'As Gold in the Furnace' Part 15

The boy he saw at the window grating had worn a blue sweater!

"No, no, no, no!" said Roy to himself many times. "I can't--I won't believe it. I must be mistaken. It can not be he! No, no! Yet no one else has a sweater of that color!"

By this time he had left his room and was excitedly pacing up and down the lengthy corridor. Luckily he was barefooted, or he would have disturbed everybody. The more he thought over his discovery the more he became convinced of the ident.i.ty of the burglar. His conviction and wretchedness grew in proportion.

"It can not be! It can not be! Impossible! Impossible!" he muttered, as he strode up and down. "Andrew is mean in many things, but not a common felon! It can not, can not be true!" and he was hoping against hope for his family's sake.

Henning was never so excited in his life. For a long time he walked up and down on the cocoa-matting. His blanket trailing behind him, often caught the leaden binding of one of the strips of matting. This would be raised about a foot and fall with a bang; his excitement prevented him from noticing the noise he was making.

Not so the old infirmarian, whose room was at the end of the corridor.

Peering out, he at first thought he saw a ghost. But ghosts do not trip on cocoa-matting. He followed the disturber of his repose.

Henning, still under pressure of strong excitement, walked the whole length of the corridor. He turned suddenly to encounter the angry infirmarian.

"Oh, it's Henning! What are you doing at this unearthly hour of the night, disturbing my sleep?" said the old man in an unusually sharp tone for him, for he was generally mild and kindly. The official at first thought it was an ordinary case of somnambulism, but he soon found Henning to be very wide-awake.

"I've found it--the secret. I've got it," exclaimed Roy in excitement.

"I guess you have--bad," said the old man with grim humor. "Well, if you boys will fill yourselves up with rich plum-pudding and cake in the daytime, you must expect to suffer at night. There now, get back into bed, and don't disturb the whole house with your nonsense."

"Oh, if I were only sure, I would settle the whole thing to-morrow,"

muttered Roy. It is doubtful if, in his excited condition, he had seen the infirmarian at all.

"I'll settle you in the morning if you don't get back to bed at once.

Get now."

But Roy did not move. He had lapsed into a thoughtful mood. He stood, with his chin on his hand, motionless.

"Do you hear me, boy? It's time to stop this Indian ghost-dance business. There's no sense in breaking an old man's rest. Get to bed."

The infirmarian was fully persuaded that the whole affair was only a practical joke, such as even sick boys, or those, at least, who sometimes get pa.s.sed into the infirmary on the plea of sickness, are not always above playing. Seeing that Henning did not move or pay any attention to his words, the infirmarian took hold of his shoulders and gave him a vigorous shaking. This operation had the effect of bringing the distracted boy down to the knowledge of mundane things at once.

"Eh! oh, ah!" he said in a bewildered, sheepish way. "I've made--a horrible--discovery!"

"You'll make another very unpleasant one in the morning if you don't get into bed at once. Don't cause any more disturbance."

Without another word Henning went back to his room, and softly closed the door. He did not get into bed, but continued his ruminations.

"Andrew! Andrew!" he moaned, "I did not think it would come to this!"

He dropped his head on the window-sill and thought for a long, long time. It was in some degree a contest between self-interest and family pride. It was a long struggle, and the result of these cogitations he announced to himself as he threw the blanket from his shoulders across the bed. They were comprised in two short sentences:

"I must keep silence! I _will_ keep silence!"

The decision may have been fanciful, or it may have been heroic. We shall see later. It led him into complications, the nature of which he little dreamed.

CHAPTER XIV

FACING THE BOYS

When Roy Henning entered the college chapel at half-past six to attend Ma.s.s, his movements from the time he appeared at the door until he had taken his seat were watched by many scores of pairs of curious eyes.

To even the small boys, who came near the big fellows only in the chapel, Roy was an object of deep interest, for by some means the reports and rumors of the big yard had seeped through to the small division, and the most wonderfully distorted stories had been circulated. Henning had been attacked, fought desperately, conquered and bound, three men single-handed. He had been captured and carried away by burglars (wasn't he absent all day?) to their cave, and gained his liberty by the most daring feats of skill and bravery! Young imaginations are active, and young tongues more so.

The Philosophers--Henning's cla.s.s--occupied the front benches in the chapel. When Bracebridge and Henning came in they had as yet met no boys since the public knowledge of the discovery of the robbery. Roy was in some peculiar way quite conscious that his advance along the aisle was causing quite a commotion, although its manifestation was decorous on the part of the boys, owing to the place in which they were gathered, and to their reverence for its divine Guest.

Rob Jones occupied the outer seat of the bench. As the two friends were pa.s.sing him he turned his knees aside for them to do so and took Roy's hand and gave it a warm squeeze. The pressure was gratefully returned. Roy took heart. Much strengthened by this show of sympathy, he determined to meet all inquiries after breakfast and give all the information he possessed to any one who should ask.

His regret over the loss was as poignant as when it was first discovered, but in some way he now felt that he could face all the boys and answer all their questions. He could not have done this the day before. Perhaps Jones' unspoken sympathy had given him courage.

As he expected, a large group gathered around him after breakfast.

"How did it all happen?" asked John Stockley, anxious to learn the particulars down to the minutest detail.

Henning gave them all the information he possessed. When the discussion had died down a little, he said: "As far as I can see, the thief must have entered through the window."

"From the yard side, or the garden side?"

"There is but one window, if you remember, in the committee-room, and that is on the yard side. All the windows on the garden side are in the playroom outside the committee-room."

"That's true, come to think of it," said Stockley; "but could not the thief have gone in by the playroom by way of the part.i.tion door?"

"I do not think so," answered Roy, "because, you know the door has a Yale lock, and I am the only one who has a key to it, except Mr.

Shalford."

"It is not likely that he robbed the drawer," said Stockley with a laugh. "We are all very sorry for you and you have our sympathy."

Stockley looked around, and the others in the group nodded in affirmation.

"Thanks. You are very kind. You can not regret this occurrence more than I do, especially since I failed to take Bracebridge's advice to put the money in a safer place."

"It's lucky that a fellow like you lost that money, and not a poor beggar like me," remarked Smithers, who was standing on the outer edge of the gathering. Henning looked sharply at the speaker:

"Why?" he asked.

"Simply because a fellow like you who always has plenty of money will find no difficulty in replacing that which is gone. Such a thing would be impossible for impecunious me," and the speaker turned his empty trousers' pockets inside out, and spun around on his heel. A few laughed, but the majority were silent, not liking the clownish exhibition of bad taste.

Henning was, naturally under the circ.u.mstances, in a nervous condition. He at once suspected that this Smithers was merely the spokesman of many others, and that he was expressing their sentiments as to what his line of action should be. Whether he acted judiciously or not in this immature stage of developments, we leave to subsequent events to determine. He replied, and rather warmly, too:

"I don't know so much about that, Smithers. It may turn out to be the misfortune of all, at least of all who contributed. I really do not remember whether you gave anything or not. I shall certainly not make up the loss unless the President fully convinces me that I am under obligation to do so. I am going to see him now. Even should he decide against me I do not know whether I shall be able to replace the money."

A faint murmur of surprise and dissatisfaction, Henning was convinced, ran through the increasing group, as he, in company with Bracebridge, moved away toward the President's office.

The two walked slowly away from the crowd of boys. Bracebridge appeared to be thinking deeply. He had something to say, but hesitated to say it. Ambrose, with the instincts of a born gentleman, was always extremely careful of the feelings of others.

"Roy!"