"Where is Niven? It was you who took him away?" he said.
"Yes, sir," said Appleby. "I did, but he came back all right."
"Very good!" said the master. "You seem to be proud of it. Hold out your hand."
Appleby glanced at him, and did not move for a second or two while he thought rapidly. He did not like what he saw in his master's eyes, and now he had delivered his comrades it was time to shift for himself. He and Niven were leaving school early on the morrow, and he fancied he might escape if he could tide through the next ten minutes, because the head of the school had a good deal to attend to on the last night. The door was also open, and not far away, the candle was flickering in the draughts, and swinging suddenly round he darted for the opening. He was, however, a second too late, for the great strap came down swishing, and coiled about his shoulders, but he was in the corridor before it rose again, and making for the head of a short stairway. The master, however, seemed to be gaining on him, and Appleby fancied he heard the swish of the strap when a yard away from the first step. One taste had been sufficient, and bracing every sinew he went down in a flying leap. As he alighted there was a thud and a crash, and the candle suddenly went out. Still, nobody fell down the stairway, and surmising that the pursuer missing him with the strap had driven the candle against the wall, Appleby did not wait for a recall but went on, and into the great, dark schoolroom underneath. There he listened until heavy footsteps overhead seemed to indicate that the master had gone back to his room, when creeping up another stairway, he regained the opposite end of the corridor through a class-room. In another few minutes he had crawled back into his bed.
"Does it hurt, Tom?" said Niven sympathetically. "I'm owing you a good deal for this, but I know you don't like that kind of talk—and did you forget the duck?"
Appleby laughed softly, partly to check the groan, for there was a horrible tingling round his shoulders.
"I've had a lighter tap, but I've got the duck. It's here under the bed," he said.
CHAPTER II
OUT OF DOCK
Appleby went home with Niven next morning, as he had done once or twice before, for he had no home to go to, or relations who seemed anxious to invite him anywhere. Mr. Niven was a prosperous Liverpool merchant who had, however, made his own way in the world, and he and his wife had taken a liking to the quiet, friendless lad. Chriss Niven also wrote to his mother every week, and, though Appleby did not know this, had mentioned more than one difficulty out of which his comrade had pulled him.