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Cock-House at Fellsgarth

<h3>Chapter Twenty.</h3> <h4>“Fama Volat.”</h4> The Modern seniors had certainly experienced a run of bad luck since the inauguration of the strike, which was to have brought their rivals down on their knees and secured for the Modern side a supremacy in Fellsgarth. The second Rendlesham match, the defection of Corder, the mutiny of the juniors, the disbanding of the clubs, the row with the head-master, and finally, the defeat of Brinkman by his own victim, might be held to be enough to chasten their spirits, and induce them to ask themselves whether the game was worth the candle. But, such is the infatuation of wrong-headedness, they still breathed vengeance on some one; and this time their victim was to be Rollitt. The grudge against him had been steadily accumulating during the term. His outrage on the gentle Dangle was yet to be atoned for. His crime of playing in the fifteen was yet unappeased. His contempt of the whole crew of his enemies was not to be pardoned. Even his rescue of the lost juniors told against him, for it had helped to turn the public feeling of the School in favour of those recalcitrant young rebels. So far there had been no getting at him. He would not quarrel. He would not even recognise the existence of any one he did not care for. But now a chance had come. The more they discussed it, the more morally certain was it that he was answerable for the disappearance of the money from the Club funds. The very reluctance of his own house to take action in the matter showed that they at least appreciated the gravity of the suspicion. It was a trump card for the Moderns. By pushing it now, they would be doing a service to the School. They would pose as the champions of honesty. They would be mortifying the Classics, even while they pretended to assist them; and, above all, they would wipe out scores with Rollitt himself, in a way he could not well disregard. Clapperton and Dangle were not superlatively clever boys; but, whether by chance or design, they certainly hit upon an admirable method for bringing the matter to a crisis. Dangle took upon himself to confide his suspicions, as a dead and terrible secret, to Wilcox, a middle-boy of Forder’s house, and notorious as the most prolific gossip in Fellsgarth; who, moreover, was known to have several talking acquaintances in the other houses. Wilcox received Dangle’s communication with astonishment and—oh, of course, he wouldn’t breathe a word of it to any one, not for the world; it was a bad business, but it was Fisher major’s business to see it put right, and so on. That night as Wilcox and his friend Underwood were retiring to rest, the former confided to the latter, under the deadliest pledge of secrecy, that there was a scandal going on about the School accounts. He mightn’t say more except that the fellow suspected was one of the last he himself should have dreamt of, although others might be less surprised. That was not all. Next morning he sat next to Calder, a Classic boy, in Hall, and asked him if he could keep a secret. Oh yes, Calder could keep any amount of secrets. Then Wilcox told him the same story that he had confided to Underwood, only adding that the amount in question was said to be several pounds. Calder hazarded the names of several boys; but Wilcox shrugged his shoulders at them all. “You’d better not ask me,” he said; “it will only get out and make trouble.” “Oh! but I promise I wouldn’t tell a soul,” said Calder. “I can’t tell you, though. But I’ll tell you this. You’d never guess the fellow had had as much in his pocket all his life.” “What—do you mean Rollitt?” “I can’t tell you, I say. I’m not at liberty to mention names.” The rumour thus admirably started went on merrily. Before nightfall it was known in half a dozen Modern studies that the Club funds had been robbed of £10 or £12 by a Classic boy, and that he was being shielded by his own seniors. On the Classic side four or five fellows whispered to one another that Rollitt had been caught in the act of stealing money out of Fisher major’s rooms a day or two ago. Presently, one enterprising gossip sent the story of Widow Wisdom’s boat rolling in and out with the rumour of the stolen money. Encouraged by that, some one else hinted that there had been deficiencies last term as well as this; and in and out with the new story was started the report that last term Rollitt had set up with a fishing-tackle and book of flies worth ever so much. A couple of days later the number of boys in the secret had multiplied fast, and Rollitt, as he walked across the Green to Hall or class, was watched and pointed out mysteriously by a score or more of curious boys. Of course the story grew to all sorts of curious shapes. Percy (who was the first of the invalided juniors to appear in his usual haunts) had it from Rix, who had had it from Banks, who had had it from Underwood, who had had it from Wilcox, who had had it from Dangle, who had been present on the occasion, that Rollitt had met the head-master in a lane near Widow Wisdom’s, and holding a pistol at his head had made him turn out all his pockets, and relieved him of fifty pounds. Percy said he didn’t believe it. Whereupon Rix reduced the amount to thirty pounds. Percy still could not accept the story. Whereat Rix, anxious to meet his friend as far as possible, substituted a walking-stick for the pistol. Still Percy’s gullet could not swallow even what was left. Whereupon Rix suggested that it was open to doubt whether it was the doctor who was robbed or Fisher major. It might have been the latter. Still Percy looked sceptical. Which called forth an explanation that Rix did not mean to say that Dangle actually witnessed the occurrence; but that he knew it for a fact all the same. Percy shook his head still. And Rix, feeling much injured, laid the scene of the outrage in Fisher’s study, and conceded that the money might belong to the clubs, and might be only five pounds. Percy had the temerity once more to express doubt. Whereupon Rix flatly declined to come down another penny in the amount, or alter his story one iota, with one possible exception; that the money may have been taken when Fisher major was not in his room. Percy considered the anecdote had been boiled down sufficiently for human consumption, and grieved Rix prodigiously by saying that he knew all about it weeks ago, and what did he mean by coming and telling him his wretched second-hand stories? However, whatever variations the rumour underwent as it passed from hand to hand, it managed to retain its three most salient points all through—namely, that Fisher major had been robbed; that the money taken belonged to the club; and that the suspected thief was Rollitt. For a week or two Rollitt remained profoundly ignorant of the charges against him. His unapproachable attitude was the despair both of friend and enemy. Yorke, who would have given anything to let him have an opportunity of denying or explaining the charge, was at his wits’ end how to get at him. Dangle, on the contrary, who was chiefly interested in the penalties in store for the thief, was equally at a loss how to bring him to bay. He would see no one. He shut himself in his study and fastened the door. In class and Hall he was practically deaf and dumb; and in his solitary walks by the river it was as much as any one’s comfort for the whole term was worth to accost him. By one of those strange coincidences which often bring the most unlikely persons into sympathy, Yorke and Dangle each decided to write what they hesitated to say. Yorke had endless difficulty over his letter. He could not bring himself to believe Rollitt a thief, yet he could not deny that suspicions existed. Still less could he evade his duty as captain to see things right. The latter duty he might have put off on Mr Wakefield or the doctor. But the mere reporting to them of the circumstances would fix the suspicions on Rollitt more pointedly than they were already, and certainly more pointedly than Yorke wished them to be. “Dear Rollitt,” he wrote, “I hope you will not resent my writing to tell you of a rumour which is afloat very injurious to you, and one which I feel quite sure you can dispose of at once. I would not write about it, only I am very anxious for the sake of everybody you should deny it, and so shut up others who would be glad enough if it were true. A sum of money, about £4 10 shillings, belonging to the Club funds has been lost from Fisher major’s room. The rumour is that you have taken it, and those who accuse you make much of the coincidence that about the time when the money was said to be lost, you spent a similar sum in the purchase of a new boat for Widow Wisdom. If I didn’t feel quite sure you would be able to deny the charge and explain anything about it that seems suspicious, I should not have cared to write this. “Yours truly,— “C. Yorke.” Dangle’s letter was less ingenuous. “The secretary of the Fellsgarth clubs has been requested to ask Rollitt the following questions in reference to a sum of about £4 10 shillings missing from the funds in the treasurer’s hands. “1. Is it true that Rollitt was seen at the door of Fisher major’s room on Saturday afternoon, September 21, at a time when everybody else was absent from the house? “2. Is it true that immediately afterwards Rollitt paid five pounds for a new boat for Widow Wisdom? “3. Where did that money come from? “4. Does Rollitt know that he is suspected by every boy in Fellsgarth of having stolen it; and that now that the clubs are dissolved the treasurer will be called upon to refund the money? “5. What is Rollitt going to do? Does he deny it? If not, will he take the consequences? “Signed for the Club Committee,— “T. Dangle, Sec.” Fisher minor, the only boy to whom a missive to the School hermit might safely be entrusted, was on his way to Rollitt’s study with the captain’s note in his hand, when he was met on the stairs by Cash. “What cheer, kid?” said the latter. “Where are you off to?” “Taking a letter to Rollitt,” said Fisher minor. “That’s just what I am, from Dangle. I say, you may as well give him the two. No answer. Ta-ta.” And he thrust his missive into Fisher’s hands. It was just as easy to hand Rollitt two letters as one. So Fisher proceeded on his errand. Rollitt was writing a letter, which he hurriedly put aside when the messenger entered. “Get out!” he said, looking up. But when he saw who the intruder was his tone relaxed a little. “Fisher minor? Better?” “Yes, thanks. I had a cold, but that was all. I say, Rollitt, you were an awful brick helping us down that night.” “Nonsense!” said Rollitt, pulling out his paper and going on writing. “Here are two letters for you,” said the boy. Rollitt motioned him gruffly to lay them down on the table and depart—which he did gladly. Rollitt went on writing. It may be no breach of confidence if we allow the reader to glance over his shoulder. “Dear Mother,—You ask me if I am happy, and how I like school. I am not happy, and I hate Fellsgarth. Nobody cares about me. It’s no use my trying to be what I am not. I am not a gentleman, and I hope I never shall be, if the fellows here are specimens. Just because I’m poor they have nothing to do with me. I don’t complain of that. I prefer it. I’d much sooner be working for my living like father than wasting my time at a place like this. If those ladies would give the money they spend on keeping me here to you and father it would do much more good. There is only one boy I care about here, and he is a little fellow who was kind to me of his own accord, and doesn’t fight shy of me because I’ve no money and live on charity. I would ever so much rather come and live at home at the end of this term. It would be even worse at Oxford than it is here; and the ladies, if they want to be kind, will let me leave. I know you and father want me to become a grand gentleman. I would a hundred times rather be what I really am, and live at home with you. “Your loving son,— “Alfred.” This dismal letter concluded, the writer produced his books and began work, heedless of the two letters on his table, which lay all day where Fisher minor had deposited them. He went in and out to class, and those who watched him saw no signs of trouble in his demeanour. In the afternoon he stole up to the river with his rod; and any one who had seen him land his three-pounder, and leave it, as he left all his fish, at Widow Wisdom’s cottage, would have been puzzled by his indifferent air. That evening, as he was about to go to bed, he discovered the letters. Dangle’s letter, which he opened first, he scarcely seemed to heed. The sight of the name at foot was sufficient. He crumpled it up and tossed it in the corner. But Yorke’s aroused him. He read it through once or twice, and his face grew grim as he did so. Presently he went to the corner and picked up Dangle’s letter and once more read it. Then he crumpled up both together, and instead of going to bed sat in his chair and looked at the wall straight in front of him. The next day those who watched him saw him go into school and out as usual, except that he seemed less listless and more observant. He glanced aside now and then at the groups of boys who stood and looked after him, and his face had a cloud on it which was almost thunderous. “Did you give my letter to Rollitt?” said Yorke to Fisher minor. “Yes, yesterday; and one from Dangle too,” said the junior. “Dangle!” said the captain to himself; “he’ll think we are in collusion. Why ever didn’t I leave it alone?” He felt thus still more when later on in the day Dangle came over. “I hear you have written to Rollitt for an explanation. It was about time. What does he reply?” Yorke’s back went up at the dictatorial tone of the inquiry. “If there is anything to tell you, you will hear,” said he. “That means he hasn’t replied, I suppose. I have taken care that he shall reply. I have told Forder all about it.” “You’ve told Forder? You cad!” exclaimed Yorke, in a tone which made Dangle thankful he was near the door. “Yes,” snarled he. “It may be your interest to shield a thief, but it’s not in the interest of Fellsgarth. You won’t take the matter up; Forder will. I’ve told him you know about it, and will give him all the particulars. Hope you’ll enjoy it.” And he disappeared, only just in time for his own comfort. Yorke’s rage was unbounded. Of all the masters, Mr Forder was the one he would least have chosen to take up an affair of this kind. He was harsh, unsympathetic, hasty. And of all persons to prime the master in the circumstances of the case, Dangle was the least to be trusted. His temptation was to go at once to Rollitt, and force the matter to a conclusion before Mr Forder had time to interfere. Things were going from bad to worse. Would they never come right again? Next morning, before he could decide what to do, a message came from Mr Forder, requesting him and his fellow-prefects to come across to the master’s room. In no amiable frame of mind they obeyed. As they expected, Clapperton, Brinkman, Dangle, and Fullerton were also present. “This is a most serious case,” said Mr Forder. “Yorke, I understand you know more about it than any one. Will you kindly say all you know?” “I know nothing,” said the captain, “except that I believe the story is groundless.” “That is unsatisfactory. In a matter like this, there must be nothing like sheltering the wrong-doer.” “It’s because we were afraid of that, sir,” said Clapperton, “that we thought it right to tell you about it.” “Of course. Fisher major, perhaps you will tell us about the missing money.” Fisher major briefly related his loss and the efforts he had made to discover it. “And what are your grounds for suspecting Rollitt?” “I don’t suspect him, sir; or rather I should not if it were not for what Dangle has said about him.” Thereupon Dangle was called upon to repeat his accusation. “It seems to me,” said the master, “we require two important witnesses to make the case clear. I believe Mrs Wisdom is in the house at present. Will you inquire, Fullerton, and if so, tell her to come here? And will you, Fisher major, fetch your brother?” After a painful delay, in which the rival seniors sat glaring at one another, and the master made notes of the evidence so far, the two witnesses were forthcoming. Widow Wisdom had nothing to say except in praise of Master Rollitt, and was glad enough in support of it to relate the incident of the boat, and even produce the receipt, which she carried about like a talisman in her pocket. She had no idea that her glowing testimony was to be used against her favourite, or she would have bitten off her tongue sooner than give it: As for Fisher minor, confused and abashed in the presence of so many seniors, he blundered out his story of the eventful half-holiday, looking in vain towards his brother to ascertain if he was doing well or ill. He blabbed all he knew about Rollitt; the condition of his study, the nature of his solitary walks, the poverty of his possessions—everything that could possibly confirm the suspicions against him; and forgot to mention anything which might in the least avail on the other side. At the close of the court-martial Mr Forder summed up. “I am afraid it is a very clear case,” said he. “It is very painful to think that a Fellsgarth boy should come to such a pass. The matter must be reported to the head-master. But before doing so it would be fair to see Rollitt, and hear what he has to say. We have no right to condemn any one unheard. If he is innocent, it will be easy for him to prove it. Fisher major, will you tell him to come?” Fisher major reluctantly obeyed. It was nearly half an hour before he returned, and then he came alone. “I cannot find Rollitt, sir. He is not in the house. He was absent from morning call-over. And the house-keeper says he was not in his room this morning, and that his bed was not slept in last night.” <hr> <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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