Railsford, after what had happened, was hardly likely to consider Bateson’s lot a happy one, and kept a sharp look-out to prevent any mischief coming to the luckless Baby on account of his confessions. For some days, no sign of any such trouble came under the master’s notice; and he was beginning to congratulate himself that Felgate had taken a proper view of his delinquencies, and was taking the only manly course of making amends, when the smouldering fires broke out unexpectedly and fiercely. Master Bateson was one of those practical young gentlemen who believe in having a shilling’s worth for a shilling; and when after a day or two he heard himself called a sneak from every corner of the house, it occurred to him, “What’s the use of being called a sneak if I’m not one?” Whereupon he marched off to Railsford, and informed him that Felgate had twice screwed his arm; once made him catch hold of a poker at the hot end—the proof whereof he bore on his hand—had once made him stand in the corner on one foot for the space of an hour by the clock; and had half a dozen times threatened him that unless he did something wrong he would accuse him of theft or some other horrible crime to the doctor. By reason of which ill-usage and threats, he, the deponent, went in bodily fear of his life.
“Oh, and please, Mr Railsford, be sure and not let him know I told you, or he’ll kill me!”
Railsford had another uncomfortable interview with Felgate after this. Felgate as usual began by impugning the junior’s veracity, but on the master’s proposing to send for the boy, and let him repeat his story there and then, he sullenly admitted that he might have played practical jokes on his tender person of the kind suggested. When Railsford said the matter was a serious one, the prefect smiled deprecatingly, and said it was not pleasant to him to be spoken to in this manner, and that if Mr Railsford wished to punish him he would be glad to have it over and done with. Railsford said that the question in his mind was whether he would allow Felgate to continue a prefect of the house. Whereupon Felgate promptly changed colour and dropped his sneer entirely.
“I’m sure,” said he, “I had no intention of hurting him. I may have been a trifle inconsiderate, but I didn’t suppose—he didn’t complain to me, so I could hardly know he minded it.”
“I can have very little confidence in a prefect who acts as you have done, Felgate.”
“You may depend on me, sir, not to touch him again.”
“I want to depend on more than that,” said the master. “As a prefect, you hold a position of influence in the house. If that influence is badly used—”
“I don’t think you will have to complain any more,” said Felgate.
“I sincerely hope not—for you may be sure another offence of this kind could not possibly be passed over. For the present I shall say no more about this, and shall do my best to treat you with the same confidence as heretofore. Just now we need all to work together for the good of our house and the school; and the boys are sure to look to the prefects to help them. Good-night, Felgate.”
The grimace with which the prefect returned the salute, after the door closed, might have convinced Railsford, had he seen it, that he had done no good either to himself, the house, or the prefect by his leniency. As it was, he was destined to make the discovery later on. Felgate, to all appearances, resumed his old ways in the house. He let young Bateson alone, and kept to himself his feud with the master. He even attempted to pretend a languid interest in the new ambitions of his fellow-prefects, and at Ainger’s request entered his name for one of the events in the sports list. Railsford observed with some relief that he appeared to recognise the force of the rebuke which had been administered him, and with characteristic hopefulness was tempted to look upon the incident as ended.