Saurin had the chorus in the play of Euripides, which was undergoing mutilation at his fingers’ ends, so he went on translating till he heard, “That will do. Maxwell!” and then he relapsed into his private meditations. After all, he had not struck the blow, Marriner’s trying to drag him into a share of the responsibility was all nonsense. They might say he ought to have given the alarm, or gone for a doctor, but nothing more. And yet he fancied he had heard somewhere that to be one of a party engaged in an unlawful act which resulted in anyone being killed was complicity or something, which included all in the crime. One thing was clear, he must keep his counsel, and not let Edwards or anyone know anything about it, because they might be questioned; and he must guard against showing that he was at all anxious. And why should he be? A man did not die for one knock on the head; he was probably all right again. And he could not have seen his face so as to recognise him; it was quite in the shade where they had been struggling. It was all nonsense his worrying himself; and yet he could not help listening, expecting a messenger to come with some alarming intelligence, he could not define what. After school Edwards came up to him and drew him aside confidentially, full of eagerness and curiosity.
“Well,” he said, “was it good fun? How did it all go off?”
“It was a regular sell,” replied Saurin, smothering his impatience at being questioned, and forcing himself to take the tone he was accustomed to assume towards his chum in confidential communications.
“How! did you not meet Marriner?”
“Oh, yes! I met him all right; but it was no good. There were other poachers out last night, and we heard their guns, so of course we could not attempt anything, because the gamekeepers would all have been on the look-out. You were well out of it, not coming, for it was precious cold work waiting about, and no fun after all.”
“What a bore! But you will have better luck next time, perhaps.”
“I hope so, if I go; but the fact is, I have lost confidence in Marriner rather. He ought to have found out that those other fellows were going out last night, don’t you see? At least he always brags that he knows their movements. And it will be some time before the moon serves again; and then the Christmas holidays will be coming on; and by next term the pheasants will all have been shot off. The chance has been missed.”
“Well, at all events, you have got all right and not been discovered. Do you know, when one comes to think about it, it was an awful risk,” said Edwards.
“Of course it was,” replied Saurin; “that made all the fun of it. Rather idiotic, though, too, since one hopes to preserve game one’s self some day. It would be a better lark to go out to catch poachers than to go out poaching.”
“A great deal, I should say. Not but what that is risky work too. Those fellows do not flinch from murder when they are interrupted.”