Arthur thereupon proceeded to narrate the history of the finding of the match-box, sack, and wedge of paper, with which the reader is already familiar, and considerably astonished his worthy listener by the business-like way in which he appeared to have put two and two together, and to have laid the crime at his, Railsford's, door.

Nothing would satisfy the boy now but to go up and fetch down the incriminating articles and display them in the presence of the late criminal.

To his wrath and amazement, when he went to the cupboard he found--what it had been the lot of a certain cla.s.sical personage to find before him--that the "cupboard was bare." The articles were nowhere to be seen. Dig, on being charged with their abstraction, protested that he had never set eyes on them, and when Arthur told him the purpose for which they were wanted, he was scarcely less concerned at the mysterious disappearance than his friend.

Arthur finally had to return to Railsford without the promised evidence.

"I can't make it out," said he; "they're gone."

"Did anyone know about this except yourself?"

"Dig knew," said Arthur, "and _he_ must have collared them."

"Who? Oakshott?"

"Oh no; but I happened to say something last term, just after that trial we had, you know; I was talking about it, on the strict quiet, of course, to Felgate."

"Felgate!" exclaimed the master; and the whole truth flashed upon him at once.

"Yes, he promised to keep it dark. I really didn't think there was any harm, you know, as he is a prefect."

"You think he has taken the things, then?"

"Must have," said Arthur. "I don't know why, though; I'll go and ask him."

"You had better not," said Railsford. If Felgate had taken them, he probably had some reason, and there was no occasion to involve Arthur any further in the business.

"The thing is," said Arthur, still sorely puzzled, "if it wasn't you, who was it?"

Railsford smiled.

"That is a question a great many persons are asking. But you are the only boy I have met with who has no doubt in his mind that I was the guilty person."

Arthur winced.

"I'm awfully sorry, sir," said he. "I'll tell them all you had nothing to do with it."

"I think you had better say nothing. How do you know I am not telling you a lie now?"

Arthur winced once more. He would have preferred if Railsford had given him one hundred lines for daring to suspect him, and had done with it.

"I say," said he, "you needn't tell them at home, Marky. I know I was a cad, especially when you were such a brick that night at the abbey, and I'll never do it again. They'd be awfully down on me if they knew."

"My dear boy, you are not a cad, and I shall certainly not tell anyone of your little mistake. But leave me now; I have a lot of things to think about. Good-night."

Arthur returned to his room in dejected spirits.

He had made a fool of himself, he knew, and done his best friend an injustice; consequently he felt, for once in a way, thoroughly ashamed of himself. What irritated him most of all was the loss of the articles he had so carefully treasured up as evidence against somebody.

"Felgate's collared them, that's certain," said he, "and why?"

"He has a big row on with Marky," replied Dig; "I expect he means to bowl him out about this."

"That's it," said Arthur, "that's what he's up to. I say, Dig, we ought to be able to pay him out, you and I; and save old Marky."

"I'm game," said Dig; "but how?"

"Get the things back, anyhow. Let's see, they've got something on at the Forum to-night, haven't they?"

"Yes--two to one he'll be there. Why, of course he will; he's got to second the motion--something about the fine arts."

Arthur laughed.

"We'll try a bit of fine art on him, I vote. Come on, old man; we'll have a look round his rooms for the traps."

So they sallied out, and after peeping into the Forum on their way, to ascertain that their man was safely there, they marched boldly up-stairs to his study. If it had not been for the righteousness of their cause, these boys might have thought twice before entering anyone's room in his absence. But Arthur in his present temper had cast to the winds all scruples, and regarding himself merely as a robbed lioness searching for her whelps, he would have liked to meet the man who would tell him he hadn't a perfect right to be where he was. Dig, for his part, was not prepared to raise any such awkward question.

The boys' instinct had told them right. For one of the first things they beheld, on a corner of the window-sill, apparently put there hurriedly before starting for the Forum, was a brown-paper parcel, corresponding exactly with the missing bundle.

It was carefully tied up, and under the string was thrust an envelope addressed to "Mr Bickers."

Arthur whistled, and Dig ran forward to capture the lost property.

"Steady," said the former warily. "Perhaps it's just a dodge to catch us. See how it lies, in case we have to put it back."

They took the necessary bearings with all precaution, and then hurried back with their prize to their own study.

"How long before the Forum's up?" demanded Arthur, depositing the parcel on the table.

"Twenty minutes," said Dig.

"All serene."

The things had evidently been recently tied up with new string in fresh brown paper, the wedge of paper and the match-box being rolled up in the middle of the sack.

"That seems all right," said Arthur, "now let's see the letter."

He carefully slid a pen-holder under the fold of the envelope, so as to open it without breaking, and extracted the letter, which ran as follows:--

"Dear Sir,--I send you the three things I told you of. The sack has his initials on it; the paper belongs to him, as you will see, and he is the only man in the house who could reach up to put the match-box on the ledge. Please do not mention my name. My only reason is to get justice done.

"Yours, truly,

"T.F."

"Oh, the cad!" was the joint exclamation of the two readers as they perused this treacherous epistle.

"Look alive, now," said Arthur; "cut down as fast as ever you can and fetch one of those turfs lying on the corner of the gra.s.s, you know."