The Mark of the Knife Part 7

"It's Findley Holbrook--" and then, as if for good measure, he added his nickname--"Teeny-bits."

"What's up?" asked Mr. Stevens.

The question was put pleasantly, but Teeny-bits knew that behind it there must be wonder and suspicion--yes, surely suspicion--for it was not an ordinary circ.u.mstance to find a member of the school concealing himself close to the rear windows of one of the dormitories when all the rest of the school was absent at a ma.s.s meeting. For the life of him Teeny-bits could think of nothing to say--he had made up his mind instantly not to tell what he had seen--and there did not seem to be anything else left. For seconds that seemed like hours he did not answer Mr. Stevens' question and then he managed to get a few words across his benumbed lips.

"It's nothing," he said. "I just--I'm--I was coming back from the ma.s.s meeting."

Mr. Stevens looked at him keenly and laid a hand on his shoulder.

"What's the matter, Teeny-bits?" he asked, and the newcomer at Ridgley knew from the very fact that the master addressed him by his nickname that he expected a straightforward answer.

Teeny-bits looked at Mr. Stevens in dumb misery and said nothing.

"Can I help you?" asked Mr. Stevens.

"No," said Teeny-bits. "Thanks, but I'm just going up to my room; that's all."

They walked round to the front of the hall together; Mr. Stevens said nothing more, and Teeny-bits ran up to his room and sat down to think. A few minutes before the impending struggle with Jefferson had filled his mind so completely that there seemed to be room for nothing else; now suddenly this other thing had come upon him and in an instant had engulfed his mind. Circ.u.mstances had involved him in a situation from which he would have given a year of his life to escape. He suddenly realized that he valued his good name above everything else.

Doctor Wells had been away from Ridgley over the week-end, to make an address in Philadelphia. He came back to the school Monday afternoon and did not get an opportunity to attend to his mail until evening. One letter that came to him contained a brief but surprising message. He read it once and then again, and forgot the rest of his mail. He got up from his desk chair and walking over to the window looked out into the night. Voices came to him faintly,--the eager, confident, carefree voices of youth. He knew that the boys were returning from the ma.s.s meeting. He turned away from the window, drew down the shade and read again the brief message.

It never took Doctor Wells long to make a decision; the course of action he determined on now he quickly put into execution. He reached for the telephone and in a moment was talking with Mr. Stevens, whose room was situated in Gannett Hall.

"Mr. Stevens," he said, "I want you to go up to Holbrook's room and ask him to come over here immediately. I'd like to have you stay with him until he starts."

Teeny-bits was not greatly surprised when Mr. Stevens came into his room a quarter of an hour after he had said good night to him. When any one was in trouble Mr. Stevens had a way of dropping round to see how he could help. Teeny-bits _was_ surprised, however, when the English master delivered Doctor Wells' message. The first thought that came into his mind was that Mr. Stevens had reported what he had seen and that Doctor Wells was calling him to his office to request an explanation. Mr.

Stevens may have read his thought for he looked at Teeny-bits rather searchingly and said:

"I don't know why Doctor Wells wants to see you; I haven't talked with him since he returned except to answer the request that has just been made. If you need me in any way, let me know."

That was the second time the English master had offered himself.

"I guess there isn't anything you can do," said Teeny-bits as he picked up his hat and started out of the room. "I'll run over to the office and see what Doctor Wells wants."

Teeny-bits' heart was pounding a little as he mounted the granite steps of "The White House", as every one called Doctor Wells' home. It was always an impressive thing to make a call on Doctor Wells--and one calculated to make the blood run a little faster, whatever the errand.

There was something about this summons, moreover, that gave it an unusual quality, and to Teeny-bits, who had pa.s.sed through two experiences that evening, it seemed to be a climax that held for him vague and perhaps unpleasant possibilities. He rang the bell and was ushered immediately into Doctor Wells' study where the soft lamplight, the paintings on the walls and the garnet-colored rugs, which harmonized with the mahogany furniture, gave an atmosphere of dignity and refinement. One always carried himself with a certain feeling of awe--at least every member of the school did--in Doctor Wells' office. But there was no unpleasant formality in Doctor Wells' manner. He shook hands with Teeny-bits cordially, asked him to sit down and came to the point immediately.

"I received a letter in the mail to-day which has something to do with you, Holbrook. I thought you'd better see it immediately. It isn't a pleasant subject and I want you to tell me frankly what you know about it."

He handed over a sheet of paper on which were three or four lines of typewritten words. They were simple enough in their meaning, but Teeny-bits had to read them twice before he completely grasped their import. There were two sentences:

Holbrook has the things that were stolen from the dormitories. He keeps them hidden under the floor in his closet.

Teeny-bits' face became red with anger and mortification; he looked Doctor Wells squarely in the eyes and said:

"Whoever sent you this, sir, wrote a lie! He didn't dare to sign his name!"

Doctor Wells never took his eyes from Teeny-bits' face, but the expression in them underwent a slight change; it was as if he had been looking for something that he greatly wanted to see--and suddenly had seen it.

"I believe in you, Holbrook," he said. "And I want you to know that I sympathize with you as I would with any one else against whose honesty a cowardly a.s.sault has been made. One has to defend himself st.u.r.dily against such underhand attacks. Have you any enemies who might try to injure you in this way?"

"I don't know; I shouldn't think that any one in _this_ school would be mean enough to do it. Doctor Wells, I want you to come over to my room now, and let me prove that it's a lie."

"I'll be glad to," said the Head, "but we might as well wait a few minutes until the lights-out bell rings. We don't need to advertise our business to any of the fellows in Gannett Hall."

For fifteen minutes Teeny-bits sat in the study with Doctor Wells; he never remembered in detail what they talked about, but he had a vague memory that it concerned football and the game with Jefferson.

Gannett Hall was dark and quiet when the Head and the newcomer to the school stole softly up the stairs and stopped at Number 34 on the third floor. Teeny-bits unlocked the door, reached in to switch on the electric lights and stood aside to let Doctor Wells enter first. He followed and led the way directly to the closet where he kept his clothes. Swinging open the door he looked down.

At first glance it seemed that the boards were not in any way disturbed from their normal appearance, and Teeny-bits was about to speak when his eyes fell on a groove at the point where the ends of two boards came together. He had not for an instant supposed that he and Doctor Wells would discover anything in the closet, but now suddenly a great fear came over him.

"There's a mark on this board," he said, getting down closer, "and the nails have been pulled out."

A minute or two later Teeny-bits and Doctor Wells had pried up the loose boards with a heavy paper-knife from Teeny-bits' table and were gazing down at a small pile of loot which consisted of the objects that various members of the school had reported as lost. It included Fred Harper's silver sailing trophy, Ned Stillson's gold knife, Snubby Turner's watch and ten or a dozen other trinkets. Teeny-bits felt stunned. Doctor Wells had picked out the articles one after another before Teeny-bits found his voice. Then he said:

"I don't know what you think, Doctor Wells, but the honest truth is that I didn't know a thing about this. I can't even guess--"

He could say no more; his voice broke a little and he felt as if he were half a dozen years younger and about to cry in little-boy manner.

"Teeny-bits," said Doctor Wells--it was the second time that night that Findley Holbrook had been thus addressed by a person in authority at Ridgley--"I've said once that I believe in you; this doesn't shake my confidence in your honesty. I'll take charge of these things; I think you'd better go to bed now and let me see what I can do to solve the problem. I'll borrow this empty laundry bag."

After Doctor Wells had gone, Teeny-bits undressed and got into bed, but for hours he did not fall asleep. He kept thinking of Snubby Turner climbing down the fire escape. Could it be possible that the genial Snubby was guilty of stealing from his friends, of professing to have lost property himself and finally of attempting to throw the blame on another? It seemed unbelievable. But why had Snubby stayed away from the ma.s.s meeting except to break into the rooms of his cla.s.smates? It was all too confusing. Teeny-bits could evolve no satisfactory explanation.

At two or three in the morning he fell into a troubled sleep during which he dreamed that he was playing in the Jefferson game and that the stands were yelling in a tremendous chorus:

"He's a _thief_; he's a _thief_!"

CHAPTER VII

ON THE EVE OF THE STRUGGLE

On the morning after the discovery of the loot hidden under the floor of the closet at 34 Gannett Hall Teeny-bits awoke with the feeling that he had been experiencing a nightmare in which disaster and unhappiness had fastened a death-like clutch upon him. It scarcely seemed possible that those events with which the evening had been crowded were real.

The speech at the ma.s.s meeting, the discovery of Snubby Turner sliding down the side of the fire rope and breaking into Campbell's room, the incident with Mr. Stevens, the summons to Doctor Wells' office, the visit to Gannett Hall and the astounding secret that revealed itself when the boards of the closet were lifted,--all those events seemed like strange imaginings. Teeny-bits jumped from bed and opened the door of the closet. The little marks that he and Doctor Wells had made with the paper-knife were sufficient evidence to bring back the reality of each incident and to plunge Teeny-bits into a gloomy perplexity from which not even the crisp brightness of the November day or the prospect of the Jefferson game could divert his mind.

The worst of it was that there seemed to be nothing that he could do except await developments; he thought of going to Snubby Turner and demanding an explanation of the part that Snubby had played in breaking into Tracey Campbell's room, but he could not bring himself to make what would be nothing less than a serious accusation of his friend. He determined to wait.

Throughout the day it seemed to Teeny-bits that he was leading two lives,--the one absorbed in the personal problem that had been thrust upon him, the other concerned with the mechanical performance of the various duties that came his way. He attended cla.s.ses, ate his meals and took part in the regular football practice, but his mind was elsewhere.

Coach Murray was the first to notice that everything was not quite right. When the practice was two thirds over he spoke to Teeny-bits.

"Aren't you feeling fit?" he asked.

"I'm all right," replied the half-back.

"I'm afraid you've been working a little too hard," said the coach.