'As Gold in the Furnace' Part 14

"You miserable cur!" said Rob Jones.

In a flash he saw Smithers' motive. There had evidently been a robbery. No matter how, or when, or where, without knowledge of any of the details whatever, Rob Jones was as sure as he was sure of his own existence that Roy, big, generous, n.o.ble-hearted Roy, was guiltless of the least shadow of complicity. As soon as he realized that Smithers, in the mere telling of the event, was so coloring the facts by innuendo and sneer that Roy's name would probably suffer, Jones became furiously angry.

"You miserable cur!" he repeated, and made a spring for the other's throat. Luckily the high collar he wore saved Smithers to some extent, or he might carry to this day some ugly marks. Jones fairly shook him, as a mastiff would shake a whelp.

"You cur! Is this the way you would blacken one's reputation! I tell you Roy is innocent, and you shall apologize to him for your dastardly insinuations. Come with me, come with me, I say," and he began to drag the now frightened boy across the yard to where he thought Henning was. Smithers, trembling, began to say something, but it was unintelligible, which is very likely to be the case when another has a strong hold on the speaker's throat.

"Hold on there, Jones. You can't find Henning. He's gone out. I saw him and several others leave about half an hour ago," said John Stockley. A crowd had now gathered about the two.

"A fight! a fight!" was the word that ran around the yard.

Rob Jones relaxed his hold, but did not release the boy. Holding his fist close to his captive's face he said:

"Now take it back, or I'll thrash you till you can't see."

"Wha--what did I say?" asked Smithers.

"You know very well what you said. You said that the delectable and pious Henning had managed to lose seventy-two dollars of the boys'

money. That's a lie. Take it back, or I'll----"

"It isn't a lie," whimpered the choking Smithers. "Didn't he have charge of the money? And hasn't it been stolen?"

"But did he, as you say, manage to have it stolen? That is, is he implicated in the theft, as you imply, or is he not? Speak out, man, if you have a spark of honor in you. Speak out, or I'll thrash you if I have to leave here to-morrow."

Generous Rob! There were few boys at the college at this time who knew that this same Rob Jones once played the role which Smithers was so unsuccessfully attempting. He had repented of that long ago, but never had there come a time, for which he had often wished, when he could safeguard another's reputation, as a species of reparation for the damaging of Howard Hunter's in the long ago.

Irrespective of the idea that actuated him, Jones was quite convinced, even without knowing the simplest details, that Roy Henning must be free from all moral blame. Roy Henning was a boy whom Jones honored and loved. All these circ.u.mstances must be considered when we pa.s.s judgment on the vehement burst of pa.s.sion which put young Smithers in danger of strangulation. He muttered some kind of apology to the absent Roy, and Jones with a positive grunt of disgust flung the frightened boy as far as he could send him. He stumbled along for several paces before regaining a steady footing. Mumbling something inaudibly, he slunk away, but more than one of the students saw an ugly, ominous look on his face as he went.

"I hear all sorts of reports," said Stockley; "tell us the true story, somebody."

There was no lack of talkers, and almost as many theories. Few versions of the affair agreed in substantials. In the course of the morning all sorts of foolish rumors were flying around. One was, that Roy Henning had been caught in the act of pocketing the money and had been instantly expelled. In confirmation of this, the question was asked: "Where is he?

No one has seen him since the discovery!" Another busy rumor had it that six boys were implicated and had been summarily dismissed.

"Did not the President see six boys off the premises this morning?"

was advanced as a reason for this wild guess. Robert Jones, the absent boy's champion, happened to hear this last stupid remark.

"You set of babbling geese! You lot of old women! Here you go and jabber away people's reputations as easily as--Oh! you make me sick!

Look here, you fellows, those six boys, and Henning among them, are out for a day's holiday. I say the President would rather send home six dozen dull-heads such as you fellows, than these six. They have been given a privilege that you ninnies would never get if you were here fifty years. Mark my words! To-morrow morning I shall call upon some of you brainless gossips--some of you silly babblers--to repeat before them what you have the impudence to say behind their backs."

In this manner Rob Jones did much to keep down the public excitement, and to reduce all stupid talk to a minimum. Mr. Shalford, also, had put something of a quietus on many senseless and ugly remarks which some malicious or thoughtless boys had set afloat. While admitting that the loss of the money was to be deplored, he did all in his power to exonerate Henning.

"Although the loss is severe," he said, "yet after all no one individually suffers much. It is true that, probably, we shall not be able this winter to purchase the much-wished-for cage. Well, we have never had one yet, and we can wait a little longer. The whole affair might have worn a much worse aspect than it does. Suppose it had been one of our own boys that had been guilty! I shudder to think of such a thing! Now do not spread idle and useless conjectures as facts. We shall endeavor strenuously to discover the thief, and until he is discovered it were better to make no rash surmises. Especially must we refrain from accusing any one of the crime until we have positive proof of his guilt, and until he is discovered it were better and safer to make no surmises.

Some very stupid rumors have already reached me. Pray do not lose all credit for common-sense. Let every boy act with moderation and justice.

No one has a right to const.i.tute himself a judge of his fellows. If any well-grounded suspicious circ.u.mstance comes to light, I am the one to be consulted and no other."

With such sensible remarks, and Rob Jones' generous defense of his absent friend, much of the excitement had died down before the return of the six excursionists.

When they arrived, wrapped in buffalo robes and hoa.r.s.e from singing on the way, all the boys had a.s.sembled in the college theater to hear a burnt-cork minstrel entertainment and to listen to the orchestra.

Supper was prepared for them in the infirmary, and they were told that they might occupy beds there "for one night only" if they wished to avail themselves of that privilege.

Thus it happened that Roy Henning and his friends met none of the boys that night. They had no opportunity of judging the public pulse until the next morning. Tired as Henning was from the exercise and the strain and excitement of the day, he could not sleep. After tossing from one side to the other for an hour he got up, and, throwing a blanket around him, sat at the window and began to do the worst possible thing under the circ.u.mstances. He began to think and brood.

CHAPTER XIII

WHAT HENNING REMEMBERED

There was much in Roy Henning's disposition to make him a creature of temperament. Had he not been so strong and muscular one would sometimes be inclined to imagine that he was possessed of the peculiarly feminine accomplishment, yclept "nerves." For the least reason, and sometimes apparently for none, he was all exhilaration and enthusiasm. On such occasions everything was the brightest of bright rose-color, and the failure of a project in hand was not even to be dreamed of.

Should anything go ever momentarily wrong in a pet scheme, he became the veriest pessimist. All would go wrong; all the world was conspiring against him. If it rained at such times, even nature herself was in league against him.

While he was to a large extent a creature of temperament, it must not be supposed that he had not a high appreciation of manly qualities. None, perhaps, at St. Cuthbert's, certainly none of his day, had loftier ideals. With these and with his splendid physique he represented as fair a type of Catholic early manhood as could be found.

Henning had one peculiar trait, and to this may be traced much of the trial and vexation to which he had already been subjected, and much of which was to fall to him for the remainder of his time at St.

Cuthbert's. He remained too much self-centered. This was frequently an occasion of trouble to him. An instance: it will be remembered that he was told by his director not to tell any one save his parents of his intention of entering the ecclesiastical state. He took this advice as absolute, and on it molded his conduct, with what inconvenience to himself we have already seen.

It is not to be wondered at, then, that he kept his thoughts and his fears and troubles arising from the loss of the money to himself. All that day, except that first burst of grief, he made no outward manifestation of what he was feeling or suffering. Of course he was thus depriving himself of the sympathy and help which his friends were only too ready to offer. Actuated by the highest of supernatural motives, he nevertheless deprived himself in his difficulties of the guidance and a.s.sistance of a faithful friend. Roy had yet to learn that troubles told into sympathizing ears are more than half healed.

Small wonder then, with this habit of reserve, if the circ.u.mstances in which he found himself on this holiday night of Christmas week paved the way for a very gloomy meditation.

He recalled his early school-days. Why had he been so unlike other boys at school and at college? They were always full of self-a.s.sertiveness and self-reliance; he had always been timid and retiring. Perhaps it was the reflection of that timidity he had always felt in the presence of his father. Had his college life been a happy one? Unfortunately, for the most part, no. Not until last year--one year out of seven--when he had the company and full sympathy of such n.o.ble characters as Howard Hunter, Claude Winters, Harry Selby, Frank Stapleton, and others. With such characters as those he could not help being happy. But all these had gone; pa.s.sed out of his life. Oh, if some of them were here now to help and show him what to do!

Those dear boys! And oh, that visit to Rosecroft, and that nearly fatal accident when he so narrowly escaped being struck by the chute boat! There was this consolation, that if the clouds thickened around him he would get Ambrose Bracebridge to take him over to Rosecroft Manor. There was Mrs. Bracebridge there, who would understand him and who could always help and direct and encourage him.

Thinking of her, Roy became more cheerful. I have said that he was a creature of temperament. Here it served him in good turn. He began to take a brighter view of the trials he knew awaited him on the morrow.

Was he not entirely innocent? Who would dare to impugn his character?

He would face all bravely, explain how he discovered the theft, and blame himself publicly for his imprudence in keeping so much money locked in a common table drawer. Then who would dare to say a word against his integrity! All would pa.s.s over soon. He would write a full account to his father, who would doubtless make good the loss.

"By the way," he suddenly thought, half aloud, "am I responsible? Must I make rest.i.tution of the lost money?" This was a puzzling question which he could not decide. He determined to consult his spiritual director the first thing in the morning. But wouldn't he like to catch the thief!

This last thought led him to a mental survey of all persons who might possibly be guilty. To his credit, he spurned the idea that any one of the college boys could be the culprit. No St. Cuthbert boy could do such a thing, and if by chance it should happen to be a student, were they not all Catholic boys? Would not the first confession the thief made result in a full rest.i.tution of the ill-gotten goods? He had little hope that any such thing would occur, but he had not the slightest idea that any college student would prove to be the delinquent.

He endeavored to imagine a way the theft could have been accomplished.

It must have been committed between seven o'clock on Wednesday night and six on Thursday morning, when the boys rose. It could not have been done later than a minute or two after six, because it was the custom of a number of boys who were in training to use the playroom as a kind of indoor running-track immediately upon rising and before they took their shower bath.

He remembered that the door of the committee-room had been locked by himself in the evening just before the play began. It is true that the only window of this room was not fastened, but there were iron bars on the outside. He remembered now that one of these bars--they were half above ground and half in a window well which was covered by an iron grating, that one of these bars was loose, for he now recalled the fact that yesterday he had seen a boy move one of them with his foot as he stood on the grating. Could the thief have gone through the window?

Henning suddenly clutched his chair in the greatest excitement. There had flashed into his memory an incident which he had witnessed the night before, but which until this very moment had not come to his memory.

He remembered now that after the play last night he stood at the Philosophy cla.s.sroom window, and across the yard he had seen a boy crouching down at these very bars. He had paid little attention at the time, as his mind was full of the _Richelieu_ he had just played. The electric light in the yard was so located that it put the boy, the window, and one-third of the sidewalk in deep shade. The other part of the sidewalk was very bright. He now remembered that when he first saw the boy he was in a crouching position. He had not paid much attention, and other things occupying his mind, he soon forgot all about it. What was that other thought? Ah! now he remembered. It was that wretched attempt to spoil the second scene of the play. He now recalled that for some time he forgot all about the boy at the grating but when he did think of him again he remembered seeing the boy as if he were just rising from his knees, which, as he stood, he brushed with his hand. At the time the boy received very little attention from Roy, who now remembered having vaguely wondered why any one was out in the yard when all, except the players, were in the chapel at evening prayers. Chapel bell had sounded immediately after the play, so the actors could not divest themselves of paint and disguises in time to attend.

Who could that boy have been? Last night Henning was not interested enough to find out. To-night he would give a great deal to know. He remembered now that the person, whoever he was, wore a black soft felt hat, which was pulled down well over his eyes and hid a great portion of his face. A soft felt hat would not identify any one. There were dozens of them in the yard. Oh, if he could only remember how the boy was dressed!

"Great heavens!" he e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed aloud in sudden, intense excitement.

He arose and clutched the blanket around him and folded his hands across his breast. His face was very white. He trembled. He began to pace the floor, muttering as one demented, or at least as one under the strongest stress of excitement. Great beads of perspiration stood out on his forehead. At one time he thought he was going to faint. He had made a discovery, and the discovery sickened him.