Follow My leader Part 50

"Oh, Mr Webster, I say, please don't say that. He never took it, really he didn't."

"Come, that'll do. Twelve o'clock to-morrow, unless I get the pencil, you'll get a call from the police. Off you go. I've had enough of you."

And the bookseller, whose temper had gradually been evaporating during the visit, bustled our heroes out of the shop, and slammed the door behind them.

"It's all up, old man," said Heathcote, lugubriously. "I did think the cad would shut up for twenty-seven s.h.i.+llings and sixpence."

"I'm afraid he wants me more than the money," said Coote. "Whatever _can_ I do?"

"You can't prove you didn't take it; that's the worst," said d.i.c.k.

"He can't prove I did. He only thinks I did. How I wish I _had_ that stupid pencil."

With which original conclusion they returned to Templeton. d.i.c.k, under cover of his _exeats_ marched ostentatiously in. The other two, in a far more modest and shy manner, entered by their hands and knees, on receipt of a signal from their leader that the coast was clear.

Heathcote deemed it prudent not to exhibit himself in the Den, and therefore retired to Pledge's study as the place least likely to be dangerous.

Pledge was there working.

"Hullo, youngster," said he, "what's been your little game this evening?

Been to a prayer meeting?"

"No," said Heathcote laconically.

It was no part of Pledge's manner to appear inquisitive. He saw there was a mystery, and knew better than to appear in the slightest degree anxious to solve it.

He had as yet heard nothing of the newly-formed alliance in low life, and attributed Heathcote's uncommunicativeness either to shame for some discreditable proceeding, or else to pa.s.sing ill-humour. In either case he reckoned on knowing all about it before long.

Heathcote was very uncomfortable. It had not occurred to him till just now that Pledge would resent the return of his allegiance to d.i.c.k as an act of insubordination. Not that that would keep him from d.i.c.k; but Heathcote, who had hitherto admired his old patron as a friend, by no means relished the idea of having him an enemy. He therefore felt that the best thing he could do was to hold his tongue, and if, after all, a row was to come, well--it would have to come.

He sat down to do his own preparation, and for half an hour neither student broke the silence.

Then Pledge, who had never known his _protege_ silent for so long together before, felt there must be something the matter which he ought to be aware of.

So he leaned back in his chair and stretched himself.

"You're a nice boy, George!" said he, laughing; "you've been sitting half an hour with your pen in your hand and haven't written a word."

Georgie coloured up.

"It's a stiff bit of prose," said he.

"So it seems. Suppose I do it for you?"

"No, thanks, Pledge," said the boy, who, without having any particular horror of having his lessons done for him, did not like just now, when he was conscious of having revolted against his senior, to accept favours from him.

"No? It's true, then, Georgie is joining the elect and going to take holy orders?"

"No, I'm not," said Georgie.

"Then Georgie is trying to be funny and not succeeding," said the monitor, drily, returning to his own books.

Another silent quarter of an hour pa.s.sed, and then the first bed bell rang.

"Good-night," said Heathcote, gathering together his books.

"Good-night, dear boy!" said Pledge, with the red spots coming out on his cheeks; "come down with me to the 'Tub' in the morning."

"I'm going down with another fellow," said Georgie, feeling his heart b.u.mping in his chest.

"Oh!" said the monitor, indifferently; "with a _very_ dear friend?--the saintly d.i.c.k, for instance?"

"Yes," said Heathcote, and left the room.

Pledge sat motionless, watching the closed door for a full minute, and, as he did so, an ugly look crept over his face, which it was well for Heathcote he did not see. Then he turned mechanically to his books, and buried himself in them for the rest of the evening.

The "Tub" next morning was crowded as usual, and it needed very little penetration on Pledge's part to see that the triple alliance between our three heroes was fast and serious.

They undressed on the same rock, they dived side by side from the spring-board, they came above water at the same moment, they challenged collectively any other three of the Den to meet them in mortal combat in mid-Tub, and they ended up their performance by swimming solemnly in from the open arm-in-arm, Coote, of course, being in the middle.

All this Pledge observed, and marked also their anxious looks and hurried consultations as they dressed. He guessed that there must be some matter of common interest which was just then acting as the pivot on which the alliance turned, and his taste for scientific research determined him, if possible, to discover it.

So when, after "Tub," the three friends marched arm-in-arm down town, Pledge casually strolled the same way at a respectful distance.

It was clear the "Firm" was bound on a momentous and unpleasant errand.

Coote every other minute was convulsed by the brotherly claps which the backers-up on either side bestowed upon him; and the long faces of all three, as now and then they stopped and scrutinised the shop-window of some silversmith or p.a.w.nbroker, betokened anything but content or high spirits.

At length Pledge saw them enter very dejectedly at Mr Webster's door, where, not being anxious to disturb them, he left them and took a short turn down the shady side of High Street, within view of the stationer's shop.

Their business was not protracted, for in about three minutes he saw them emerge, with faces longer than ever, and turn their steps hurriedly and dismally towards Templeton.

When they were out of sight, Pledge crossed the road and casually turned in at Mr Webster's door.

"Well, Webster, anything new?"

"No, sir; nothing in your line, I'm afraid," said the shopman.

"By the way," said Pledge, carelessly, "was that my f.a.g I saw coming out here just now?"

"Mr Heathcote?" said Webster, frowning. "Yes, that was he, sir, and two friends of his. I'm afraid he's getting into bad company, Mr Pledge."

"Are you? What makes you think that?"

"It's an unpleasant matter altogether," said Mr Webster, "and likely to be more so. The fact is, sir, I've been robbed."

And he proceeded to give Pledge an account of the loss of the pencil- case, and of the efforts of the boys to get the matter hushed up.