“Where have you been, Hawkesbury?” said Mr Ladislaw.
“Oh! I went out in hopes of being able to—”
“You have told no one of what has occurred?” said Mr Ladislaw, sternly.
“Oh, no!” said the smiling Hawkesbury; “I really went out because I couldn’t bear to be in the school and be unable to do anything for you and Miss Henniker. I am so glad you have got out!”
None of us had the spirit to protest. We could see that Hawkesbury’s statement, and his expressed joy at their liberation, had gone down both with Mr Ladislaw and Miss Henniker—and at our expense, too; and yet we dared not expostulate or do ourselves justice.
Afternoon school went on, and still no Smith appeared. Was he locked up in the coal-hole or in one of the attics up stairs? I wondered; or had he been given into custody, or what? No solution came to the mystery all that afternoon or evening. We worked silently on, conscious that the Henniker’s eyes were upon us, but aware that she neither spoke nor interfered with us.
Bedtime came at last, and, in strange trouble and anxiety, I went up. I almost made up my mind to ask Mr Hashford or Mr Ladislaw what had become of Smith, but I could not screw my courage up to the pitch.
As I was undressing, Hawkesbury came near me and whispered, “Where is Smith?”
I vouchsafed no reply. I had been used to give Hawkesbury credit for good intentions, but I had had my confidence shaken by that day’s events.
“Don’t be cross with me, Batchelor,” said he; “I really don’t deserve it.”