Chapter Twenty Five.
The Blow falls.
“My good friend,” said Monsieur Lablache, “you are in a great trouble. I am sorry for you.”
Monsieur had looked in as he sometimes did to breakfast in his friend’s study.
The two men, one strong, the other weak, still clung to one another in an odd sort of friendship. Railsford’s protection had improved monsieur’s position in the school not a little. The boys of his own house were more tolerant of his foreign peculiarities; and some of the other masters, taking to heart the chivalrous example of their junior colleague, had begun to think better of the unpopular detention master, and to recognise good qualities in him to which hitherto they had been blind.
If monsieur could only have got it out of his head that he was a born diplomatist, there would not have been a more harmless master in Grandcourt.
“I am sorry for you, my good friend,” repeated he. “But you will be brave.”
“Really, Lablache, you don’t give a man an appetite for breakfast. Things don’t look very cheerful, I know; but what special cause for lamentation have we?”
“Bad lies will be told of you at the masters’ meeting to-night,” said the Frenchman, “but take courage, mon ami, I shall be there.”
“Have you any idea what the lies are to be?” asked Railsford, who perhaps was not as jubilant as he might have been at this last cheering promise.
“Meester Beekaire, so I have heard, desires to accuse you of having assaulted him. It is absurd. But no; I overhear him say to Meester Rogers in the masters’ hall that he has evidence, he has evidence—ho! ho! it is absurd.”
Railsford had not much difficulty after his talk with Arthur last night in guessing where this evidence was likely to be, and whence it proceeded. If that was the whole of the trouble he had to face, he could have afforded to laugh with monsieur. But the doctor’s question still rang in his ears. That, he could not get round or avoid.
“Bickers no doubt believes he is right,” said he, “but, as you say, monsieur, he is absurd—I wish he had been allowed to say what he wanted at the last meeting, when I wasn’t there.”
“But, mon ami, it would be unfair. Let him say it to your face, and you stand up and say to him to his face, it is one—what you call it, one very big lie.”
“Well, I will do my best,” said Railsford, smiling. “It is a wretched business altogether.”
“It is strange it is a secret still. I have my thoughts often, friend Railsford. I sometimes think of this boy, and sometimes of that boy; I have even said to myself, Why do we look only in Meester Railsford’s house? Why could it not be—for I see boys of all the houses—why could it not be perhaps one of Meester Beekaire’s own boys? They hate him—I wish Branscombe would come back. I think if he did, I would ask him.”
Railsford shifted his chair uneasily, and suddenly changed the conversation.
“How are the little girls?” asked he.
Poor monsieur! It was easy to turn him from any subject by a question like this. His eyes glistened at the mere mention of their names, and as he sat there and talked about them, with their portraits lying on the breakfast-table before him, Mr Bickers, Branscombe, even Railsford himself vanished out of sight, and his world held nothing but just those three little absent girls of his far away in his beloved France.
Railsford was tempted more than once during the day to absent himself boldly from the masters’ meeting in the evening, and allow matters to take whatever course they chose in his absence.
“After all,” he said to himself, “the fatal question will be put sooner or later, and then I must go down.”
“Probably,” said the bolder spirit within him; “but keep your feet, Railsford, my brave fellow, as long as you can.”
So he braced himself up to the ordeal, and walked across at the appointed time, calm and collected, determined to “die game,” if die he must.
It was a full meeting, but, to everybody’s surprise, most of all Railsford’s, Dr Ponsford was not present.
The head-master, as I have said, had the greatest belief in holding himself aloof from the settlement of any question which could possibly be settled without him. One might have supposed that the present question was one which would require his particular handling. Ultimately it would, no doubt; but meanwhile he would let his lieutenants sift the various issues raised, and send up to him only the last point for his adjudication.
Railsford was disappointed, on the whole; for his one wish was to have the matter settled once for all, and to know the worst before he went to bed that night.
Mr Roe, and Grover, and one or two more of his friends came forward to greet him as he entered, as if nothing was about to take place. But he did not feel actor enough to keep up the farce, and retired to his back seat at the first opportunity, and waited impatiently for the meeting to begin.
The usual routine business seemed interminable. The little questions of procedure and discipline which were brought up and talked over had very little interest to him, and once, when he found his opinion was being directly invited on some matter, he had with confusion to admit that he had not gathered what the question was.
At last Mr Roe said, turning over the agenda paper—
“That disposes of all the ordinary business. The only other matter is a personal question adjourned from our last meeting.”
Whereupon everyone settled himself in his place expectantly. Mr Bickers rose briskly and made his speech.
“Mr Roe and gentlemen,” said he, “I am sorry once again to trouble the meeting with the affairs of so very unimportant a person as myself, and I can only repeat what I have said before, and what I have a right to take credit for, that my only motive in doing so is my clear duty to Grandcourt, and the removal from a large number of innocent boys of a stigma under which they at present suffer.”
Here someone said, “Hear, hear,” and everybody agreed that Mr Bickers had begun well.
“In February last,” continued he, “I was unfortunate enough to meet with some personal violence while passing the door of an adjoining house in the dark, I was seized from behind, enveloped in a sack, which was tied over my head and shoulders, in a manner which both gagged me and rendered me powerless to move my arms. My feet were also tied together, and in this condition I was dragged into a cupboard under the stairs and there left for the night. My impression is that two or three strong persons were engaged in the outrage, although the pinioning was performed by only one. I was released in the morning by my colleague in whose house I had been attacked, who, with his senior boys, untied my hands, and expressed himself as greatly astonished and indignant at what had befallen me. I fully believed at the time these protestations on my colleague’s part were sincere.”
Here Mr Bickers was beginning to get aggressive, and the backs of one or two of Railsford’s friends, particularly monsieur’s back, went up.
“That same morning, gentlemen, the doctor came and challenged the house to produce the offender or offenders. Every boy in the house was called over and questioned separately; said each one denied not only that he had done it himself, but that he had any knowledge of who had. Every member of the house, except the master of the house, was thus questioned. The master was not challenged.
“The house was disgraced by the doctor; and from that time to this the secret has been carefully kept. But capital has been made out of the supposed misfortune of the house to set on foot several ambitious schemes which depended for their success on the continued isolation of the house from the rest of the school.
“The master of the house was a prime mover in these schemes, and in consequence decidedly interested in preserving the new state of affairs.
“Now, gentlemen, you may ask why I make all this preamble—”
“Hear, hear!” from monsieur, and “Order, order!” from the chairman.
“I do so because I feel I have no right to take for granted that you all know what is nevertheless a notorious fact in Grandcourt.
“Now, gentlemen, it appears that my colleague’s acquiescence in the disgrace of his house was not shared by some of his boys; certainly not by one—whose name I am not at liberty to mention—but whom I can speak of honourably, as being actuated by disinterested motives in securing justice to myself—which is a matter of small moment—and in removing a slur from the good name of Grandcourt.
“This boy took the trouble to make some inquiries shortly after the event, and succeeded in getting together some evidence, which, when I produce it, I think will convince you that little doubt remains as to the identity of the real culprit. I should have preferred if my informant might have been present here to state his own case, but he is naturally reluctant to come forward. He has, however, described to me what the nature of his evidence is; and I have his full authority for making use of that information now.
“In the first place, he claims to have found the sack in which I was enveloped, and which was left on the floor of the cupboard where I had been imprisoned, after my release. This sack, he tells me, bears the initials M.R., which correspond with the initials of the—”
“Midland Railway,” dryly observed Grover amid some smiles, which roused Mr Bickers considerably.
“No, sir—the initials M.R. correspond with the name of the master of the house in which I was assaulted. They belong to Mark Railsford.”
Railsford sat with his lips drawn contemptuously during this announcement, which failed to make the impression on the meeting generally which the speaker had expected. But he went on.
“In the second place, he found that the door, which closes by itself when not propped open, had been held open by a twisted piece of paper, which, on being unrolled, was found to be part of a newspaper, addressed to Mark Railsford, Esquire, Grandcourt.”
This made rather more impression than the last; except on Railsford, who still faced his accuser scornfully.
“In the third place, a match-box was discovered on the ledge above the door, placed there, to judge by its freedom from dust, very recently. I ask you to notice three things in connection with this, gentlemen. A match was struck while I was being dragged into the cupboard; a match found on the floor that morning corresponds exactly with the matches in the box placed up on the ledge; and finally, the height of that ledge from the ground shows that it could only have been placed there by someone over six feet high; and the only person of that height in the house is the master, Mr Mark Railsford.”
A dead silence followed this, and masters present wondered how Railsford could still sit so indifferent and unmoved.
“Now, gentlemen,” continued Mr Bickers, after having allowed a due interval for this last shot to go home, “I should not be justified in repeating these assertions unless I were also prepared to lay before you the proofs on which those assertions are based. I therefore requested my informant to let me have these. He has done this, and this parcel,”—here he took up a brown-paper parcel from the seat beside him—“containing the articles I have mentioned, was placed in my hands just as I came to this meeting. I have not even examined them myself, so that I am sure you will do me the credit of believing that when I place them just as they are in your hands, Mr Chairman, I cannot be charged with having tampered with my evidence in any way.”
Here he handed the parcel up to Mr Roe, amid dead silence.
“Had you not better open it yourself?” asked the chairman, who evidently did not like the business.
“No, sir; I request you will do so, and that Mr Railsford will confront the contents first in your hands, not mine.”
“There is a letter here addressed to you,” said Mr Roe.
“Please read that also,” said Mr Bickers, declining to take it.
Mr Roe knitted his brow and tore open the envelope.
His brows went up with a start as his eyes fell on the opening words. He read the letter through, and then, turning to Mr Bickers, said, “This letter is not intended for reading aloud, Mr Bickers.”
“Yes it is. I insist on your reading it, Mr Chairman.”
“If you insist, I will do it; but I think you would be wiser to put it in your pocket.”
“Read it, Mr Chairman,” repeated Mr Bickers excitedly.
Mr Roe accordingly read, in a voice which betrayed some emotion:—
“‘Sir,— I’m a cad, and a liar and a thief. Don’t believe a word I say. You can tell anyone you like; most of them know already.
“‘Yours truly,
“‘Jerry Sneak.’”
The effect of the letter may be more easily imagined than expressed. The audience received it first with astonishment, then with consternation, and finally, as the light dawned in on their minds, with laughter. Railsford alone looked serious and bewildered.
As for Mr Bickers, his face turned white, and he looked for a moment as if he would spring at Mr Roe’s throat. He snatched the letter from the chairman’s hand and looked at it, and then stared round him, on the amused faces of his colleagues.
“You have been hoaxed, I fear,” said Mr Roe.
Mr Bickers said nothing, but pointed to the parcel.
“Am I to open it?” asked the chairman.
“Yes, yes!” said the master hoarsely.
Mr Roe obeyed, and disclosed the turf amid another general laugh, in which all but Railsford and Mr Bickers joined.
The latter had by this time lost his self-control. He glared round him like a baited animal, and then, rounding suddenly on Railsford, exclaimed, “This is your doing! You are at the bottom of this!”
Railsford vouchsafed no reply but a contemptuous shrug. He was in no humour to see the joke. Disgust was his one sensation.
“Order, please,” said the chairman. “These meetings, if they are to be of any value, must be conducted without any quarrelling. Mr Bickers, may we consider this unpleasant affair now at an end?”
“No!” shouted Mr Bickers. “I have been insulted! I don’t care by whom! The matter is not at an end—not till I have received an answer from this Railsford here to my question! Let him get up like a man and say he did not attack me like a coward last term, and allow the blame and suspicion to fall on others; let him even get up and declare that he does not know anything about the affair. I defy him to do it! He dare not!”
A silence followed this violent tirade, and everyone turned to Railsford. He sat, motionless and pale, with his eyes on his accuser.
“Have you anything to say, Mr Railsford, or shall we consider the matter at an end?”
“I have nothing to say,” said the Master of the Shell, sitting, “except that I refuse to answer these questions.”
“Very good! Quite right!” said monsieur, springing to his feet. “When Meester Beekaire can speak like a gentleman, he—”
Here the chairman interrupted.
“I addressed my question to Mr Railsford,” said he. “I can understand he declines, under present circumstances, to make any reply to these accusations. But may I suggest it would be most unfortunate if we had to adjourn this disagreeable question again? (Hear, hear.) I imagine it can be very easily terminated to-night. We are all ready, I am sure, to make allowance for a gentleman who is suffering from the irritation of a practical joke. His questions were undoubtedly offensively put, and Mr Railsford, as I say, was entitled to refuse to answer them. But I ask him, in order to close this painful controversy finally, to allow me as chairman of this meeting, to repeat those questions myself, so that he may have an opportunity, as no doubt he desires, of formally placing on record his denial of the charges which have been brought against him.”
Railsford gasped inwardly. The long-expected blow was coming, and he felt it was no use to run from it any longer.
“The questions resolve themselves to two. First. Is there any foundation for the charge that you committed or in any way participated in the assault on Mr Bickers last term? And second, Is there any truth in the statement that you know who the culprit or culprits are? Mr Bickers, have I stated your questions correctly?”
“Yes,” growled Mr Bickers. “Let him answer them if he can.”
Every one now turned to Railsford, who rose slowly to his feet and fixed his eyes full on the chairman. His friends thought they had rarely seen a finer-looking man than he appeared at that moment, and looked forward with pleasure to applauding his denial, and greeting him as finally clear of the odious suspicions under which he had laboured for so long.
His reply was brief and clear:—
“Mr Roe and gentlemen,—The first question I answer with an emphatic negative. The second question I do not answer at all.”
A bombshell exploding in the hall could not have caused greater consternation and astonishment than this avowal.
Grover, monsieur, and his other friends turned pale, and wondered if they were dreaming; others frowned; Mr Bickers smiled.
“I knew it!” said he. “I knew it!”
Mr Roe said,—
“You can hardly have heard the question properly, Mr Railsford; may I repeat it?”
“I heard it perfectly well,” said Railsford.
“You are aware of the very serious nature of your reply? Do you give any reasons for your refusal?”
“None at all.”
“I think,” said Mr Grover, rising gallantly to protect his friend, “it would be well if this meeting adjourned. I submit there is no further business before us.”
“I oppose that,” said Mr Bickers, who had recovered his calmness rapidly. “I propose, Mr Chairman, that this meeting adjourn for five minutes, while the head-master is invited to come and assist our decisions.”
This was seconded.
“If I may be allowed,” said Railsford, “I should like to support that proposal.”
After that, of course, it was agreed to; and for five minutes the meeting stood suspended.
Railsford’s friends utilised the interval by begging him to reconsider his position, and if possible put himself right by stating all he knew. He thanked them, but said it was impossible, and finally withdrew again to his own seat, and waited anxiously for the doctor’s arrival.
In due time the head-master arrived, with a tolerable notion of the object of this unusual summons.
Mr Roe briefly explained what had taken place, and reported the circumstances under which the head-master’s authority was now invited.
For once the doctor looked genuinely distressed. Despite all his rebuffs, he had for some weeks looked upon the Master of the Shell as one of the most promising men on his staff; and he deplored the infatuation which now promised to bring his connection with Grandcourt to an abrupt end.
But there was no alternative.
“Mr Railsford,” said he, “you have heard Mr Roe’s statement; is it correct?”
“Quite correct, sir.”
“And you persist in your refusal to say whether or no you have any knowledge as to who the persons were who assaulted Mr Bickers?”
“I cannot answer the question.”
“You know that the inference from such a refusal is that you know the names and refuse to give them up—in other words, that you are shielding the evil-doers?”
“I cannot answer that or any question on the subject, Doctor Ponsford. I am aware of my position, and feel that I have no course open but to place my resignation in your hands.”
Once more poor monsieur started up.
“Oh no. He has good reasons. He is not bad. He must not leave.”
The doctor motioned him to be silent, and then, addressing Railsford said—
“Your resignation of course follows as a natural consequence of the position you adopt. It is better that you should offer it than that I should have to ask for it. I shall take a week to consider my duty in the matter. This meeting is now at an end.”