The Fifth Form at Saint Dominic's Part 39

"How did you get on?" said Wraysford, as they walked back to the Fifth.

"Middling, not so bad as I feared; how did you?"

"Not very grand, I'm afraid; but better than I expected," said Wraysford. "But I say, did you see how gravelled Loman seemed? I fancy he didn't do very much."

"So I thought; but I hadn't time to watch him much."

In the Fifth there was a crowd of questioners, eager to ascertain how their champions had fared; and great was their delight to learn that neither was utterly cast down at his own efforts.

"You fellows are regular bricks if you get it!" cried Ricketts.

"It'll be the best thing that has happened for the Fifth for a long time."

"Oh, I say," said Simon, suddenly, addressing Oliver in a peculiarly knowing tone, "wasn't it funny, that about the Doctor losing the paper?

Just the very time I met you coming out of his study, you know, on Sat.u.r.day evening. But of course I won't say anything. Only wasn't it funny?"

What had come over Oliver, that he suddenly turned crimson, and without a single word struck the speaker angrily with his open hand on the forehead?

Was he mad? or could it possibly be that--

Before the a.s.sembled Fifth could recover from their astonishment or conjecture as to the motive for this sudden exhibition of feeling, he turned abruptly to the door and quitted the room.

CHAPTER TWENTY THREE.

A TURN OF THE TIDE.

An earthquake could hardly have produced a greater shock than Oliver's strange conduct produced on the Fifth Form at Saint Dominic's. For a moment or two they remained almost stupefied with astonishment, and then rose a sudden clamour of tongues on every hand.

"What can he mean?" exclaimed one.

"Mean! It's easy enough to see what he means," said another, "the hypocrite!"

"I should never have thought Greenfield senior went in for that sort of thing!"

"Went in for what sort of thing?" cried Wraysford, with pale face and in a perfect tremble.

"Why--cheating!" replied the other.

"You're a liar to say so!" shouted Wraysford, walking rapidly up to the speaker.

The other boys, however, intervened, and held the indignant Wraysford back.

"I tell you you're a liar to say so!" again he exclaimed. "He's not a cheat, I tell you; he never cheated. You're a pack of liars, all of you!"

"I say, draw it mild, Wray, you know," interposed Pembury. "You needn't include me in your compliments."

Wraysford glared at him a moment and then coloured slightly.

"_You_ don't call Oliver a cheat?" he said, inquiringly.

"I shouldn't till I was c.o.c.k-sure of the fact," replied the cautious editor of the _Dominican_.

"Do you mean to say you aren't sure?" said Wraysford.

Pembury vouchsafed no answer, but whistled to himself.

"All I can say is," said Bullinger, who was one of Wraysford's chums, "it looks uncommonly ugly, if what Simon says is true."

"I don't believe a word that a.s.s says."

"Oh, but," began Simon, with a most aggravating cheerfulness, "I a.s.sure you I'm not telling a lie, Wraysford. I'm sorry I said anything about it. I never thought there would be a row about it. I promise I'll not mention it to anybody."

"You blockhead! who cares for your promises? I don't believe you."

"Well, I know I met Greenfield senior coming out of the Doctor's study on Sat.u.r.day evening, about five minutes past nine. I'm positive of that," said Simon.

"And I suppose he had the paper in his hand?" sneered Wraysford, looking very miserable.

"No; I expect he'd put it in his pocket, you know, at least, that is, I would have."

This candid admission on the part of the ingenious poet was too much for the gravity of one or two of the Fifth. Wraysford, however, was in no laughing mood, and went off to his study in great perturbation.

He could not for a moment believe that his friend could be guilty of such a dishonourable act as stealing an examination paper, and his impulse was to go at once to Oliver's study and get the suspicions of the Fifth laid there and then. But the fear of seeming in the least degree to join in those suspicions kept him back. He tried to laugh the thing to scorn inwardly, and called himself a villain and a traitor twenty times for admitting even the shadow of a doubt into his own mind.

Yet, as Wraysford sat that afternoon and brooded over his friend's new trouble, he became more and more uncomfortable.

When on a former occasion the fellows had called in question Oliver's courage, he had felt so sure, so very sure the suspicion was a groundless one, that he had never taken it seriously to heart. But somehow this affair was quite different. What possible object would Simon, for instance, have for telling a deliberate lie? and if it had been a lie, why should Oliver have betrayed such confusion on hearing it?

These were questions which, try all he would, Wraysford could not get out of his mind.

When Stephen presently came in, cheery as ever, and eager to hear how the examination had gone off, the elder boy felt an awkwardness in talking to him which he had never experienced before. As for Stephen, he put down the short, embarra.s.sed answers he received to Wraysford's own uneasiness as to the result of the examination. Little guessed the boy what was pa.s.sing in the other's mind!

There was just one hope Wraysford clung to. That was that Oliver should come out anywhere but first in the result. If Loman, or Wraysford himself, were to win, no one would be able to say his friend had profited by a dishonourable act; indeed, it would be as good as proof he had not taken the paper.

And yet Wraysford felt quite sick as he called to mind the unflagging manner in which Oliver had worked at his paper that morning, covering sheet upon sheet with his answers, and scarcely drawing in until time was up. It didn't look like losing, this.

He threw himself back in his chair in sheer misery. "I would sooner have done the thing myself," groaned he to himself, "than Oliver." Then suddenly he added, "But it's not true! I'm certain of it! He couldn't do it! I'll never believe it of him!"

Poor Wraysford! It was easier to say the generous words than feel them.

Pembury looked in presently with a face far more serious and overcast than he usually wore.

"I say, Wray," said he, in troubled tones, "I'm regularly floored by all this. Do you believe it?"

"No, I don't," replied Wraysford, but so sadly and hesitatingly that had he at once confessed he did, he could not have expressed his meaning more plainly.

"I'd give anything to be sure it was all false," said Pembury, "and so would a lot of the fellows. As for that fool Simon--"