Chapter XXXII.
The Arch-Plotter Arrives.
On the next day Will wrote another letter to his cousin, in which he invited him to come and pay them a visit. He gave a rambling explanation of the “essay,”—which, he thought, would not only puzzle, but also astound, poor Henry—and avoided mentioning his school-fellows at all. In fact, he had resolved in his mind that hereafter, in writing letters, he would confine himself to the matter in hand, and not discourse on the virtues and vices, the wisdom and folly, of his school-fellows. As for the plot, he said simply that they had “a game on foot,” filling up his letter by giving an interesting record of the weather for the past month, and a touching account of a lump on his horse’s hind leg.
Will posted his letter with a light heart, feeling that his presentiments must have related to the exchanged composition, and that now all would be well.
In the eloquent words of sundry novelists: “It was well for him that he could not look into the future.”
The holidays had now begun, and, as was said above, the plotters spent a great part of their time in fitting up the deserted house, which was to be the scene of their comedy—or tragedy, as the event should prove.
Having done this, the plotters, Jim included, again assembled in solemn council, to deliberate on certain features of their plot. They wished to make themselves thoroughly acquainted with all the details, so that everything should work smoothly.
“Now, when Henry comes,” said Will, “we must meet him at the station, and keep him out of Marmaduke’s sight till he sees him in the ‘Wigwam’ as the captive. Marmaduke will be all unprepared, and will take him for the captive without a doubt.”
“Yes,” Charles assented; “but will Henry consent to be rigged out as a French captive?”
“Oh, he will have to do that,” said Will; “he will have to do whatever we tell him; and we shall have to do whatever he tells us. Oh, we shall work together just like a—a—like a—”