The Hero of Garside School Part 18

"I think you will when I've finished," said Paul confidently. "Newall doesn't see it, naturally, but I think you will. This is how things stand. Newall made me believe that he was sorry for the quarrel that had taken place between him and Moncrief. On that I tried to do the right thing. I got Moncrief to go up to him and offer him his hand. I was never more disgusted in my life. Newall pretended not to see it, and said insulting things, which I need not repeat. What I say is, that when he refused to take Moncrief's hand, he insulted me more than he insulted Moncrief; for it was I who brought Moncrief to him, and it was through me Moncrief offered him his hand. That is the first point I wish the Form to decide."

Paul spoke so earnestly that he carried the Form with him. It appealed to their sense of chivalry. Percival had tried to make peace between Newall and Moncrief. Failing that, he had turned the quarrel from his friend's shoulders to his own.

First one, then the other, supported Paul, and though there was a small minority against him, there was no question as to the majority.

"We think Percival right," said Hasluck--an announcement which was received with cheers.

"That only means that the quarrel is between me and Percival," said Newall grimly. "I've no objection. I'm not going to kick against the decision of the Form." Then, turning to Paul: "You've got to pay me back the blow I had from Moncrief. P'raps the Form 'll decide when it's to be."

"You mean fighting?"

"What else should I mean?"

"I don't. We don't want to waste our energies that way when there's a much better way and better work to do."

"Trying to crawl out of it again," came in a sneering aside from Parfitt. "Was there ever such a wriggler?"

"Let's hear the better way," said Hasluck; and there were many others in the Form, in spite of the sneering remark of Parfitt, who were equally anxious to hear what "the better way" could be.

"There's a shadow resting upon the school--resting upon every one of us," said Paul solemnly.

"What shadow are you talking about?" asked Hasluck.

"The leaves from the Black Book--the stolen papers from Mr. Weevil's desk," said Paul. "Until the thief is found out, suspicion rests upon every boy in the Form--upon every boy in the school. What I suggest is, that we leave off fighting till we've found out who the thief is. I don't want to preach, but I think that will be a great deal more to our honour and the honour of our school."

Paul paused. "If Parfitt has anything to accuse me of, now will be his time," he thought.

He had not to wait long. Parfitt did speak, but scarcely in the way he had antic.i.p.ated.

"Honour of the school!" he cried. "Anybody would think that Percival's the only one who cares for it. Let him take care of his own honour first, and the honour of the school will take care of itself."

Parfitt's pointed remark was loudly applauded. Paul saw that he was likely to be defeated unless he could make a stronger appeal to the sympathies of the Form.

"I don't know that my honour's questioned," he answered promptly. "Who questions it?"

"I do," retorted Parfitt.

"And I," added Newall.

Before Paul could answer, there was a knock on the door of the shed. It so startled Devey--a heavy, thick-set boy--that he over-balanced himself, and came with a crash on the box in which Plunger was hidden. Plunger had been so interested in the proceedings of the Fifth that he had lifted the lid in the slightest possible degree so that he might the better hear what was going on. When Devey came crashing on the box, Plunger thought for the moment that his head had gone from his shoulders. And then as Devey, not quite recovered from his fall, continued to sit upon the lid, he thought he would be suffocated.

Meanwhile Leveson went to the door, and demanded: "Who's there?"

"A Beetle," came the answer.

"A Beetle! What does he want?"

"He's got a challenge for the Fifth."

"A challenge for the Fifth! Oh, very kind of him!" Then, turning to Hasluck, "Shall I let him in?"

"Rather. Let's hear what the sport is."

Thereupon Leveson opened the door. Three boys were standing without--two of them belonging to the school, and the third, who stood between them, one of the much-despised Beetles--in other words, a pupil of the rival school at St. Bede's.

CHAPTER XIII

A CHALLENGE FROM ST. BEDE'S

The two boys who entered with the "Beetle" were Baldry and Sedgefield, the companions of Plunger. The Beetle was a st.u.r.dy, but rather heavy-featured, boy of fourteen. He wore the St. Bede's cap--dark cloth with a white shield in front, on which were worked in old English letters, "St. B.," while beneath these were three Roman capitals--"S. S.

V.," the initials of the school motto, "Suis stet viribus"--"He stands on his merit."

"Why, it's Mellor," came the cry, so soon as the face of the boy from St. Bede's could be clearly seen.

Yes, it was Mellor, till recently a pupil at Garside, and formerly an occupant of the dormitory in which Harry Moncrief, Baldry and the others slept. He had left Garside last term, and, much to the disgust of his former a.s.sociates, had entered as a pupil of St. Bede's. The fact was that it was not so much Mellor's work as his father's. Mellor was good at sport, but not quite as keen on learning, so that he had remained for two years in the same form along with boys who were much younger than himself. Mellor, of course, put it down to the school, and not to any lack of diligence on his part. His father fell in with the view of his son, believing him to be a "clever boy--unmistakably clever"--if the cleverness were only brought out. In the hope that this cleverness would be brought out, he had been taken from Garside and turned over to St.

Bede's.

Now the conversion of a "Gargoyle" into a "Beetle" was not an easy process. He had to fit himself into new surroundings, new conditions, new methods, with new companions. And while these new companions had given him a cool reception, his old companions, thinking him fair game for ridicule and sport now that he had "gone over to the enemy," had determined on giving him a warm reception at the first opportunity.

It so happened that on the third day of Mellor's entrance at St. Bede's he chanced to meet Parfitt and a couple of companions of his in the Fifth. They had promptly seized on Mellor, and after congratulating him with mock gravity on rising to the "dignity of a Beetle," had ended by making him crawl on all fours "as a Beetle ought," and, using his back as a desk, had finally written this note on a slip of paper--"Beetle, otherwise c.o.c.kroach--nocturnal insect, concealing itself in holes during the day, and crawling off at the approach of light."

This flattering description they had pinned to Mellor's back, with an intimation that he was to crawl back to his brother Beetles as quickly as possible or he would be "squashed before he could get to his hole again." Mellor, smarting under these indignities, had hastened back to St. Bede's and placed the note in the hands of one of the boys belonging to the corresponding form to that of his tormentors.

The Fifth had duly considered it, and a day later had despatched an answer with Mellor. And this was the answer: "Gargoyle, otherwise spout--receiving things that come from gutters. Meant to frighten people by making ugly faces. Good for little else. If the Fifth Form has one Gargoyle of any pluck amongst them, he will find a Fifth Form Beetle ready to meet him at the sand-pit, Cranstead Common, to-morrow afternoon, three sharp."

"It's a challenge," said Hasluck.

"Read it out," came in a chorus.

And Hasluck read it out.

"Don't you think you've got a lot of cheek to bring a note like that, Mellor," remarked Arbery when Hasluck had finished.

"Not half as much as Parfitt had in writing the one he sent by me,"

retorted Mellor indignantly.

"What does it feel like, being a Beetle?" asked Leveson politely.

"Kitchen stuff's fattening, isn't it?"

"After going about on all fours, don't you find it a bit tricky to stand on your hind legs again?" remarked Arbery. "Want a balancing-pole, don't you?"

Before Mellor could reply, a mysterious gurgling sound came from the direction in which Devey was standing.

"Hallo, Devey, what's wrong?" demanded Hasluck, as every eye turned in his direction.