The High School Freshmen Part 15

challenged the young freshman.

Mrs. Prescott, who had been hovering near the doorway, gave a gasp of dismay. To her tortured soul this police investigation seemed to be the acme of disgrace. It all pointed to the arrest of her boy---to a long term in some jail or reformatory, most likely.

"Madame," asked the plain clothes man, stepping to the door, "will you give your full consent to my searching your son's room---in the presence of yourself and of Dr. Thornton, of course? I am obliged to ask your permission, for, without a search warrant I have no other legal right than that which you may give me."

"Of course you may search Richard's room," replied his mother, quickly. "But you'll be wasting your time, for you'll find nothing incriminating in my boy's room."

"Of course not, of course not," replied Hemingway, soothingly.

"That is what we most want---_not_ to find anything there. Will you lead the way, please? Prescott, you may come and see the search also."

So the four filed into the little room that served d.i.c.k as sleeping apartment, study-room, den, library and all. Hemingway moved quickly about, exploring the pockets of d.i.c.k's other clothing hanging there. He delved into, under and behind all of the few books there. This plain clothes man moved from place to place with a speed and certainty that spoke of his long years of practice in this sort of work.

"There's nothing left but the trunk, now," declared the policeman, bending over and trying the lock. "The key to this, Prescott!"

d.i.c.k produced the key. Hemingway fitted it in the lock, throwing up the lid. The trunk was but half filled, mostly with odds and ends, for d.i.c.k was not a boy of many possessions. After a few moments the policeman deftly produced, from the bottom, a gold watch. This he laid on the floor without a word, and continued the search. In another moment he had produced the jeweled pin that exactly answered the description of the one belonging to Mrs. Edwards.

d.i.c.k gave a gasp, then a low groan. A heart-broken sob welled up in Mrs. Prescott's throat. Dr. Thornton turned as white as chalk. Hemingway, an old actor in such things, did not show what he felt---if he really felt it at all.

"These are the missing articles, aren't they?" asked the policeman, straightening up and pa.s.sing watch and pin to the High School princ.i.p.al.

"I believe them to be," nodded Dr. Thornton, brokenly.

Mrs. Prescott had staggered forward, weeping and throwing her arms around her son.

"O, Richard! Richard, my boy!" was all she could say.

"Mother, I know nothing about how those things came to be in my trunk," protested the boy, st.u.r.dily. After his first groan the young freshman, being all grit by nature, straightened up, feeling that he could look all the world in the eye. Only his mother's grief, and the knowledge that his father was soon to be hurt, appealed to the softer side of young Prescott's nature.

"Mother, I have not stolen anything," the boy said, more solemnly, after a pause. "I am your son. You believe me, don't you?"

"I'd stake my life on your innocence when you've given me your word!" declared that loyal woman.

"The chief said I was to take your instructions, Dr. Thornton,"

hinted Hemingway.

"Yes; I heard the order given," nodded the now gloomy High School princ.i.p.al.

"Shall I arrest young Prescott?"

At that paralyzing question d.i.c.k's mother did not cry out. She kissed her son, then went just past the open doorway, where she halted again.

"I hesitate about seeing any boy start from his first offense with a criminal record," replied the princ.i.p.al, slowly. "If I were convinced that this would be the last offense I certainly would not favor any prosecution. Prescott, could you promise-----"

"Then you believe, sir, that I stole the things that you hold in your hand?" demanded the young freshman, steadily.

"I don't want to believe it," protested Dr. Thornton. "It seems wicked---monstrous---to believe that any fine, bright, capable boy like you can be-----"

Dr. Thornton all but broke down. Then he added, in a hoa.r.s.e whisper:

"---a thief."

"I'm not one," rejoined d.i.c.k. "And, not very far into the future lies the day when I'm going to prove it to you."

"If you can," replied Dr. Thornton, "you'll make me as happy as you do yourself and your parents."

"Let me have the watch and pin to turn over to the chief, doctor,"

requested Hemingway, and took the articles. "Now, for the boy-----?"

"I'm not going to have him arrested," replied the princ.i.p.al, "unless the superintendent or the Board of Education so direct me."

From the other side of the doorway could be heard a stifled cry of delight.

"Then we may as well be going, doctor. You'll come to the station with me, won't you?"

"In one moment," replied the princ.i.p.al. He turned to d.i.c.k, sorrowfully holding out his hand.

"Prescott, whatever I may do will be the result of long and careful thought, or at the order of the superintendent or of the Board of Education. If you really are guilty, I hope you will pause, think and resolve, ere it is too late, to make a man of yourself hereafter. If you are innocent, I hope, with all my heart, that you will succeed in proving it. And to that end you may have any possible aid that I can give you. Goodbye, Prescott. Goodbye, madam! May peace be with you."

Half way down the stairs Dr. Thornton turned around to say:

"Of course, you quite comprehend, Prescott, that, pending official action by the school authorities, you must be suspended from the Gridley High School!"

As soon as the door had closed d.i.c.k half-tottered back into his room. He did not close the door, but crossed to the window, where he stood looking out upon a world that had darkened fearfully.

Then, without having heard a step, d.i.c.k Prescott felt his mother's arms enfold him.

CHAPTER IX

LAURA BENTLEY IS WIDE AWAKE

Suspended!

That did not mean expulsion, but it did mean that, until the school authorities had taken definite action on the case, young Prescott could not again attend H.S., or any other school under the control of the Board of Education.

The five other partners of d.i.c.k & Co. had faced the school defiantly when taking d.i.c.k's books from his desk and strapping them to bring home.

Dan Dalzell thrashed a soph.o.m.ore for daring to make some allusion to Prescott's "thefts." Tom Reade tried to thrash another soph.o.m.ore for a very similar offense, but Reade got whipped by a very small margin. That fact, however, did not discourage Reade. He had entered his protest, anyway.

Dave Darrin extracted apologies for remarks made, from three different soph.o.m.ores. All of the partners were diligent in protecting and defending the reputation of their chief.

Every day the "Co." came to see d.i.c.k. They made it a point, too, to appear on the street with him. Not one member of the football team "went back on" the suspended freshman. All treated him with the utmost cordiality and faith wherever they met him. Laura Bentley and some of the other girls of d.i.c.k's cla.s.s stood by him unwaveringly by chatting with the suspended freshman whenever and wherever they met him on the street.

"Pooh, old man, a fellow who has all the brains you displayed in making that football stroke doesn't need larceny as an aid to getting ahead in the world," was the way Frank Thompson put it.

"Thank you, Thompson. It's always good to have friends," smiled d.i.c.k, wistfully. "But, just now, I appreciate them more than ever."