would be late for call-over, the result might have been fatal.

As it was, Arthur opened his eyes lazily and yawned--

"All serene. Why, hullo, I say! Is that you, Dig, old man?"

"Yes, rather! Sit steady; we've got a ladder and ropes, and Marky's just down there. How are you?"

Arthur rubbed his eyes, and his teeth chattered.

"Pretty cold and stiff, old man. How jolly of you to come! You see, the mortar or something slipped, and I couldn't get up or down. I yelled, but you'd gone. At last I managed to get up again, and there I've stuck. How are we going down now?"

"They've got the ladder up just below us, if you can manage to get down so far."

Arthur began to move his stiff limbs one by one, by way of judging what he could do.

Dig, meanwhile, shouted down that he was safe up, and Arthur was all right.

"Not time for another try at the owls," said the latter, getting one foot up and trying to rise.

"Owls be hanged," said Dig, helping his friend gingerly to his feet.

"I feel like a poker," said Arthur. "Shouldn't care to run a mile just now."

"n.o.body wants you to. What you've got to do is to dig hold of the ivy with your hands and let yourself down. I'll go first and take care of your feet."

"Awfully brickish of you, Dig," said Arthur. "I'm sorry I'm such a lout. I feel as if my joints want oiling."

"Come on," said Dig.

The descent was slow, and for poor Arthur painful; but, thanks to the ivy and Dig's steady steering, it was in due time accomplished safely, and the top of the ladder reached.

"Now, then, one at a time," shouted the farmer.

"He can't go alone," called Dig; "he's too stiff. Won't it bear both of us?"

The unanimous opinion below was that it would not. Even Dig's weight as he went up had been as much as they could manage.

Finally Railsford suggested that a rope should be thrown up, which Dig could tie round Arthur's body, and so support him from above as he came down.

The plan was a good one, and Arthur contrived by its help to lower himself down the steps into the arms of his rescuers.

Dig was not long in following; and five minutes later the party was standing, safe and sound and thankful, on the greensward of the abbey floor. The farmer insisted on taking them all to his house, and comforting their souls and bodies with a hot breakfast in front of a blazing fire. After which he ordered out his trap and drove them himself up to Grandcourt.

The first getting-up bell was ringing as they drove into the quadrangle, and at the sound of the wheels half a dozen anxious watchers darted out to welcome their return. Still more shouted down greetings from the dormitory window, and Arthur and Dig, had they been in the mood for lionising, might have had their heads turned by the excitement which their reappearance seemed to produce. But they were neither of them in a mood for anything but going to bed. For, after the excitement of the night and morning, a reaction had set in, and their heads ached and their bodies were done out. They even resisted Railsford's recommendation of a hot bath, and took possession of the dormitory and curled themselves up to sleep, leaving Fate or anyone else to explain their absence for the next few hours to the authorities below.

As for Railsford, after seeing his young charges stowed away in their berths, he shook himself together, took his cold bath, and walked over to breakfast with Grover, none the worse for the fatigues and exposure of that eventful night.

"Have you seen the doctor yet?" inquired Grover, when the meal was over.

"I suppose not. He was asking for you particularly last night."

"What for, do you know?"

"I don't. I was wondering if you did, for I imagine from his manner it is something important."

"Oh, I know; I had to report one of my prefects yesterday for gambling.

No doubt it is in connection with that."

"Perhaps. You know it seems a great pity you and Bickers. .h.i.t it so badly. Bickers seems to have a preposterous notion in his head that you are in some way responsible for what happened to him last term. He even wanted to bring the matter up in the last session of masters in your absence; and when we stopped it he promised to return to it at the next."

"Oh, Bickers!" said Railsford scornfully. "I am really tired of him, Grover. It's the greatest pity he wasn't allowed to say what he had to say at that meeting. He will never be happy till he has it off his mind; and it surely wouldn't be necessary for me to take any notice of his rhodomontades."

"I'm glad you are so little concerned about them. I was afraid they might be worrying you."

Railsford smiled.

"I've plenty in my own house to do that, thanks. No, all I ask is to keep the peace with Bickers, and have nothing to do with him. He may then say anything he likes. Well, I suppose I had better go over to the doctor's now and report myself."

The doctor received Railsford coldly, and required a full account of the strange adventures of the preceding night. Railsford felt a little hurt at his evident want of sympathy in his story, and was beginning to look out for a chance of escaping, when Doctor Ponsford said--

"I wanted to see you last night about Felgate, your prefect. I had a very unsatisfactory interview with him. He appears to lack principle, and, as you said, not to recognise his responsibility in the house. He tried to shift the blame for this gambling business wholly upon Mills-- who, by the way, I flogged--and could not be brought to see that there was anything wrong in his conduct or unbecoming in a senior boy. I think it may be well to remove him next term, either into my house or Mr Roe's; meanwhile he understands that he does not retain his prefecture in yours."

"I am thankful for such an arrangement," said Railsford.

"That, however, is only part of what I had to say to you. Before he left he brought a most extraordinary charge against you which I should certainly have disregarded, had it not coincided strangely with a similar charge made elsewhere. I only repeat it to you in order to give you an opportunity of repudiating it. It had relation to the outrage which was committed on Mr Bickers last term, for which your house still lies in disgrace. He stated that you knew more about that mystery than anyone else at Grandcourt, and, indeed, gave me the impression, from the language he used, that he actually considers you yourself were the perpetrator of the outrage. That, of course, is the mere wild talk of a revengeful ill-doer."

Railsford laughed a short uneasy laugh. Had the doctor worded the question in slightly different form, it might have been difficult to answer it as decisively as he could now.

"It is; and if he were here to hear me I would say that it is as absolutely and wickedly false as emphatically as I say it to you, sir.

I am sorry indeed that you should have thought it necessary to put the question."

"There is never anything lost," said the doctor drily, "by giving the calumniated person an opportunity of denying a charge of this sort, however preposterous. I am myself perfectly satisfied to take your word that you neither had any part in the affair yourself nor have you any knowledge as to who the culprits are."