CHAPTER XIX
THE RESULT OF THE PROTEST
When Finch, for he was the eavesdropper, crawled out of the bushes under the window of the Masters’ common-room, he darted quickly, keeping within the shadow of the Old School wall, into a little clump of trees beyond the terrace. He was stiff and sore from lying motionless so long and had got thoroughly chilled from the dampness of the ground. But his mind and soul were at fever heat.
He had heard almost all of the conversation in the room above him, and he was overwhelmed by the course of events. He felt much as a general must who receives the report of a spy informing him that the enemy have augmented forces with which he cannot hope to cope. Finch felt that he could not endure the situation another minute. It had seemed that he must shriek out more than once as Mr. Roylston had so calmly, with such deadly determination, built up his case against Deering. Finch felt his hero and himself the victims of an ignoble conspiracy.
The boy had grown of late so accustomed to deceit, that for the time being he absolutely forgot how contemptible his own action had been and how it would appear to others, to Tony. He was an Ishmael, and felt himself justified in raising his hands against every one because all hands seemed raised against him. And his poor warped mind knew of no weapons except deceit, trickery, eavesdropping, with which to cope against the authority and success which were his enemies. But now he was thinking of but one thing—the position he so eagerly coveted for Tony was threatened, and, thanks to the efforts of his inveterate enemy, was apt to be given to another.
After pausing for a moment or so in the clump of bushes, in which to gather together his shivering body, he slipped off, entered the Old School by a basement door, made a detour through the locker-rooms, and emerged again in the north quadrangle. He dashed across the campus and up the stairs of Standerland to the door of Number Five study, and knocked boldly, almost without knowing what he was going to say to Tony.
Deering and Jimmie were within, with two or three other boys. Finch gave a frightened glance about, but for once he overcame his self-consciousness enough to whisper at Deering, “Come over to my room, will you? I want to see you particularly for a few minutes.”
Tony went to the door. “What is it?” he began.