“Thank you, Burnet,” said the tutor, smiling. “It’s what I expected from your frank, manly nature.”
“Oh, and I’m sorry too,” said Mike quickly; but he frowned slightly, for the speaker had not called him frank and manly.
“I have no more to say,” said the tutor, smiling at both in turn; “and I suppose I ought to apologise for insisting upon seeing that paper. I am glad to find that it was not of so trifling a nature as I thought for on Michael Ladelle’s part, though I am sorry that you, Burnet, treated the note he passed you in so ribald a way. ‘You be hanged!’ is hardly a gentlemanly way of replying to a historical memorandum or query such as this: ‘Lanthorn and rope.’ Of course, I see the turn your thoughts had taken, Michael.”
The boys stared at him wonderingly. While they had been suspecting old Joe Daygo of watching them, had Mr Deane been quietly observing them unnoticed, and had he divined that they were going to take lanthorn and rope that afternoon?
“Of course, history is a grand study,” continued the tutor, “and I am glad to see that you have a leaning in that direction; but I like to be thorough. When we are having lessons on history let us give our minds to it, but when we are treating of algebra let us try to master that. There—we will say no more. I am glad, though, that you recall our reading; but try, Michael, to remember some of the other important parts of French history, and don’t let your mind dwell too much upon the horrors of the Revolution. It is very terrible, all that about the excesses of the mob and their mad hatred of the nobility and gentry—A bas les aristocrates! and their cry, A la lanterne! Yes: very terrible those ruthless executions with the lanthorn and the rope. But now, please, I have finished that compound equation. Pray go on with yours.”
The two lads bent down now earnestly to their work, and with a little help mastered the puzzle which had seemed hopeless a short time before. Then the rest of the morning glided away rapidly, and Vince hurried off home to his midday dinner, after a word or two about meeting, which was to be at the side of the dwarf-oak wood, to which each was to make his way so as not to excite attention, and in case, as Vince still believed, Daygo really was keeping an eye upon their movements.
“I thought as much,” said Vince aloud, as he reached the appointed place, with a good-sized creel in his hand, the hammer and crowbar being in a belt under his jersey, like a pair of hidden weapons. “I’d go by myself if I had the rope.”
“And lanthorn,” said Mike, raising his head from where he had been lying hidden in a clump of heather.
“Hullo, then!” cried Vince joyously. “I didn’t see you there. But, I say: lanthorn and rope! I felt as if I must burst out laughing.”
“Yes: wasn’t it comic?”