Ill news travels fast, and before morning school the tidings had spread far and wide. Westcott, arriving in the big quadrangle ten minutes before the bell rang, was told it by his chum Lawrence.
"I say, Westcott," cried the latter; "what d'you think? The Cock-house Cup's gone!"
For a moment the day boy seemed overcome with the shock of this announcement. He gulped in his throat, and then blankly said, "Oh!"
"Yes, it's gone, right enough," continued the other excitedly. "Lost, or stolen, or something. Awful rum business. I've just heard all about it from young Redfern, who's at Conway's."
And the speaker launched out into a vivid account of what had happened, not forgetting to embellish the story with a little addition, prompted by his own imagination.
"If they can't find where it's gone, they'll have a detective down from London."
Westcott opened his mouth as though to reply, but he only gave forth a kind of inarticulate gasp.
The excitement grew as the morning progressed. That a big silver cup could have totally disappeared, and in such an extraordinary manner, when the case which contained it was locked, was almost inconceivable; and added to this was the fact which has already been stated, that the challenge vase was the most valued trophy competed for by Hadbury boys.
"My eye!" exclaimed one member of the Sixth to another. "Brise will be in a pretty way when he comes back. He'll pitch into those Conway beggars for not being more careful, I know."
As the foregoing remark seemed to imply, the winners of the cup were held in a way responsible for its loss, and the Conwayites were destined to come in for a good deal of blame and reproach. Nowhere did the feeling rise higher than in the Middle Fourth, of which form Westcott was a member.