his unfortunate father?

It was good to see how the boys had come round and how they regarded
Ralph as a comrade to be proud of; though Elgert and Dobson and the set
whom they led, glowered and sneered, and said unkind things that hurt
no one, and were treated with contempt.

And Saturday had come, and the boys were preparing to set out for their
homes, and Ralph had a bundle of books under his arm, for he meant to
have another quiet read that evening. The Newlet would want a lot of
working for, and, since he had entered, he meant to do all he could to
win success.

"What are you going to do?" said Warren; and the pair confessed that
they had made no particular plans.

"I cannot spare very much time, anyway," said Ralph. "I want to put in
a few hours' work to-night."

"You will go and make yourself silly if you do too much," answered Tom
Warren. "All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy, you know. Will you
both meet me after you have had lunch--say about one o'clock--and we
will go for a ramble?"

"Where?" asked Charlton. "Anywhere in particular?"

"I will tell you a nice walk. Let us go over the moor, and past Great
Stow, out to Crab Tree Hill. It is jolly out there; and there are some
lovely butterflies in the chalk there."

"Butterflies in chalk?" said Ralph, raising his brows in wonder; and
Warren laughed.

"You kite! I mean that it is chalk country all round there, and the
butterflies keep to it--fritillaries and skippers and browns; and we
can find some grass snakes there."

"Don't like snakes," said Ralph decisively, thinking of the terrible
species which he had known in his younger days--snakes whose bite
means certain death. "Well, I don't mind coming. Will you go, Fred?"
And he turned to Charlton, who nodded his assent.

"That is all right, then," answered Warren. "I will be over for you
just after one, and we can pick up Charlton on our way and---- Hallo!
what is the row?"

The three lads turned. A scrimmage of some kind was evidently in
progress at the other side of the playground, for there came some hoots
and groans, and, mingling with the noise, a shrill cry of pain.

"You great coward, let go my arm!"

"Dobson and Co.," muttered Warren; and the three darted across to the
scene of the trouble; and there they found Tinkle and Green, standing
defiant and somewhat tearful, confronted by Dobson, Elgert and some of
their cronies, while a scattered crowd of angry juniors kept in the
safe background, hurling taunting jeers at the bigger boys.

"I will half kill you, you cheeky little beggar!" they heard Dobson say
to Tinkle. He had got hold of his arm, and, according to his favourite
fashion, was twisting it painfully. "I will teach you to cheek me! I
suppose it is that beggar Rexworth who has taught you to do it."

But then Dobson stopped. He had thought that Ralph was gone; and even
as he spoke, he caught sight of him. It certainly was very awkward for
Dobson, and before he knew what to say next, Ralph had quietly but
firmly removed Tinkle from his grasp.

"You suppose wrong, Dobson," he said calmly. "I should not encourage
any junior to cheek a senior; but I won't see a junior bullied, and you
will please let that youngster go."

"I didn't cheek him!" cried Tinkle--"leastways, not until he kicked me.
I was standing here talking to Jimmy Green, when he and Elgert came up;
and Elgert shied a stone at Green's head, and Dobson kicked me--the
great coward! Let him stand up fair, and I will fight him myself."

"Oh, no, you won't, sonny!" laughed Tom Warren. "You will clear off,
and get home at once. No fight if you please."

"It seems to me," sneered Elgert, "that this school is to be run by
Rexworth and Co. You look here, Warren. It is out of school hours;
and if you think that we are all going to stand being ruled by you
especially when you are under the thumb of such a fellow as that--well,
all I have to say is that you are jolly well mistaken."

"I mean to say," was Warren's calm reply, "that there is not going to
be any fighting here; and I mean to say that we have the Head's own
orders to stop any more bullying of juniors. There has been a great
deal too much of it in the past."

"And if we don't obey, you will run sneaking to the Head?"

"Oh, no, I won't," came the answer. "I will give you a jolly good
licking myself. If it has got to come, let us get it over. Here are I
and Rexworth--Charlton don't count. If you want to see which side is
the best, just you----"

"Just you all clear off; and you, Warren, don't make an ass of
yourself," said a pleasant voice; and Kesterway, the head monitor of
the school, appeared upon the scene. "Off you go, now! And you look
here, Elgert. You may be an honourable, and a lord's son, but that is
no reason why you should behave like a prig. You keep a civil tongue in
your head, or you may get into trouble."

Elgert and his companions turned away, for it did not do to defy the
authority of Kesterway; but he muttered as he went--

"Only wait a little while. I will get some of my own back. If I don't
make Ralph Rexworth suffer for it, I will know the reason why."

But two youthful individuals, as they also walked away--Tinkle and
Green to wit--discussed darkly the chances of getting equal with Dobson
and Elgert.

"I vote we tell about that note," said Tinkle; but Green shook his head.

"What is the good? Suppose they denied it, how could we prove it? You
bet, there would be no chance of old Brown owning up. And besides,
wouldn't it be telling that we had broken bounds? No; we had best wait
a while, Tinkle, and presently the chance will come."

"S'pose we sent 'em a what-you-call-it letter?"

"What is that?" demanded Green; and Tinkle answered lucidly--

"You know. One of them sort that don't come from nowhere, and is writ
by nobody."

"Annie nonimus," was Green's suggestion; and Tinkle nodded.

"Yes, that's him. We might do that; and write on it, 'Who stole the
five-pound note?' or 'What price Brown's cake shop?' or something."

"We'd best do nothing of the kind," was Green's crushing answer. "That
wouldn't do no good, and it would make 'em think that something was
known. No, Tinkle; you leave 'em alone; and presently they will make a
slip, and then we can have 'em."

"I'd like to help Rexworth, though," murmured Tinkle.

"But he don't want no help now. He's cleared about the note. No one
thinks that he took it, not for a moment. It wouldn't help Rexworth.
The thing is dropped, and we'd best leave it alone for the time."

Meanwhile, Ralph and his friends took their way homeward, ignorant
alike of the threats of their foes or the good wishes of the juniors;
and after lunch was over, Warren in accordance with his promise, called
for Ralph.

"Hallo! got a new gardener here?" he remarked, as he caught sight of an
old man who was sweeping the path; and Ralph thought how little Warren
guessed who that man really was.

They set off in high spirits, and after calling for Charlton, they
started upon their long ramble. They rattled on at a good pace, and got
away to the hills, and then--it was most provoking--great dark clouds
had been rolling up, and suddenly, with a roar of thunder and a blaze
of lightning, the storm burst, and it rained--gracious, how it did rain!

It is not pleasant to be caught in a violent shower at the best of
times, but to be caught when you are away from all shelter is decidedly
unpleasant.

"Wherever can we shelter?" cried Charlton in dismay, as the three
bolted along, with heads bent down and collars turned up. "This is
cheerful!"

"I say," suddenly suggested Warren, "there is a thick preserve over
by the road; I noticed it as we came along. Of course, it will be
trespassing and we might get into trouble, but I suggest making for it.
We can get some sort of shelter under the trees, and we may stumble
upon a shooting hut or a keeper's cottage, and if we explain why we
have come, they surely will not mind."

"Cannot help it if they do," said Ralph desperately. "We cannot go on
in this, and it's five miles into Stow, if it's a yard. Show us the way
Warren, and be quick about it."

With a whoop and a yell, off scudded Warren, the other two close in
his rear, while the thunder growled and grumbled and the lightning
flickered, and the sky grew so black that things promised to get worse
instead of better.

They struck the path for which Warren was making; and there, sure
enough, a little farther along, divided from the road by a meadow and a
stout gate, the tall trees of a dark covert waved to and fro. It might
not mean much shelter, but it would mean some, and with a scramble they
were over that gate.

"This is better," panted Warren. "It is some sort of a screen. I am
jolly well drenched!"

"I wish that I could get a cup of warm cocoa or tea," shivered
Charlton. "I got hot running, and now it strikes horribly cold."

"Let's push on a bit," suggested Ralph. "We are trespassing, and we
may as well be hanged for a sheep as for a lamb. Perhaps we shall find
shelter somewhere. Come on, you two, and keep to these open paths. If
you get right into that undergrowth, you may do some damage--disturb
some nests, or something."

"Right you are, Ralph. I don't think it is much good, though; there
seems no sign of life here."

"I will soon see if there is." Ralph paused as he spoke. He put his
hand to his mouth and gave a ringing call--one he had learnt from the
Indians on the plains. "If any one is about, they will hear that; and,
at any rate, they cannot say that we are trying to hide from----"

He stopped and started back, turning as white as death; for from
somewhere, ringing through the silences of that preserve, there came a
sound, muffled, but clear. It was Ralph's call repeated!

What wonder that he trembled. What wonder that he looked so white.
There was but one other person whom he knew who would answer that call
in that way; and that one person was his own father!

CHAPTER XXIII

THE RUIN AND THE LONELY HOUSE

Just that one cry, ringing wild and plaintive through the wood; and
then silence, broken by a loud, angry rumble of thunder.

Ralph stood there trembling, too agitated to speak; and his two chums
turned anxiously towards him, bewildered at the change which had come
over him.

"Ralph, old fellow, why, whatever is it? What has come to you?" they
asked; and he replied in hoarse, trembling tones--

"That call! Did you not hear it? There is only one person who would
give that, and he is my own father."

For a moment they were staggered by his answer; then Warren said
gently--

"But, Ralph, how can it be your father? It was only the echo, old
fellow."

"It was not the echo. It was his voice. Listen--try and hear where it
comes from!" And once again, through the dripping wood, he sent the
Indian cry.

"Now, listen--listen!" he said; and they waited, but no sound came in
answer--nothing but the shiver of the trees, the patter of the rain,
and the distant growling of the storm.

"There, you see. It must have been the echo!" said Warren; but Ralph
shook his head.

"Do not be silly, Warren. If it was the echo it would be heard again;
but we heard nothing."

Which direction did it come from? They forgot about the wet and the
storm; they forgot everything in the excitement of the moment. Which
direction had the cry come from?

Warren declared that it sounded as if it was under ground; Charlton
said he fancied that it came from high up, as if some one was in the
air; and Ralph fancied that it was straight ahead.

"What shall we do?" was the question of Warren and Ralph answered--

"I am going forward. I mean to search this plantation from end to end,
if I am trespassing twenty times over."

So on the three went, and again and again did they pause while Ralph
uttered his wild call, but no answer was heard.

They pushed on, their hearts full of excitement, until they emerged
from the trees with almost startling suddenness. The plantation was
nothing like so thick as they had thought--it was a mere belt of wood,
surrounding a neglected lawn; and in the centre of this, encircled by
a wall, stood the very last thing they would have expected to find
there--a house.

A house; but so dreary, desolate looking. All the windows stared blank
and empty, and were encrusted with dirt and grime. Not a trace of smoke
curled up from the chimney-stack, not a sound of life was heard. It
seemed empty, desolate, drear; and the masses of creeper, hanging down
and swinging in the breath of the storm, only intensified the desolate
picture it made.

The three lads, standing there with every nerve thrilled by a strange,
inexplicable excitement, surveyed the place, and looked at each other
in questioning silence, until Warren said softly--

"Well, I am blest! Who would have thought of finding a house here?"

"Where are you going, Ralph?" cried Charlton, for Ralph was moving
forward; and he replied firmly--

"To that house. I mean to see if any one lives here."

Right up to the wall walked Ralph. It was a high wall, and only the
upper part of the house could be seen above it. But they found a gate
on the other side; and, without a moment's hesitation, Ralph pushed
it open, entered the garden, and, walking up to the door, lifted the
knocker.

With what a dull, hollow sound did it fall! A ghostly sound, that
echoed through the house, with that peculiar vibration which is heard
when a place is empty.

"There is no one here," whispered Warren, after a pause--somehow they
found themselves speaking in whispers. "The house is empty."

Ralph, for answer, knocked again, a louder and longer summons.
"Listen!" he said; and from somewhere they heard a faint sound, as of a
door being shut.

"It's only the wind, making a door slam," was Warren's comment. But,
for the third time, Ralph sent his call resounding--there was no
mistake about that knock--if any one was in the place they must hear
it, for the door fairly creaked beneath the blows.

Another pause, a shuffling noise from within, the sound of some one
coming from distant passages, then the unfastening of bolts and chains,
and the door was opened a little space, while a man, big, burly, and
brutal looking, filled the doorway, and barred their entrance--an
altogether evil-looking, cruel-faced man, who, scowling upon the three
lads, demanded in gruff tones what they wanted, and how it was they
were here.

Just for the moment the three were taken aback; or, brave as they might
be, still they were only lads, and that scowling presence was certainly
very ominous. But Ralph plucked up his courage, and answered that
they were three lads from the distant school, and that they had been
overtaken by the storm and were seeking shelter.

The man had stood glaring from one to the other as the explanation was
given; and then he said, in the gruffest of accents--

"Well, and what is all this to me? That is no reason why you should
trespass on my land, and come knocking at my door. I don't want to know
that you are getting wet. It's no interest of mine, is it?"

"But we are seeking for shelter," persisted Ralph. "Surely you will not
refuse to give that to us?" And he made a slight attempt to push his
way in. The man gave him a shove that sent him almost off the step.

"Here, none of that sort of thing," he said, "or you will be sorry for
it, my young bantam. You don't think that you can shove your way into
my premises. You three just take yourselves off. You are trespassing on
my ground; and it's lucky for you that the dog is tied up, or he would
tear you limb from limb. Hear him!" And he paused, as a deep, distant
baying was heard from somewhere within. "He is a beauty big enough to
eat you. You just get off as fast as you can. Clear! If you are here in
five minutes time I will set the dog on you!" And he slammed the door,
and left them standing there.

"What a particularly unpleasant person!" said Warren. "His politeness
is only exceeded by his good looks. Come on, Ralph, it won't do any
good to stand here; and I don't fancy a meeting with that loud-voiced
brute we heard. He had got a bark like a bloodhound."

"We had better do as Warren says," added Charlton, a trifle timidly,
for he could understand how badly Ralph must feel. "I know what you are
thinking of. You want to see inside that house, but it is impossible
now. If it is done at all, it would have to be some other time, when
that man did not suspect us. Only I don't think that you are right. I
don't see how you can be."

"I shall never rest until I have contrived some way of doing as you
say," was Ralph's reply, and his face looked very resolute again. "That
cry was raised by my father. He may not be there--I do not say he
is, but somehow I dislike that man and distrust him. Let us go right
through the grounds. Don't you understand, Warren? I want to see if
there are any other places hidden away here. Who would have said a
house like that was here; and who can say what other house may be here?
You go back if you like, you and Charlton; I am going on."

"Then on we all go," was Warren's reply; and he and Charlton
accompanied Ralph.

They crossed the lawn and went out by the gate, and Ralph was conscious
of the face of that man peering at them through one of the upper
windows. He might be a recluse, a miser, a madman--that seemed the most
probable thing; and yet, yet somehow Ralph must get inside that house.

They pushed their way on into the wood again, making for the opposite
side to that on which they had entered; and then Ralph's words that
they did not know what else they might find were proved to be very
true, for, upon its farther side, bordering upon a stretch of wild
open land, they came upon a ruined building. It looked as if at one
time it had been a chapel, or monastery, or something of that sort;
the pillars, the pointed windows, and the arched doors gave them that
impression. It was a fairly large building, larger than the house they
had left, and its crumbling walls were thickly overgrown with ivy. A
mournful, silent ruin it was, where only the shapes and shadows of
those whose feet had once trodden its stone floors now seemed to lurk;
but it was a shelter, and in Ralph went.

"I don't care for twenty men and dogs," he said resolutely. "I am not
going on in this rain, and I am going to have a look in this ruin."

"But you do not think that you will find any trace of your father
there, Ralph," protested Warren.

"I don't, old man; I only hope for shelter. Come on. If the worst comes
we will get on the stairs and drive off the dog with stones. Come on."

It looked gloomy outside--it looked more gloomy within, as they passed
in through the yawning space where once a stout oak door had been. How
their footsteps echoed, and how great piles of damp, decaying leaves
lay in the corners, and ugly lizards scuttled away as they went on.
But, for all that, after the first disinclination was got over, there
was something very exciting in wandering about the ruin, exploring
this way and that, going down into dark, oozy places underground, or
clambering up into the old, deserted turret above, at the no small risk
of breaking one's neck. They wandered here and there, until at last a
single ray of sunlight, falling through a broken casement, awoke them
to the fact that the storm was over, and that they could get on their
way again.

"We had better go, Ralph," said Charlton. "I must, for think how mother
will feel if I am not home when she expects me."

"Well, I don't think it is much good staying," Warren added. "It seems
impossible that your father should be about here, Ralph. That sound was
an echo."

"I suppose it must have been something of that sort," Ralph admitted
reluctantly. "There seems to be no other explanation. You must forgive
me for seeming stupid; but, you see, it--it is my father!" He stopped
and Charlton pressed his hand sympathetically, while Warren said
hastily--

"Oh, of course, old fellow, I understand; and I only wish that we could
have found something out. What a stunning place this ruin would be for
hiding in! You could play hide-and-seek about it for a week!"

They emerged from the place, and speedily were in the public road again
and walking, with their faces in a homeward direction. But as they went
Ralph turned, and once again he uttered that wild signal cry; and then,
then--was it an echo, or was it indeed a human voice?--after a pause,
faint and low the sound came back once more--whether from earth, or
from air, they knew not; but the cry was taken up and repeated note for
note.

CHAPTER XXIV

FOR THE SAKE OF REVENGE

Now, on that very afternoon when Ralph and his two friends, on their
visit to Crab Tree Hill, were driven by the storm to seek shelter in
that preserve, Horace Elgert and his companion Dobson, were standing in
close consultation.

And a very discontented, savage, and disconcerted pair they were, for
things did not seem to be going right with them.

In the first place, that miserable five-pound note was still missing,
and though the man at the cake-shop had promised that he would get it
for them if possible, he had not yet kept his word; and while it was
still in other hands both boys trembled with apprehensive fears.

They quarrelled over it, too, Elgert still declaring that, as Dobson
had changed it, he would alone be to blame, and Dobson retorting by
saying that he would confess that he received it from Elgert.

Then, added to this source of annoyance, there was the fact that,
in spite of all their efforts, Ralph Rexworth was rising in his
schoolmates' esteem, and his influence, coupled with that of Warren
and Charlton, was making itself steadily felt, to the diminution of
their own powers.

"It seems to me," grumbled Elgert moodily, "that the fellows look
upon trying to give a criminal up to justice as a crime. Some of them
actually hissed at me--and why? Just because my father lent the police
his pony and trap! I can't make out what is coming to them."

"They are just as down on me in the Fourth," answered Dobson. "There is
no fun in the place now. All the kids have got to be coddled like a lot
of babies; and if you catch one of them a smack on the head for being
cheeky, there are a dozen fellows ready to take his part. Look how that
little beggar Green cheeked me."

"Well, why didn't you give him a hiding? You were afraid to, that is
the fact."

"Afraid yourself!" retorted Dobson angrily. "As if I should be afraid
of him! You know that if I had done anything I should have had Rexworth
and all his set about me, and a fellow can't take the lot of them. You
don't care to meet Rexworth yourself, and you know it."

A dark frown gathered upon Horace Elgert's handsome face. Ah, how that
frown spoilt all his good looks!

"Perhaps I don't, Dobson," he said grimly. "But there are better ways
of getting even with Rexworth than fighting; and I mean to try them
all. Have you seen Brown again?"

"Yes," said Dobson.

And Elgert went on--

"Well, what did he say?"

"Only just what he has said all along. He has not been able to get it
yet, but he thinks that he will. I tell you, Elgert, that I believe he
is playing with us----"

"What do you mean?" cried Elgert sharply. "How playing with us?"

"Well, he either knows more than he pretends to, or else he suspects
something. I don't think that he means to let us have that note."

Horace Elgert was silent for a few moments. Evidently he found that
statement very disquieting.

"It will be a nice mess if it is like that," he said at last. "But it
is no good worrying over it unless it comes. I will go and see him
myself. You are a bit of a messer when it comes to doing anything. You
don't seem to use your wits----"

"Can't use my wits to make him give me a thing which he has either not
got or don't mean to part with," grumbled Dobson.

"You might have used your wits to make sure that he never got it. I did
all the dangerous part of the work, and only left you something which
was safe and easy, and you went and bungled it!"

"Oh, don't begin that all over again. I am sick and tired of hearing
of it. Whenever you have nothing else to grumble about you bring that
up. Just drop it, or don't talk at all!"

Elgert saw that his companion was getting really cross; and though he
despised Dobson at heart, he could not afford to quarrel with him, for
the boy knew too much of his evil ways; so he affected to laugh at the
angry words.

"Don't lose your temper," he said. "I never came near such a surly
chap! A fellow can't speak to you without your taking offence."

"Well, then, drop it. I don't like having things thrown in my face like
you throw that. It is done, and it can't be undone, so what is the good
of talking of it?"

"You will find there will be some talking about it if ever it comes to
light," was the grim answer. And Dobson looked miserable. How he wished
now that he had never had anything to do with the wretched business.

"I wonder," mused Elgert, "what became of that fellow Charlton?"

"We'd best let that alone," retorted Dobson. "We have got ourselves
disliked quite enough over it."

"What do I care for that? If only I knew where he was, do you think
that I would hesitate to tell? I would do it, if it was only to spite
Rexworth."

"It would not hurt him," answered Dobson. "It is not his father."

"No, but it is his chum's, and he would be sure to feel it. I only wish
I knew where he was."

"But you don't," remarked Dobson.

"But I might find out. I only wish that I could!"

"Talk of angels and see their wings," said Dobson; and at this
apparently vague proverb Elgert turned excitedly.

"Where? What do you mean? Not the man?"

"No," answered Dobson, with a shake of the head.

"I don't see Rexworth or Charlton." And Elgert stared round. "Bother
it! Don't stand grinning there like a monkey. Tell me what you mean."

"Only that there goes Charlton's mother," said Dobson, nodding in the
direction of the common.

"Well, what of that? We don't want his mother, do we? It is his father
we are talking about."

"I know that," came the calm answer. And Dobson looked very knowing. "I
am a monkey and a silly, and I don't know what besides, but I may be
able to think smarter than you can, Elgert. May not Charlton's mother
lead us to Charlton's father? She is sure to know where he is, and do
you know that since that affair she has been going to the St. Clives' a
lot----"

"How do you know?" demanded Elgert.

"My sister told me that she has seen her go there frequently; and
sometimes, instead of going right in at the front gate she has gone in
at the side one. That looks strange, don't it? And she was not visiting
there before--I know that."

Elgert pondered a while in silence, then he suddenly turned, and Dobson
inquired where he was going.

"To follow her. There may be something in what you say. I should hardly
think that they would hide a convict away, but they might--some people
do such strange things--and St. Clive don't like my father, I know. Let
us follow her."

"Well, it will only be to St. Clive's place. And what are we to do
then? We can't say that she goes to see her husband because she goes
there."

"What did you tell me about it for, then? You looked knowing enough.
It is not much good talking of a thing if we cannot follow it up. I am
going after her, at any rate. You need not come if you don't want to."

"Oh, I will come, Disagreeable!" answered Dobson. And the two boys set
out, following the lady, who was quite unconscious of their wicked
desires.

And they could follow her openly and without fear, for if she had seen
them close by her side she would have thought nothing of it. The boys
from the school were common enough objects in the place.

And it chanced that Mrs. Charlton was indeed going to see her poor
husband; to try and cheer him, and urge him to be hopeful and patient,
and to tell him that presently the clouds would all vanish, and the sun
shine out again.

And after her the two boys went like spies, and neither Elgert nor
Dobson thought what a wicked thing they were doing. There was with
them the love of doing evil and causing sorrow--the delight of little,
spiteful natures--but there was also the greater desire to cause Ralph
Rexworth pain. That was before everything, and so on they went. And
Mrs. Charlton, all unconscious of evil, entered the grounds of Mr. St.
Clive's house, and as Dobson had said, she went in at the side gate.

Mr. St. Clive had arranged that with her, so that she could go directly
to her husband's cottage without any of the servants in the house
knowing that she was there.

And the boys stood at that gate undecided for a little while. The path
was soon lost to view amidst the bushes. Elgert looked round, and then
deliberately climbed over the gate.

"You can stay or come," he whispered to Dobson; "I mean to go on and
see this through." And Dobson, not without some inward fears, followed
his example. It was delightful, this tracking a man down; it was like
the stories of adventure, and he wanted to see the end of it.

"Come quietly," directed Elgert in suppressed tones. "Don't make a
noise with your feet, and stoop down; they might see your head over
the bushes. That is it. Now follow me."

Creeping along stealthily, Dobson in the rear, he followed the
direction which Mrs. Charlton had taken, and presently the shrubberies
ended, and there were flower beds and lawns. Clearly, it would be
dangerous for them to go any farther if they wished to remain unseen.

"We will stop here and watch," said he to Dobson. And the latter,
crouching there, whispered--

"Where has she gone? I don't see her anywhere."

"She must have gone into that cottage. I would creep across and try to
peep through the window, but I am afraid that I should be discovered;
and if we gave them the alarm, he might be off."

"You don't think that the man is hiding there, do you?" queried Dobson,
trembling betwixt fear and excitement.

Truth to tell, when he had made his suggestion, it had been merely from
the love of talking; he had not thought really that there was anything
in it; and now there seemed to be a very great deal.

"I do think it," Elgert answered. "Hush! Let us watch. No one knows
that we are here, and no one can see us. We can easily creep out the
same way that we came. Keep still, she is coming out of the cottage!"

Yes, Mrs. Charlton was coming out, and with her a poor, bent decrepit
old gardener. But--but she held his arm, and once she pressed a kiss on
his cheek! Horace Elgert felt his heart thrill with evil triumph. He
saw it all now. Mr. St. Clive was keeping the man here, in the position
of a gardener, and Mrs. Charlton came to see him!

"We have got him now, Dobson," he whispered to his companion. "We have
got him now, and he will not get away from the police a second time! It
is the first step to paying Ralph Rexworth what we owe him!"

[Illustration: "'WE HAVE GOT HIM NOW, DOBSON,' HE WHISPERED TO HIS
COMPANION." p. 230.]

CHAPTER XXV

JUST IN TIME

"What shall we do next, Elgert?"

Dobson whispered that question in his ear, as the two crouched in the
shrubbery watching Mrs. Charlton and her husband.

"Do! What a question! Get away from here, and then go straight to the
police and give them information. They won't mention our names, and the
fellows at the school need never know that we have had any part in it.
We have seen enough, so come on, and mind you don't let them either see
or hear you. I would not have them alarmed for anything."

The two stole silently off, treading on tiptoe, walking with the
greatest care, until once more they climbed over the gate, and stood
safely in the roadway.

"Thank goodness we are out of that without any trouble," said Dobson;
and Elgert inquired, contemptuously, what danger he feared would come
to them in the grounds.

"Dogs," retorted Dobson tersely. "We weren't to know that there were no
dogs loose. I thought that I heard a rustling in the bushes once, as
though one was pushing his way towards us, and it made me turn cold.
Well, now we are here, what next?"

"The police, at once. How dark it is getting, and was not that thunder?"

"Yes, I reckon they are getting a smart storm not far from here. The
police-station, is it?"

"Of course. The man is here, we do not know how long he may remain,
so we cannot waste time; and I am not going to let the possibility
of getting caught in a shower prevent me from having my revenge on
Rexworth, and making things unpleasant for these stuck-up St. Clives.
I hate them! St. Clive himself, because he backs this Rexworth up; his
wife, because she is so very goody-goody; and the girl, because she is
a proud little minx, who turns up her nose at me, and----"

"Ha, ha!" laughed Dobson. "Jealous because Rexworth cut you out, that
is it! Well, I don't mind. Come on, if you are coming. The police will
be pleased enough to know; and if there is a reward, we may as well
have it."

"You can take it, if you like," retorted Elgert. "I don't want their
money. All I want is to see the man taken again, and taken there to
prove that the St. Clives are in it."

They turned and hurried off; and then, very cautiously, from amidst
the laurels, there arose a little scared and indignant face--a face
surrounded by golden hair. Irene St. Clive had seen them and heard all
that they had said!

She had seen them go into the shrubbery, and had wondered what tricks
they were about to play. Her first idea was that it was something to do
with Ralph, something to vex him; for she knew both the boys, and was
aware that they were his enemies. So she had followed them, that she
might see, and then warn Ralph. And then it had flashed upon her! Mrs.
Charlton was there with her husband; and the boys were spying upon her.
Oh, what mean, miserable boys to call themselves gentlemen, and do such
things!

She heard what they said when they stood in the roadway, and then she
turned and raced indoors to tell her father; even in her dismay, she
was thoughtful enough not to go to her mother first, lest she should be
needlessly alarmed. Her father would know best what was to be done.

And her tidings filled Mr. St. Clive with concern. Where could poor Mr.
Charlton go? Where else was there for him to hide?

He reproached himself now that he had not sent him away sooner. But Mr.
Charlton had seemed to derive such comfort from being able to see his
son and wife frequently, that Mr. St. Clive had allowed things to go on
as they were, and now it might be too late!

Yes, even with Irene's warning, too late; for the man could not go out
just as he was. Mr. St. Clive knew full well that every hiding-place
would be searched--that escape would be almost impossible--and he
shrank from being the bearer of such bad tidings to the husband and
wife.

But it had to be done, the warning must be given, and given at once,
and he rose, Irene following him, and went into the grounds and towards
the cottage. His own wife was there at the moment speaking with Mrs.
Charlton.

And the dismay, the sorrow, that they exhibited when the tidings were
told! The poor man must fly from here and be a wanderer again--hunted
hither and thither, not knowing from hour to hour if he should be
captured, not able even to get a message to his wife, or to hear how it
fared with her and his son. It was very hard indeed.

"You have done all that one man could to help another, sir," he said to
Mr. St. Clive, as he held his weeping wife in his arms. "I shall never,
never forget your kindness, nor that of your good wife and dear little
daughter. You will be a friend to my poor wife and my boy--I feel sure
that you will be--and now I must change this disguise, and go. To go
as the old gardener might be more dangerous than to go as the escaped
prisoner."

"But where can you go? Where can you hide for the time? If you could
only find a place, the police might come to the conclusion that the
boys had made a mistake, and abandon the search again, so giving you
opportunity of getting out of England. So far as money can aid, you
can count upon me, but money will be of no avail, if you cannot elude
your pursuers, and----"

A hurrying of feet! Oh, surely the police could not be there already!
No; a well-known shrill whistle! Ralph and his chums were coming, and
Ralph must be told.

Now, Warren knew nothing about Charlton's father being there, and the
two boys had allowed their chum to come in because there was no danger;
he would only think that it was an old gardener at work.

But when they saw Mr. St. Clive and all the others in that little
cottage, they stopped, and Charlton faltered out--

"What is it? Oh, what is it, father?" And so he gave away his secret to
the monitor.

And they told them, and Charlton stood very white, and clenched his
fist.

"Elgert again," he said. "Oh, I hate him! I should like to kill him."
But his father put his hand on his arm and said, almost sternly--

"My son, such words are not for the lips of a Christian boy."

"Well, sir, at any rate you can't blame Fred for using them," broke in
Warren. "I know I should feel like it. They are a pair of cads, and
deserve kicking."

"Be quiet, Tom," chimed in Ralph. "Never mind them. The thing is what
can we do? Where can Mr. Charlton go so that he can hide in safety for
the time?"

"Nowhere," said the man sadly. "There is no spot about here where I can
be safe. I am afraid that I am losing heart," he added, "but it seems
hopeless."

"Never say, die, sir," cried Warren. "I know a place, a jolly place,
where you could hide for a month; yes, even if they knew you were there
they would not be able to get you. You could dodge them, and dodge
them, for ever so long----"

"The ruin!" cried Ralph suddenly. "Warren, you're a brick! The ruin, of
course----"

"What ruin? Where?" asked Mr. St. Clive, while the rest listened
anxiously. "Speak quickly, lads, for time is precious." And Ralph
explained their adventure of that afternoon, adding--

"Of course, there are the dogs, but even if they scented him down he
could shut them out; they couldn't get at him, and the very fact that
the dogs were loose would hinder people from imagining that any one was
hiding there. Besides, I don't believe that any people know about it. I
didn't until to-day, and I thought that I had pretty well explored the
country round here."

"How am I to get to this place, boys?"

"By following us," said Ralph. "Yes, we will all three go, and skirmish
out one ahead of the other, so that if danger is about we can give
warning. Never you fear, we will get there safe enough, if we have a
little start. But you will want things, even at once; light--you must
be careful to hide that from being seen--and food, and some rugs."

Away hurried Mrs. St. Clive and her husband and hastily procured what
they thought would be immediate necessities, while Mr. Charlton took
off the disguise. His rest there had done him good. He was strong and
well, not a bit like the wearied man who had at first come there. The
boys divided the burdens between them; and then, with last hand shakes,
and with a parting embrace between husband and wife, Mr. Charlton
followed the three boys from the place where he had been so kindly
treated.

"Won't Elgert and Dobson be precious mad!" said Warren. "It was
fortunate for you, sir, that little Irene heard them talking."

"It is fortunate for me that my boy has two such faithful friends
as you and Ralph here," answered Mr. Charlton. "I feel that Heaven,
knowing my innocence, has raised me up helpers all round."

"That is the way, sir," said Ralph heartily. "Go on thinking that and
you won't lose heart, and presently the truth will come to light----"

"Now then, Ralph," cried Warren, interrupting him. "Send on ahead, and
keep both your eyes open, get well on in front, and give the Fourth's
whistle if you see any one about."

They were now getting away from the road and on towards Stow Wood. They
would have to go through that and then out across the common, leaving
Great Stow on their right. It would have been shorter to have gone
through Great Stow, but they did not dare that, there were too many
people about.

Away raced Charlton, pushing into the wood, and then Warren dived away
to the right, and Ralph led Mr. Charlton directly on.

But no warning whistle came. The storm was gathering up again, and no
one who could avoid it was out of doors. They pushed through the wood
and across the common, out to Crab Tree Hill; and then they circled
the preserves, and came to the place they sought; and, as Ralph said,
it looked as if they had been led to the spot that afternoon, in order
that they might know where to bring Mr. Charlton.

And into the ruin they led the way with a lighted candle, and showed
the man all the windings and secret ways that they had found out.

"I dare say that there are plenty more, for it is a strange old place,"
Ralph said, "and you will be able to find them out for yourself."

"The only thing that I see, is you cannot make a fire here. At least,
if you did, the smoke might be seen," added Warren; and Mr. Charlton
smiled.

"We can do without the fire, my kind young friend," he said. "I shall
manage here very well. But now do you all go, for you are nearly wet
through, and I fear that you may suffer some ill effects, and you all
look tired to death, too. Shake hands with me, and be off."

"We shall manage to let you know soon, sir, how things go," said Ralph,
"and we will bring more food and things. Good-bye, sir, and keep up a
good heart."

"Good-bye, and good-bye and God bless you, my own dear son." And the
father and son embraced.

Then the three lads dashed away, making for home as fast as they could;
and though Warren wondered what his people would think of him for being
so late, nothing could persuade him to refrain from going back to Mr.
St. Clive's, just to see how things had gone.

CHAPTER XXVI

TOM WARREN SPEAKS HIS MIND

If ever three boys were tired and wet and cold, Ralph and his chums
were when they once again arrived at Mr. St. Clive's; but for all
that, they were three delighted boys, for they had succeeded in their
mission, and Mr. Charlton was safe.

They found that the police had been and gone, and were none the wiser
for their visit. Mr. St. Clive had received them readily, and told them
that he certainly had employed an old gardener, but that the man had
left his employ only a short time before they came, and that he could
give them no information about him.

It was highly distasteful to an honourable gentleman like Mr. St.
Clive even to say anything which, while strictly true, had yet the
qualities of a lie, but in this case he was forced to do so. He could
not give the poor man up to justice--a man whom he honestly believed to
have been wrongly convicted--especially after having received him and
sheltered him so long.

But when Elgert and Dobson heard that the search was unsuccessful, oh,
how angry they were! They had come back with the constables, and Mr.
St. Clive turned to them and spoke very sternly.

"So it appears that I am indebted to you two young gentlemen for this
visit," he said. "First of all you trespass upon my grounds; then you
take upon yourselves to give this information to the police; and now
you have come back uninvited. Kindly oblige me by taking yourselves
off; and understand that if I find you on my grounds again, I shall not
have the slightest hesitation in horsewhipping the pair of you!"

Oh, what a rage Elgert was in! To be spoken to like that! He, the
Honourable Horace Elgert!

He went home and told his father, and Lord Elgert rode over in a
terrible passion to demand an explanation from Mr. St. Clive.

But that gentleman took things very calmly, and his lordship got little
satisfaction from him.

"It is my belief, sir, that my son is correct, and that you have been
harbouring a fugitive from justice!" shouted his lordship. "It is like
you to do that. You have taken that young rascal, Rexworth, in spite of
the knowledge that his father is a man who attempted to rob me."

"Pardon me, Lord Elgert," answered Mr. St. Clive, "I have tried to
repay a debt of gratitude I owe to a brave boy, who rescued my child
from death, at the peril of his own life, because you would not take
the trouble to have your bull properly secured. As to the knowledge
that his father tried to rob you, I know nothing of the kind."

"I have told you so. You have my word for it," replied Lord Elgert; and
Mr. St. Clive answered drily--

"That is a very different thing from knowing it."

"You insult me, sir! You deliberately insult me! But be careful, or you
shall answer for it. Make no mistake, you shall answer for it!" And
with that, his lordship rode off in a towering rage.

Mr. St. Clive did not trouble to tell Ralph all the unkind things which
Lord Elgert had said, for there was nothing to be gained by causing the
boy pain; and so, after giving them all hot cocoa, Warren and Charlton
were sent off to their homes, and Ralph was glad to get to bed, for he
was quite tired out.

And then, after one of those quiet Sundays which he had got to value
so much, he set off for school on the Monday morning, calling for
Charlton, and meeting with Warren on the way.

"Well, Rexworth, and how do you feel to-day?"

Now, if Warren or Charlton had asked that question, there would have
been nothing strange in it; but it was neither of the boys. It was Mr.
Delermain, when the class was assembled; and Ralph, although he felt
surprised, answered that he felt very well.

"Ah!" said the master, and he smiled. "Well, I am glad of that, for
to-day you have to uphold the honour of the Fourth. You will not take
your place for lessons as usual. The examination for the Newlet is
to-day. You are to go to the Head's class-room immediately after
prayers."

"Good luck to you, Rexworth," whispered Charlton, looking quite
nervous; and Tom Warren patted him on the shoulder and added
imploringly--

"Now, mind you keep cool, Ralph--keep quite cool. Don't get flustered
if you cannot answer every question, and don't spend too much time over
the easy ones. Answer them first, as briefly as you can, and then go
for the others. Keep cool, old fellow, for the honour of the Fourth."

Certainly Ralph did feel just a trifle anxious and nervous; but he had
worked hard, and felt pretty well grounded in his subjects, and he
meant to do his best honestly.

So when prayers were over, he rose and went out of the class-room,
while the boys, thinking that the occasion admitted of it, cried out
aloud: "Good luck to you, Rexworth! Hope that you will succeed!"

"Jolly lot of fuss they make about that chap," sneered Dobson to the
boy next him. "It is just a disgrace to let such a fellow as that sit
for the Newlet."

"Especially when a bright, intellectual fellow like Dobson does not
go in for it!" was the answer he received; and Dobson glowered and
muttered something about his "cheek."

Somehow, Charlton could not get on as he ought to have done that
morning. He was so anxious about Ralph, and he was so full of his
father, and wondering whether he was all safe. Mr. Delermain had to
rebuke him once or twice--he did not understand things like Warren
did--and poor Charlton lost his place and got a bad mark; and somehow
he could not help it, the tears would come into his eyes. Dobson saw
it, and grinned. He sniffed, and drew his handkerchief out, pretending
to wipe away tears and wring the water out on the floor. Mr. Delermain
saw him, and Dobson got something to cry for. Six handers, and a bad
mark. Dobson vowed to make Charlton suffer for it, as if it were his
fault that he had been caned.

And he had his chance when recess came.

"Hallo, Elgert!" cried Dobson, as he saw his friend. "I say, I want to
ask you a question. Who was the first gardener?"--and he winked towards
Charlton, who was standing near.

"Adam," was Elgert's reply; and Dobson nodded.

"Quite right; and who was the very last one that we know anything
about, eh?"

"A fellow named Charlton, some relation to one of your Form, I think.
Quite a public personage, and eagerly sought after by the police."

Poor Charlton! His face went white, and his eyes sparkled with anger.
Dobson saw it, and laughed mockingly. Charlton was a weakly boy, and
the bully was by no means afraid of him.

"Funny how some people have queer tastes," he went on. "I should have
thought that breaking stones was no harder work than digging. By the
way, it is breaking stones that they put convicts to, is it not?"

"You say that to insult me?"

Charlton spoke in low tones, and his face was very white; and Dobson
laughed again.

"Oh, I say, you chaps, is not this a rich joke? Here is Charlton asking
if we mean to insult him! My dear fellow, your presence is such an
insult----"

Dobson stopped and ducked, for the maddened boy had struck so fierce a
blow that had the bully received it, it would surely have knocked him
down.

"Go on, Dobson! Give him a hiding!" cried Elgert. But then Tom Warren
pushed forward and cried out--

"Drop that! Charlton, don't be stupid; and you, Dobson, if you want to
fight, fight me."

"I say, you fellows," said Elgert, "how much longer are we going to
be dictated to by Tom Warren? Charlton struck the first blow. It is
his fight, and he ought to go through with it. It is a condescension
on Dobson's part to fight with such a fellow." And some of the boys
murmured approval.

"Hold hard a minute," said Warren. "Since Elgert puts it that way, we
will see if the boot is not on the other foot. Let me see, Dobson asked
who was the last gardener, didn't he?"

"That is it, Warren!" cried some of the others. "And Charlton got mad."

"Very well; now I will tell you why. It seems that Elgert and Dobson,
wanting a little employment, and liking to play the part of spies and
informers----" Elgert started. He had no idea that Warren knew about
that, and it was the very last thing he wished the school to hear of.
He attempted to turn away, but Warren noticed it, and went on.

"You had better stop, Elgert, unless you are too ashamed to let
gentlemen see your face." And Elgert stopped, white to the lips with
passion.

"That is better," said the monitor. "Well, you chaps, I was saying that
our gentlemanly friends, Messrs. Elgert and Dobson, finding it to their
taste to play the part of spies, must needs dog the steps of a lady,
and that lady Mrs. Charlton, under the impression that she would guide
them to the spot where her husband was hidden.

"Now, having played this delightful part, these refined young gentlemen
came upon an old gardener in Mr. St. Clive's grounds, and jumped to the
conclusion that it was the lady's husband in disguise.

"Then they came away and quietly enough, for they had no wish to
disturb the parties concerned. But once away, they set off as hard as
they could go, running all the way, to the police-station, to tell the
constables that the man they wanted was hiding at Mr. St. Clive's.
I would mention the fact that there is a reward offered for the
apprehension of this man; perhaps that had something to do with their
action. And this pair of spies and informers have the impudence to
speak of it being a condescension for one of them to fight a boy in no
way his equal."

"I say, Warren, it can't be true!" cried one boy in disgust. "No fellow
at our school would be such an awful cad!"

"Look at Elgert's face. Does that look like innocence?" answered
Warren. "You can ask Mr. St. Clive, if you like; but you ought not to
want to after that!" And he pointed to Horace Elgert.

Ay, there was no mistake; he looked guilty, and he knew it was no good
trying to deny the charge. He strove to look careless and dignified,
and he turned away on his heel; but then a storm of hisses broke out.
Hisses! They were hissing him! And he had once been their leader! And
above the clamour came the shrill voices of the juniors--

"Sneak! Sneak! Sneak!"

He felt as if he must press his fingers in his ears and run, but he
managed to maintain his slow walk, and got into the class-room, Dobson
at his heels; and the latter asked in consternation--

"How ever did they find out?"

"I don't know--I don't care!" was the fierce answer. "But I will pay
them all out! And to think of Rexworth going in for the Newlet!"

"Won't he crow if he manages to get through!" remarked Dobson; and
Elgert jumped up.

"He must not get through, Dobson; somehow we must stop him."

"That is all very well. But how can we do it?" queried Dobson, with a
shake of his head. And Elgert replied--

"Wait until morning school is over, and I will tell you."

CHAPTER XXVII

IN THE DEAD OF THE NIGHT

"I tell you that it can be done. What danger is there, if we are only
careful not to make a noise? What a miserable coward you are, Dobson!"

So said Horace Elgert. He and Dobson were together, and morning school
was over. They had met that Elgert might unfold his plan for preventing
Ralph Rexworth having any chance of gaining the Newlet medal, and
also for getting him into disgrace by making it appear that he had
been cribbing; and apparently Dobson did not much like the plan, and
had been making objections which had called forth Elgert's angry
remonstrance.

"What danger can there be?" The question came again, when Dobson did
not reply. "Why, you have risked more than that when we have left the
house at night! You have thought that a lark. And now we have only to
go to the Head's desk, and then sit in the class-room for an hour or
so."

"It will be awfully cold there," shivered Dobson. "And just
think--stopping for two hours, and the chance all the time that some
one will come!"

"Rubbish! If it is cold, put on your overcoat. You don't call it cold
when you stand for longer than that keeping goal, with an east wind
blowing. It is no use trying to make objections. I am determined to try
it, and you have just got to help me."

"I don't see how we can do it," grumbled Dobson. "I think we had better
leave him alone. After all, it don't matter to us if he gets the medal."

"Everything matters that advances him. Now, look here. After the exam.
is over, all the papers are taken to the Head, and he puts them in his
desk, and sends them to the examiners in the morning. We know that
much."

"Yes," assented Dobson.

"Very well. Now, the catch of the Head's roller desk is broken. I heard
him say yesterday that he had forgotten to send for a man to repair it.
There the papers will be, with nothing to prevent us from getting hold
of Rexworth's. That is easy enough. We wait till the place is quiet,
and then go to the Head's class-room and take what we want. Then we go
to our own class-room, and have our bicycle lamps to give us light. You
know that I can write like Rexworth; and even if I did not, no one will
know. The Head does not examine the papers himself, and the chap he
sends them to would not know the difference, even if you scrawled the
answers."

"But what do you want me for?" objected Dobson. "We can't both write."

"You sneak! You want me to do it all. Why, to keep me company, and
to be in it as well as me. Besides, I shall want you to read me some
answers from Grimwade. I have a copy; and I don't mean only to write
wrong answers to some questions, but to put in extracts, so that it
will look as if he had been using a crib----"

"It will take an awful long time! He takes all day over the papers."

"Yes; but he has got to think of the answers, and we shall not have to
do anything of the kind. We can copy a lot of what he has written--you
reading and I writing. Then we just take our set of papers back and put
them with the others, and we destroy his, and who is to know a thing
about it?"

"I don't like it," protested Dobson. "I know that we shall get caught
one of these days, and then we shall be expelled, and it will be all
your fault."

"Then you have just got to like it!" retorted Elgert; and Dobson burst
out furiously--

"Oh, have I? Think I am going to be ordered about by you, Horace
Elgert! Why have I got to like it, pray?"

"Because you changed that five-pound note!"

"But you gave it to me," retorted Dobson, changing colour, and falling
back upon his old plea; and Elgert laughed.

"You prove that, if you can. You are the only one implicated in it."

"You are a jolly mean sneak!" cried his companion; and again Elgert
laughed, this time rather menacingly.

"I wouldn't talk in that way if I were you, Dobson," he said. "It is a
bit foolish to quarrel with me. Now, don't be silly, but say that you
agree."

"I suppose I must," was the sulky reply; "but I tell you I think it
risky. Besides, all that we have yet done has not harmed Rexworth; but
it has jolly well hurt us."

"We will be more successful this time. But let us clear off, for that
little sneak Charlton is watching us, and he may get suspicious if he
sees us talking together."

"Punch his head!" said Dobson. He was brave enough when it came to
ill-treating boys weaker than himself. "He is alone; punch his head!"

"No. You forget we should have Warren and all his gang down on us, and
perhaps Kesterway taking the matter to the Head. Let him go for the
time. We will have him over his father yet, and that will be better
than giving him a licking."

It was quite true that Charlton had seen the two together, and he was
indeed wondering what mischief they were plotting. Ralph was still a
prisoner over his examination papers, for until they were done he was
not allowed to leave the class-room; and Warren was at the moment
away, so that Charlton was alone.

He was very anxious for Ralph's success, and perhaps that very anxiety
made him suspicious of the two boys who were such bitter enemies of his
chum. At any rate, Charlton determined to keep a very sharp eye upon
the movements of Elgert and Dobson, though he was quite ignorant of any
way in which they could harm Ralph.

But, in spite of his watching, nothing occurred. The dinner-hour
passed and afternoon school began, and all went smoothly; and Charlton
managed to retrieve the loss which his anxiety had brought to him in
the morning. And then, when the bell rang, and the boys filed out, free
to do as they liked, until teatime, there Ralph joined them, a trifle
tired, it is true, but very hopeful, for he felt confident that he had
answered every question that had been given to him without making a
huge number of mistakes.

A general rush of Fourth Form boys occurred, and he was surrounded by a
throng of eager questioners.

"How did you get on, Rexworth? Was it very stiff? Could you manage it?
How many questions did you get through?"

These and a score of kindred questions were asked; and when Ralph
answered that he thought he had managed all right, and that he had
answered every question, a hearty cheer followed.

"Hurrah for Rexworth and the Fourth!"

Dobson and Elgert heard it, and the latter laughed quietly, and said,
with a sneer upon his handsome face--

"Go on; cheer away. You will have something to cheer for presently."

The evening wore away--tea, and preparation, and recess, and finally
bed; and after the usual chatter and skylarking when monitors' backs
were turned, the boys of Marlthorpe College were all snugly in bed, the
gas had been turned out in the dormitories, save for one faint glimmer
at the end of each room, and silence reigned throughout the old school.

Perhaps it was because he was so anxious for Ralph's success, perhaps
it was that he was thinking of Dobson and Elgert, or of his poor
father away there in that dreary ruin, but somehow Charlton could not
get to sleep. He lay there thinking, thinking, long after the regular
breathing from Ralph, and the occasional gurgle and snore from Warren,
announced that his two chums were fast asleep.

Would Ralph get the medal? Would his father ever get safely away? Or,
better still, would he ever be proved to be innocent? Would----

A stealthy movement caused him to open his eyes. A boy, higher up the
dormitory, had got out of bed; and that boy was Dobson!

Charlton held his breath and felt himself trembling with excitement.
Elgert and the bully had plotted something, after all, then;
and--and--why, Dobson was dressing! And now he crept out of the
dormitory with careful, noiseless steps!

Then Charlton, as soon as he was gone, slipped from his bed also. At
first he thought of rousing Ralph and Warren; but he paused. A strange
ambition filled his heart. How lovely it would be to do this all by
himself--to follow and see what mischief they were doing, and, if it
was anything to harm Ralph, to frustrate their plot, alone and unaided!

Rapidly he slipped on his clothes. At any other time he would have
trembled at the audacity of such a deed after hours; but now he was
filled only with the one thought of serving Ralph, and he neither
considered the risk of being discovered, nor the seriousness of
matching himself against two such boys as Elgert and Dobson--for he
felt absolutely certain that Elgert would also be in this business.

Then, in his stockinged feet, he also slipped into the corridor
and stood listening. Where had Dobson gone? How horribly dark it
seemed--and how cold and desolate! He stood undecided for a moment;
then he heard a stealthy sound--and from the entrance to the Fifth he
saw Elgert come. Ah, he had not been mistaken, then! He stepped back
and peeped round the dormitory door. Elgert was stealing down the
stairs, and--yes, there Dobson was awaiting him. The two glided on,
noiseless as mice; and Charlton, his heart thumping so that it seemed
as if the two in front must hear it, creeping cautiously in the rear,
determined to ascertain what they were going to do.

Down, past the Fourth class-room, they groped their way, and then to
the Head's room. The Head's room! The room in which the examination
papers were kept!

Charlton, crouching at the door, watched them as they lit their bicycle
lamps and stole to the big desk at the top of the room. Then came a
slight click and the top was rolled back, and he could see the two
bending over the interior, searching for something.

"Here we are!" whispered Elgert, as he took up a neat little roll of
papers. "Mind your fingers, silly!"--and he let the top of the desk
down with the greatest care. "You see how easy it is."

"Best blow out the lamps until we get to the class-room," suggested
Dobson. "Some one might see them. You never know." And Elgert, willing
enough to take every precaution, complied.

"We will precious soon spoil Rexworth's chances now!" he laughed
softly; and Charlton understood--or thought that he did. They were
going to destroy Ralph's answers, and they should not do it!

Regardless of secrecy or of self, he sprang from the darkness; and,
before either of the startled boys could realize what had happened, he
had snatched that roll of paper from Elgert's grasp.

"You sha'n't have them!" he said aloud. "You want to destroy them, and
you shall not have them!"

"Charlton!" cried Elgert, in furious rage; and forgetful of all
precaution, he struck a savage blow at him, which sent him spinning
backwards over a form with a crash.

"Keep quiet! You will rouse the whole school!" cried Dobson in terror.
"Hark! I hear some one coming. Run--run, I say, or we shall be found
here!" And Elgert, awakening to the danger of the position, glided away
with him, as voices were heard calling and asking what was the matter.

"What shall we do now?" groaned Dobson; but his companion answered in a
fierce whisper--

"Quick--get back to your room and pull off your clothes, as if you had
just slipped out of bed. Be quick! Then come out on to the landing, as
if you were only half awake. They are certain to catch him, and we must
declare that we know nothing of it. He has the papers in his hand, and
it is our word against his, and appearances are upon our side."

Dobson nodded, and hastily dragging off his clothes, he sat on the edge
of his bed, and called aloud: "Who is there?" That roused the others;
and he asserted that he had been scared by a noise downstairs. Up
tumbled Warren and Ralph and some more, and Charlton's bed was seen to
be empty.

Then the Fifth Form boys, aroused by Elgert, came out on the landing,
only to be met by one of the masters, who quietly said that nothing was
wrong, and directed them all to go back to bed again.

Nothing wrong! Go back to bed! But why was Charlton's bed empty? And
what did that glimpse of the boy, in the custody of Kesterway, the head
monitor, mean? Ralph looked at Warren in dismay. Whatever mischief had
Fred Charlton been up to?

CHAPTER XXVIII

THE NEXT DAY

"Believe it! Of course we don't believe it. And I do not think that
the Head does, either. You cheer up, old fellow! I know you were only
trying to serve me; but you were silly to go without waking Warren, or
myself."

The speaker was Ralph, and he addressed his chum Charlton, who was a
prisoner. A prisoner, that is, inasmuch as the Head had forbidden him
to go out into the playground until he had thoroughly gone into the
incidents of the previous night.

It was all very well for Ralph to say "cheer up," but Charlton did not
feel very cheerful. His sensitive nature shrank from the position in
which he found himself, and his heart revolted at the wicked falsehoods
which were told so calmly by both Dobson and Elgert. Besides, he was
kept in, and that afternoon he had hoped to get across to see how his
father was getting on.

And though we, who know the truth, may wonder how it was that the Head
should do this, still, the doctor himself did not know the truth, and
he could hardly think that two lads would tell such wicked deliberate
lies; and, moreover, everything pointed to Charlton being guilty.

Dr. Beverly had been sitting up late, deep in a learned work with
which he was greatly interested, when he had heard the noise in his
class-room, followed by the voice of the head monitor, calling from
above, and asking what was the matter; and he had hurried out--to find
Charlton lying half dazed on the floor, having apparently fallen over a
form and struck his head; and in his hand was Ralph's examination paper.

Charlton being a nervous boy, his very manner seemed guilty when the
Head had questioned him; and his story seemed to be false, for upon
Dr. Beverly hurrying upstairs, Elgert was found with only his trousers
on, as if he had just slipped out of bed, and Dobson was the same.
Moreover, the boys in the Fifth declared that Elgert was sitting up in
bed when they were aroused; and even Ralph and Warren had to own that
Dobson appeared as if he had only just woke up.

And both Dobson and Elgert declared that they had never been
downstairs, and that Charlton had invented the story.

So, still under the suspicion, he was kept in, and Ralph and Warren
seized the first opportunity of going to comfort him.

"If the Head knew them as well as we do, he would not be in much doubt
about things," was Warren's verdict. "Don't you worry, old chap! We
know you would not do anything to harm Ralph."

"I wanted to go and see my father this afternoon," sighed Charlton; and
Ralph answered--

"Never mind. I will go. Tom will come with me."

"I am awfully sorry, but I cannot," the monitor put in. "I would in a
minute, but I promised mother to go round for her to my aunt's, and I
must not disappoint her."

"Of course not," said Ralph immediately. "Well, I will go alone, and
explain to your father, old chap; so don't you worry about that any
more. I wish, though, that I could see some way of bringing this home
to those two, but I confess that I don't."

"Wait a bit. Give them a rope long enough and they will hang
themselves!" growled Warren. "Now, buck up, Charlton, and don't let
them think that you are beaten!" And with that the two had to leave
their chum, and Charlton felt decidedly comforted.

And, after school, Tom Warren went off to obey his mother's desire; and
Ralph, true to his promise, started on his journey to the man hiding in
the old ruin away by Crab Tree Hill; and the rest of the boys prepared
to spend their time according to their own inclinations.

Jimmy Green and his chum Tinkle had made their plans. They were going
fishing. It is sometimes a matter for wonder why small boys will go
fishing, seeing that they seldom catch any fish, and don't know what
to do with them if by chance they manage to secure a few. Still, that
matters nothing. Jimmy and Tinkle were going fishing, and were busily
preparing a wonderful and fearful assortment of tackle and bait. Bait!
They had worms several inches long, and what they called paste--a
fearsome concoction of bread and clay kneaded together into little
balls. And they had a landing-net. We mention this for two reasons.
First, because of its size--it would have held a small salmon--and then
because it was destined to aid in landing some queer fish. We may not
say of what kind yet--but the point to remember is that they had the
landing-net.

And Jimmy Green and his chum were discussing the problem of Charlton's
guilt, and their small minds appeared to be fully made up.

"I just believe every word he says!" declared Green; and Tinkle nodded
his fat little head.

"So do I!" he said.

"Those two chaps are awful cads--dreadful cads!" continued Green,
with much warmth; and again Tinkle nodded. He did not believe in the
exertion of talking, unless it was absolutely necessary.

"I wonder," he said slowly, as he pushed back a particularly lively
worm into the bait-tin--"I wonder, Jimmy, if we ought to tell what we
know about that note? I often wonder that." But Jimmy was still firm
upon that point.

"What's the good? If we had the note now we might do it. But suppose
they treat us as they have treated Charlton, and say they did not go
there? How are we to prove it? And we let out that we have been there
ourselves. It ain't no good, Tinkle. I would tell if I thought it was;
but it isn't, and there is no getting away from it."

"I suppose it ain't," was Tinkle's regretful answer. "Well, come on,
Jimmy! I think we have got everything we want, and we may as well have
all the time we can."

"Where shall we go?" inquired Jimmy Green.

"Oh, the pool below Becket Weir," answered Tinkle; "where Elgert nearly
got drowned."

"Very well; come on, and let us see if we have any luck." And the two
young anglers set out, little dreaming what a very queer fish they were
going to catch that day.

And what of Elgert and Dobson? Mean lads that they were, they were
delighted, and congratulated themselves upon their astuteness. True,
they had not got possession of Ralph's papers, and had failed in so far
as spoiling his chances for the medal went; but they had got Charlton
into fine disgrace.

It was wonderfully smart upon their parts, they thought; and, as if to
add to their good fortune, Dobson had a little scrap of paper brought
to him by a town urchin--a message from Brown of the cake-shop, to the
effect that the latter had been successful in obtaining the "article"
he had inquired about; but that the price would be seven pounds for it,
cash down.

Seven pounds! Elgert growled at that, but the note must be got again at
any cost; and so Dobson was given the sum required, and dispatched upon
his errand.

He wanted Elgert to go with him, for company, but Elgert was too
cunning for that. He had kept out of the business all along, and he did
not mean to be seen in it now. To be sure, he had been with Dobson to
inquire about it in the first place, but he had no fear that the man
would betray him. Dobson had done the changing, and Dobson should do
the buying, and bring the note back to him.

"I cannot come," he said, in answer to the boy's remonstrance. "I
expect our man over with a letter from my father, and I want to stay
here to get it. You must go alone. It won't take you long. Hurry back,
for I shall not go out until you return."

"I always have to do the work," grumbled Dobson. "It is a horrid long
way to go alone."

"Get out! Have not I found the money? And as to a long way, you don't
make much fuss about that if you think that you are going to be treated
to tarts. You clear off, and look sharp; and thank your lucky stars
that we have got out of the mess so nicely, for I confess that I did
not think that we were going to manage it!"

So Dobson set off, and Horace Elgert turned back to the playground,
to await his return with what patience he could; and there the Head
himself came upon him, and stopped, and placed one hand upon his
shoulder, looking searchingly into his face.

"I am glad that I have met you alone, Elgert," the doctor said. "For
I want to speak to you very seriously. I want to speak to you about
Charlton."

"Yes, sir?" said the boy inquiringly. It was wonderful how calmly and
innocently he spoke. "What about him, sir--has he owned that his story
is false?"

"Not so, Elgert. Nor am I satisfied that it is false, Elgert. Are you
satisfied that it is?"

"Why, sir, of course I am!" he answered, staring up as if unable to
comprehend the Head's meaning, though he knew it well enough.

"Elgert, there is an old Book with an old law, which says: 'Thou shalt
not bear false witness against thy neighbour.' In face of such a solemn
command, are you still sure that Charlton's story is false?"

"You don't mean to say that I and Dobson were there taking those
papers, do you, sir?" he queried indignantly. "Ah, I see how it is!
You believe his word. I don't think that quite fair, sir. Consider the
difference between his surroundings and mine. Which will most likely
speak the truth--the son of a man wanted by the police, or the son of a
nobleman like my father?"

"You still adhere to your statement, Elgert?" said the Head, taking no
notice of the latter part of his speech. And Elgert answered at once--

"Of course I do, sir!"

"Then," said the Head, "I have no option but to be guided by
circumstances, and they all point to Charlton being guilty." And with
that he turned away.

Elgert felt anxious and angry. What right had the Head to suspect
him of telling lies, or to doubt his honour? It is wonderful how
dishonourable people will talk of their honour. And suppose the Head
got Dobson, and began to question him. He must warn the fellow to be on
guard against that.

The man he expected did not come. Elgert was angry. He told himself
that Dobson was taking double the time he need; and when at last his
companion returned, he asked very shortly--

"Well, have you got it?"

"Yes; here it is, all safe. It is delightful to feel that danger is
past!"

"A danger of your own making," retorted Elgert. "A danger that I have
had to pay for, and that has cost you nothing. And you look here! The
Head has been questioning me. He is suspicious, and preaches about
false witnessing. Mind what you are at if he begins on you; for if you
let anything out I will pay you out for it. You had better clear off
now, to be out of his way."

Dobson complied readily enough. The last thing he wanted was for the
Head to carpet him. And then Horace Elgert, the note safe in his
pocket-book, put on his hat and went out. He was enraged that his man
had not been, and was going home to give him a good rating; and he, to
take a short cut, must go past Becket Weir, where Tinkle and Green had
gone to fish.

CHAPTER XXIX

WHAT TINKLE AND GREEN CAUGHT

"There don't seem to be much sport," said Tinkle to Green, as they
sat side by side on the river bank, casting longing glances at their
floats. Tinkle's bobbed under, and he pulled up sharply--he had hooked
a fine piece of weed, the tenth catch of the kind he had made.

"Bother!" said Green, putting down the landing-net, which he had seized
to be in readiness to help his friend. "I am jolly well sick of it. Let
us drop it."

Tinkle agreed; the rod was taken to pieces and the lines put away, and
then the pair stood up.

"Ugh--ah-r-r!" sighed Tinkle. "Don't it make you cramped, and---- I
say, Green, there's a man coming, and by gum, I believe it's that
Elgert's man--the chap we saw in the cake-shop!"

"So it is," was Green's answer. "And look how he is sauntering. Perhaps
he is going to meet some one."

"Let us hide," suggested Tinkle eagerly, "in the old boathouse. We may
hear some more secrets."

Green made no objection on the score of eavesdropping; the two
boys, bending low, darted across the towing-path, and into an old,
dilapidated, wooden building, now fast falling to decay, that had once
done duty as a boathouse.

"Oh, I say, here comes Elgert himself!" said Green excitedly, peeping
through a hole. "Don't make a sound. I believe----"

"Oh," interrupted Tinkle, in consternation, "they are coming in here!
Oh, what ever shall we do?"

"Be quiet, you silly. Hide! Down you go flat under that old boat. Hold
up the end while I creep under; and whatever you do, don't sneeze. Mind
the net, and----"

His words were cut short by the boat slipping from Tinkle's hands and
extinguishing them both. They lay side by side. They were quite safe,
for it was most unlikely that Elgert or the man would look beneath it.

One of the planks had started, and they could hear plainly, and even
see a good deal of the interior of the place. They did see--saw Elgert
and the man enter; and Horace Elgert sat down on the top of that boat.

"If I only had a pin!" muttered Green. And Tinkle dug him in the ribs
and breathed in his ear--

"Be quiet, or I will punch your head when I get you out!"

"You are an impertinent rascal!" was Elgert's first polite remark.
"But don't you forget the book I have, with the confession in it. It
may get you into trouble yet."

"And don't you forget, Mr. Horace, that it was your own father who
put me up to it. He wanted Charlton got out of the way, and he showed
me how to make a hundred pounds for myself, and make an innocent man
get the blame. I haven't had a single day's peace of mind since. My
conscience has accused me."

"Your conscience! Where do you keep it?" laughed Elgert, while the ears
of the two hidden boys were strained to their utmost. "A pretty sort of
fellow you are. My father put you up to it! How can you prove that?"

"I cannot," was the sulky answer. "He was too clever for that. I wrote
the truth in my pocket-book----"

"Like the ass you are! What good would that do to you, or to Charlton?"

"It did no good. But it made me feel better, even to confess it like
that. You stole the book--you, a fine gentleman! You stole it from my
coat!"

"Yes; it was safer in my keeping than in yours. Such things are
dangerous if they are left lying about."

"And you have used it as a threat to me ever since; and have ordered me
about as if I were a dog!" was the angry retort. And Elgert laughed.

"I have found it useful certainly. And, my man, do you see that scar on
the back of your hand? It was a bad cut, I think. How did you manage
it?"

The man, with a swift motion, put his hand in his pocket.

"I cut it," he said. And Elgert laughed again.

"Yes. Do you know what housebreaking is? I suppose you know nothing of
some one who broke into the school, the beginning of this term; and
who was found near my bed, with a pillow; it looked very much as if he
were going to try and kill me by smothering me. I wonder what that man
wanted. He was frightened away by one of our boys, and he cut his hand
getting over the wall. I wonder who that man was?"

"You know it was me. I would have done it, too, if I had not been
found. I was frightened then, but I am not now. I am not in your power
any more."

"Oh, and what has happened to change things?" inquired Horace Elgert
mockingly.

"This," said the man fiercely. "If I have done wrong, what about you?
There was a five-pound note stolen at your school----"

"What do you know about that?" cried Elgert quickly.

"I know that it was changed in the town by your friend; and I know that
you and he went to buy it back, and paid far more than it was worth for
it, and----"

"And having got it back, there the thing ends," laughed Horace; but the
man laughed also.

"Oh, yes, you got it back; but not before I had photographed it! I have
the negative here, a beautiful negative that will enlarge."

Elgert regarded him in silent fury.

"Well," he said, altering his tone, "what do you want for it? I suppose
you are trying to make money?"

"My book--the one you stole. If it is just as it was when I had it,
you shall have this; if it is torn or damaged, then I take this to the
police."

"You are smarter than I thought," answered Elgert blandly; but oh, in
his heart, how he determined that in some way he would make this man
suffer! "Well, here is the book. You can see it is not harmed."

The man snatched the book which the boy took from his pocket, and ran
to the door to get all the light he could, as he eagerly glanced inside.

"It is all right," he said. "Here is the negative." And he handed it
to Elgert. "And now you go!"--this to the book. "You have caused me
trouble enough. Go where no one can get at you!" And, in a fit of rage,
he threw it into the river; and then he turned back to the boy.

"Get it again, if you can!" he laughed. "My word is as good as yours,
now; and while you have the negative, you have not got the prints I
took from it. You are in my power now, Mr. Horace, and you had best be
civil, or there will be trouble." And with that he turned and hurried
off, leaving Horace Elgert alone, white with passion and fear.

"I need not fear him," he muttered. "It only means paying enough, and I
shall get them. This can go, the water will soon wash the film off."

He skimmed the negative away, but it slipped from his fingers and fell
into shallow water. He did not trouble; in less than an hour it would
be washed clean away. Then Horace Elgert produced a book from his
pocket, and this he, having tied a stone to it, also threw into the
river; then, finally, he took that dreadful banknote from his pocket,
and, striking a match, he set it alight and watched it burn to ashes.
Then, hands in pockets, he sauntered off, and Tinkle and Green crept
from their refuge.

"We must get back," said Green. "We shall be late."

"Get back be bothered!" rejoined Tinkle eagerly. "We are going to fish
again. Be careful. Here, hold open your book--I see one in your pocket!"

Tinkle carefully picked up all the grey, fluffy ash of that burnt
banknote, and placed it between the leaves.

"My father says that banknotes have a queer ash, and we may want to
show this. Now let us see if we can get those things out of the river.
That negative seemed to fall close in."

"I see it!" cried Green, pointing into the water.

"Look, there it is, out on that patch of white sand--see, there!"

A clever stroke or two with the landing-net, and then the little square
of glass was in their hands. It was scratched somewhat, but unbroken.
Tinkle laid it on the grass carefully.

"That is one," he said. "Now let us try for the others."

He weighted his line heavily, and started. He fished and fished, and at
last he was rewarded--up came the pocket-book; and soon after, up came
another book with a stone tied to it.

"It is a crib," pronounced Tinkle. "Come on, Green; we are in an awful
mess, and we are in for a caning, I suppose; but we have caught our
fish, and I don't care a bit."

The two boys raced back to the school, and they were accosted in the
playground by Warren.

"Hallo, you two kids! Where have you been, and how did you get into
that state?" the monitor asked. "You are over an hour late. Have you
seen anything of Rexworth?"

"No, Warren. Isn't he in? We wanted him. Oh, we have got something to
tell him!"

"You will have something to tell the doctor," answered Warren grimly.
"He is bound to want to know what you have been up to."

"Don't go, Warren. Do listen to us. It concerns Rexworth and Charlton.
We know about Elgert."

"What is that?" cried Warren, turning. "What do you mean?" And the
boys, with many "you sees" and "you knows," told their story, and
exhibited their treasures.

"Here, you come with me!" said Warren. "You are a pair of little
bricks. Come with me!"

"Where to, Warren?" they asked, as he hurried on--not in the direction
of their room, but towards the Head's house. "Where are we going?"

"To the Head himself. He must deal with this. Don't you be frightened.
I don't think he will punish you for being late, after he knows what
kept you. Come on and speak up like men!"

"Why, Warren!" exclaimed Dr. Beverly, in mild surprise, when the
monitor of the Fourth entered his presence, accompanied by the two
little draggled objects. "What is this? Have these boys been in the
river? Take them to the housekeeper at once. They are soaking wet!"

"They won't hurt for a minute or two more. They have something to tell
you, sir--something I thought that you ought to hear before any one
else."

"Indeed!" said the Head. "And what is it? Speak quickly, and let them
go; they will catch bad colds."

So Warren told the story for them, and placed their catch before the
Head. And Dr. Beverly, great man as he was, shook these two happy
juniors by the hand, and called them clever boys, and dismissed them
to revel in special tea in the matron's room after he had strictly
enjoined both them and the monitor not to say a word of this, even to
Charlton or Ralph Rexworth.

But Ralph had not come home, and it was getting late now. He had been
long enough to get to Crab Tree Hill and back twice over. What could
have happened to Ralph Rexworth?

CHAPTER XXX

WHAT DETAINED RALPH REXWORTH

Ralph Rexworth stood in the old ruin, looking very perplexed. He could
not find Mr. Charlton anywhere. He had whistled, and called, and
searched, but not a trace of the hiding man could he discover.

He felt anxious. What could it mean? Had the hiding-place been
discovered, and his chum's unfortunate parent again been taken
prisoner? Unless that was the case, he was at a loss to account for the
man's absence.

"It is no use waiting any longer," he mused, after he had searched the
ruin through for the third time. "He has not hurt himself and fallen
anywhere in here. He must have been alarmed, and have fled, unless he
is taken. Poor old Fred will be horribly worried when I go back and
tell him; but there is nothing else for me to do, and I shall be late
back, as it is."

He sighed. His friend's anxiety for his parent would be something like
what he felt for his missing father. It made Ralph think of that again,
and of the strange cry which he had heard in that place. He could not
understand that. As he stood there he felt an uncontrollable impulse to
penetrate to that lonely house again, to risk meeting the dogs, and to
try the effects of his call once more.

"I am bound to be late, anyhow," he muttered, "so here goes." And he
set off. Perhaps he might meet Charlton's father in the wood.

But--he stopped suddenly--what did this mean? There, on the soft
ground, were those tracks once more! Lord Elgert's lame mare had been
here! Did that mean that Lord Elgert himself had been; or had he lent
his trap to the police again, and had they managed to run their victim
down?

The tracks did not touch the ruin; they began some way from it, and
swept round the spinny towards that lonely house. For Ralph to follow
them was but child's play. He had hardly to slacken his pace a bit, so
plainly the marks were to be seen on the soft, little-trodden earth.
They guided him to the spinny--to a little path cut through it, of
which he had been ignorant before--right up to the house itself; and
there, standing before the open door, was Lord Elgert's trap and the
lame mare. It was not to the ruin, but to that mysterious house that
the trap had been driven. But why? Ah, how Ralph asked himself that
question, and how impossible it was to find an answer to it!

Lord Elgert seemed to have hated his father. Lord Elgert was here,
and he had heard his father's signal in this place. Ralph, crouching
behind the trees, uttered his old call, and then listened with almost
breathless attention.

Yes. There--there, muffled but indistinct, the answer came! It came
from the house. His father was there, and his father was in Lord
Elgert's power!

Ralph's first impulse was to dash forward; but he paused. He must
be cautious here. He remained hiding, waiting to see if any one had
noticed his call, and his prudence was rewarded by seeing Lord Elgert
himself come to the door, accompanied by the brutal-looking man whom he
had seen before, and glance anxiously round.

Then the two seemed to consult; and presently the man went away, to
return with a couple of great tawny hounds, both of which he let loose.
Ralph's heart stood still. What could he do against those fierce
brutes? The man and Lord Elgert went in, and the dogs roamed round.
They had not struck his scent yet; but presently they would do so, and
then it would be a hard business for him.

Ralph was preparing to cautiously creep away, when he heard a shout
from the house--a cry for help, and in his father's voice! That put all
else out of his head, and he dashed like a deer across the grass and
into the open door of that house. His father was there; his father was
crying for help, and he would stand by his side!

The dogs saw, and raised a deep-voiced bay. He slammed the door and
shut them out, then darted along in the direction of the sounds he had
heard.

They came from a room on the first floor and he rushed in, and
there--there his father struggled in the grasp of Lord Elgert and
his fierce companion. Mr. Rexworth had evidently been kept a captive
by being bound to the wall by a stout chain; and one of his arms was
swathed in dirty bandages, as though he was hurt.

Whether his captors wished to bind him still more securely, or whether
it was that they sought to convey him somewhere else, Ralph did not
know. He saw his father with his back to the wall, brandishing a stool
in one hand. He saw the man rush in, dodge the blow, and strike his
father down; and then, with a cry of rage, he sprang forward, seizing a
heavy stick that lay on the table, and struck wildly at the aggressor.
Alas! what could one stripling like he do against two such men? They
both turned, and Ralph received a heavy blow upon the temple; and then
all was darkness, and he knew nothing more.

But when he opened his eyes, where was he? What had happened? Why could
he not move?

He strove to rise. He felt giddy and sick, and his head ached and
throbbed dreadfully. Why he was bound--bound hand and foot, and he was
stretched upon the floor!

He rolled on his side. His father lay back against the wall, but his
chain was gone. He was only secured with a rope, in the same manner
that Ralph was fastened. But his eyes were closed, and his face was
very white. A dreadful fear filled the lad's mind--that he had come too
late, that his father was really dead now.

For a few minutes he lay still, quietly trying the strength of his
bonds. He knew that knots hastily tied could frequently be worked
loose; but, alas, it was a vain hope in his case! Those who had secured
him had done their work well.

And then suddenly he became aware of a hot, choky feeling in the air,
and a sound of crackling. He struggled into a sitting posture, and--oh,
horrible, horrible!--the room was full of smoke. The place was on fire,
and he and his dear father were there, helpless and bound, left to
perish in the flames!

What wonder that terror claimed him for the moment? Who would not
flinch then in such an awful position?

"Father! Father!" he cried; but the prostrate man returned no answer.
He lay silent, motionless. Ralph rolled over and over to his side.
Alas, what good would that do? He managed to struggle to his feet by
supporting himself in an angle of the room, and he gazed around. The
smoke was growing worse--he could hardly breathe when he stood up--and
hot puffs of air were forcing themselves through the flooring and
whirling along the passage and through the door of the room--the door
which was cracking and glowing red now, ready to burst into flame.

Oh, was there no help, no succour? If only his faithful Warren or dear
old Charlton knew of his peril, how they would come to his aid! Alas,
they were far away, and they did not know.

But what was that? A sound outside! A shout, and the dogs barking and
raging more than ever, in a perfect fury of anger. Then a smashing of
glass. Had the fire broken the windows? No. A form rising above the
sill, a man who staggered as the hot smoke met him, and who bent down
on all fours to creep across the room--a man who cried aloud--

"Ralph Rexworth, are you here? Are you here?"

It was Mr. Charlton; it was Mr. Charlton come to his aid. Oh, what a
swift rush of thanksgiving filled Ralph's heart then!

"Here, here!" he answered. "I am tied up; I cannot move. And father is
here, too; he is senseless." And Mr. Charlton was by his side in a few
moments.

"Thank God you are unharmed," he said, as he drew his knife across
the ropes that held Ralph prisoner. "I saw you enter, and I feared
mischief; and when those two came out and drove off, I knew not what to
think. There are two brutes of dogs there, and they prevented my trying
to get in. Then I saw the smoke and flame, and I knew what they had
done. I grew desperate, and made a dash for it. The dogs almost got
me, but I managed to get into a tree that grew close to the house; and
I passed along one branch to the top of the verandah, and so worked my
way round. It was risky, for if I had slipped those two brutes would
have been on me in a moment."

Mr. Charlton was not idle while he was talking. He had set Ralph free,
and had cut the ropes that held Mr. Rexworth, who now opened his eyes
and stared around in bewilderment.

"Oh father, father!" cried Ralph. "Thank God that you are alive! Try
and rouse yourself, father dear. We are in great danger. The house is
on fire, and if we do not get away quickly we must all perish."

"Ralph, what is it! How did you come?" the father asked vacantly. And
Mr. Charlton shook him.

"Never mind that now, friend!" he cried. "The fire is upon us. Ah, see
there!"--as the door fell with a crash and a burst of flame swept in
upon them. "We have not a moment to lose. Out you go, Ralph, and hold
on like a limpet! Be ready to aid your father, that is all"--as Ralph
scrambled through the window and managed to find footing on a narrow
ledge that ran round the house. "Now, Mr. Rexworth, prove yourself
a man. If you fall, the dogs won't give you a chance. Now, sir, for
Heaven's sake, try!"

"I will manage it all right, my good friend," answered Mr. Rexworth.
The flame and smoke had recalled him to the immediate peril. "Just a
hand through, that is all." And, summoning all his reserve of strength
and resolution, he managed to get from the window, aided by Mr.
Charlton in the room, and somewhat supported by Ralph behind him.

Cautiously holding on with grim energy, the three managed to creep back
to that point from which the rescuer had first started--the top of the
verandah. But this was a position of great peril now; for the flames
were breaking through it, and darting from the windows above it, and
the melted lead of roof and gutter hissed and spluttered. It seemed
death to go on; it was death to go back. And the two hounds below had
followed them round, and now stood barking up at them.

"We must risk it," panted Mr. Charlton. "Let me go first, and show you
how to do it. If you step on the wall you can reach the branch of the
tree in three strides. It seems very dreadful, but the peril is more
apparent than real. Look!"

He boldly jumped to the brickwork around which the fire darted. He took
three quick firm steps, and was able to swing himself into the limb of
the tree, safe from the fire's reach.

Mr. Rexworth followed by the same dangerous path. "Now, Ralph!" he
cried. But almost as the words came the whole of the verandah, and the
brickwork supporting it, fell in; and there Ralph was left clinging to
that narrow protection of the wall.

And the wall itself was cracking with the heat. He could not maintain
his position for long. At any moment it might fall and cover him in its
heated ruins.

Mr. Rexworth groaned in horror; Mr. Charlton looked on in dismay; and
Ralph clung there, with death behind, and death above, and death--the
worst death of all, red-eyed and lolling-tongued death--beneath
awaiting him!

CHAPTER XXXI

THE TABLES ARE TURNED

"Ralph! Oh, my son!" cried Mr. Rexworth, as he saw the peril in which
the brave lad stood. And the boy turned and looked at his father.

"I cannot hold on here much longer, father," he said. "I shall have to
drop, and take my chance with the dogs."

"Wait--wait a moment, Ralph!" answered the agonized man. "Let me get
down and attract their attention, and then you will have a chance."

"Don't, don't father," implored Ralph. "What chance will you have with
them with your arm hurt? I may manage it."

"I will do it," volunteered Mr. Charlton; "I am uninjured. You stay
here, sir."

"Don't either of you do it!" cried Ralph, shifting his position a
little so as to avoid the smoke if he could. "I am going to try and
creep back a bit. I may find a better place."

"It is useless, Ralph," was his father's answer. "The wall is cracking
behind you. I can see the smoke coming through. Oh, if we only had a
rope!"

"A rope!" cried Mr. Charlton. "If a rope can aid in such an extremity,
I can supply that; for I have kept a long one on my person in case I
might be in need of it to escape from my own enemies."

As he spoke he threw off his coat and waistcoat, and there, wound round
his body, was a long but fine line, one quite long enough to serve the
purpose of reaching to where Ralph clung, though he could not see of
what avail it would be.

But Mr. Rexworth saw. And, shouting to Ralph to keep up his courage and
to look out, he threw one end of the rope--not to the boy--but up over
another branch of the tree that was some height above them. Then he
caught this end as it fell, and gave the other to Mr. Charlton, bidding
him give one turn round the trunk and hold on with all his might. The
other end he whirled round his head, and, with practised aim, he sent
it to Ralph, who gripped at it with one hand, having to risk falling to
earth as he did so.

[Illustration: "WITH PRACTISED AIM, HE SENT THE ROPE TO RALPH, WHO
GRIPPED IT WITH ONE HAND." p. 287]

But, having got it, the rest was easy. He was able to swing across that
fiery gulf which separated him from safety, and the next moment was
safely beside his father, while the dogs ran to the tree and leaped
against its trunk in vain rage. And almost at that moment the wall to
which he had been clinging collapsed and fell in fiery ruin. A few
moments sooner, and it would have carried the brave boy with it to his
death.

Safe so far, but still held prisoners by those dogs; and still with
the flame and smoke blowing upon them. If the walls fell in their
direction death might claim them after all.

"If we only had some weapon to beat these brutes off with," said Mr.
Charlton, as he looked down. But Mr. Rexworth replied--

"We had better remain here. The fire is sure to be seen, and help will
arrive soon."

Help! Yes, help for Ralph and his father. But what would that help mean
to poor Mr. Charlton--what but being taken prisoner again? He sighed,
but said nothing. He had done his best to help the boy who had helped
him, and if that must be the price paid he would pay it.

But Ralph had little idea of remaining perched in a tree. He saw that
there was a weapon, and one which, in skilful hands, would prove very
effective--one which he excelled in the use of.

The rope was coiled in his hands, and a running noose was formed at
one end. He crawled far out on the branch, and got a firm hold with
his legs; then he gave his rope a whirl, and sent it flying downwards.
And soon one of those great dogs was jerked into mid-air, and when it
touched earth again it was dead--its neck was broken.

They hauled it up and loosened the noose, letting the body fall heavily
to the earth. And ere long the second animal had shared its fate, and
there was nothing to hinder them from descending.

Nothing! No, that was not quite right. There was a desperate man, who
had remained hidden, to see the result of his wicked work--a man whose
face was dark with wrath, and whose heart was maddened with fear. For
if these escaped unscathed, it meant the ruin of everything for him.

Mr. Charlton and Ralph had helped Mr. Rexworth to the ground, and
either from weakness, or from the reaction of feeling, Mr. Rexworth
staggered and sunk half swooning at the foot of the tree; while the
other two bent over him anxiously.

That was the chance. Lord Elgert and his brutal follower suddenly
dashed from the shelter of the trees and rushed upon them. The man was
armed with a rugged stick, and Lord Elgert had a heavily-loaded whip.
It seemed as if the others were at their mercy; but Ralph's quick
ear caught the sound of their approach, and with a cry of warning he
started up. The others were almost upon them, and they were unarmed.
The lad glanced around; at his feet one of the dead dogs lay; he seized
it, he put out all his strength, and sent the heavy body direct at the
pair, who, quite unprepared for such an unexpected assault, received it
full in their faces.

The man fell heavily, Lord Elgert turned and fled. And Ralph, with an
eager cry, darted after him, rope in hand. The man who had treated his
father thus should not escape him now.

But now through the growth there came the crashing of heavy bodies,
and loud shouts were raised. The fire had attracted attention, and
people were rushing from Crab Tree village to see what was the cause.

And not only villagers, but policemen--policemen who had patiently
waited and watched, feeling sure that the man they wanted was still
hiding in the locality. It was a constable who grabbed hold of Ralph's
arm, and, pulling him up with a sudden jerk, demanded what he was doing
and what had occasioned the fire.

Ralph struggled. It was maddening to think that he was stopped while
Lord Elgert was escaping. He did not stop to think that escape was next
to impossible. He was accustomed to the ways of the wild plains, and
there, if a man once got away, it was almost certain that no one would
catch him again.

"It was Lord Elgert who did it, and he is running away!" he cried. "My
father is there. You know how he was missing, and we thought he had
been murdered. Lord Elgert had him. He is here."

"Whatever are you talking about, young man?" the constable demanded,
perplexed at such a dramatic statement. But the sergeant, who had come
up with a horse-constable interposed--

"Don't stand there talking, man, see what is amiss!" The constable had
let go of Ralph, and the mounted man had jumped from his horse. Ralph
caught sight of a trap being driven at full speed over the moor. He
had no need to ask who was in that. Lord Elgert was making good his
escape. With a shout of anger and defiance, Ralph had sprung into the
empty saddle and was off before a single man there could get over his
surprise and hinder him.

"There he goes, there he goes!" he shouted, pointing after the trap.
"That is Lord Elgert, but I will ride him down!" And away he went,
leaving the men open-mouthed.

They found the two dead dogs, they found Mr. Rexworth, and alas! they
found poor, patient Mr. Charlton. He might have attempted to escape,
but he would not leave the injured man. Besides, it was no use now;
there was nowhere else to hide, and he must be taken sooner or later.

And after the galloping mare went Ralph, riding hard. It was
like the old life once more--this wild gallop. He had ridden the
half-wild broncho steeds of Texas, and he had no difficulty with this
well-trained horse.

On he went; on, on, near and nearer to the flying man in front. He
saw Lord Elgert look back at him. A man against a boy! Surely the man
need have no fear in such a contest! And yet Lord Elgert did fear. He
had feared this boy from the very first time he had seen him in Stow
Wood. He had feared him from the moment Ralph had cut that bullet
from the tree, and from the time when he had heard him declare that
he would never rest until he had solved the mystery of his father's
disappearance. That mystery was solved, all his wicked devices were
brought to naught, and now he was fleeing for life and for liberty,
being hunted just as he had made the police hunt Mr. Charlton. The
tables were being turned indeed!

Nearer and nearer Ralph drew, and fiercer and more cruelly did the
man lash the sides of his faithful little mare. Ralph stood up in his
stirrups, and Lord Elgert looked at him over his shoulder. The boy had
the rope in his hands. Ah, the very first thing he did when he had come
to the place was to rope his black bull! Now he was going to serve him
in the same way--to serve him as he had served the two dogs!

Lord Elgert saw the arm of the boy sweep round his head, and he ducked.

But Ralph had not aimed at him, he had a better plan than that. The
noose settled over the little mare. Ralph pulled up, and braced himself
for the shock which he knew would follow--a shock which nearly pulled
him from his saddle. The mare went down, the trap was shattered,
and Lord Elgert, totally unprepared--not even looking where he was
going--was sent flying through the air to fall heavily, striking his
temple against a rugged stump.

Ralph was at the spot in a moment. The man was stunned and at his
mercy. The rope had done its duty as a lasso, and was now used to bind
Lord Elgert. Ralph felt no remorse or compunction about that. He must
take this man to his father, and his father must declare what should
next be done.

"He isn't much hurt," he muttered; "nor are you, you poor thing," he
added, turning to the plunging mare. "There you are"--as he cut her
free from the ruin of the trap. "Now I reckon that you can find your
own way home, and, in the meantime, I will wait here."

He placed his hands to his mouth, and gave his old wild call, and from
the distance it was answered by his father. They would soon be here
now. Ralph tethered the horse, and seated himself on the grass. Lord
Elgert opened his eyes, and looked at him with an expression of the
deepest hate; but Ralph little heeded that. His father was safe, and
that was all he thought of then. Ralph Rexworth felt happier at that
moment than he had done for many a day, and, paying no attention to his
fallen foe, save to take care that he did not get free, he waited until
the police, people, and Mr. Rexworth arrived upon the scene. Yes, the
tables were turned now; and had he but known it, they were turned at
school also.

CHAPTER XXXII

FLOGGED AND EXPELLED

"The whole school to assemble in the hall!"

The order was received in every class-room, and masters and boys looked
surprised. It was generally known that Ralph Rexworth had been absent
all night, and that a message had been sent over to Mr. St. Clive's
asking whether the boy had been detained there. It was also known that
Charlton was in disgrace--that he had been accused of stealing Ralph's
examination papers, for the purpose of correcting them from a crib.

The idea was that it must be on one of these accounts that the school
was summoned--either Ralph had got into trouble, or Charlton was to be
punished.

But there was no time for speculation. Into the hall the boys trooped,
class by class--juniors, middle division, and seniors--their masters
following, and their monitors leading the way; and there upon the
doctor's desk an ominous object was to be seen--the school birch,
rarely taken from its resting-place in the cupboard, rarely used, and,
if the truth must be told, rarely needing to be used. Woe betide the
unlucky boy who so far disgraced the honour of Marlthorpe as to render
its presence needful, for what he got from the Head was as nothing to
what he would receive from the angry scholars later on.

"Silence!"

Kesterway's voice rang out as Dr. Beverly entered and an expectant hush
fell upon the whole school.

"Frederick Charlton, stand out!"

Charlton obeyed. Boys who knew how nervous he was were surprised to
see him quite calm now. He moved forward towards the Head's desk and
saluted; and then the Headmaster of Marlthorpe spoke.

"Charlton, you were found in my class-room the other night, with
Rexworth's examination papers in your hand. Tell the school your reason
for being there!"

The Head spoke shortly, but kindly, as if inviting the boy to be at
ease; and Charlton told his story, and explained how he had seen Dobson
and Elgert break open the desk.

"The desk was unlocked. There was no need to break it open," the Head
said; and then he turned to the other two boys, and asked them what
they had to say.

What they had to say indeed! Such indignant denials, and such plain
statements that it was all up between Rexworth and Charlton.

"Rexworth is detained, and cannot be here yet," said the Head quietly.
"But we can proceed with this inquiry in his absence. Elgert and
Dobson, stand out!"

And the two obeyed, ill at ease, wondering what was coming next, and
casting suspicious looks at each other, as if each thought the other
had turned informer.

"Horace Elgert, did you ever see this before?" asked the Head.

And Elgert turned white, for the doctor held out that wretched crib
which he had thrown into the river.

"No, sir," he answered, averting his eyes.

And the same answer was asked of Dobson, who gave the same answer.

"James Green! Henry Tinkle!" cried Kesterway.

And the two small chums jumped up eagerly.

"Explain how you became possessed of this crib," said the Head.

Green spoke first, and Tinkle backed him up, and then a low angry hiss
rang through the school, and Horace Elgert turned a pair of anxious,
frightened eyes towards his companions.

"Do you deny this story, Elgert?" asked the Head sternly.

And the boy was silent. If those two juniors had picked up his book,
had they picked up anything else?

"There was a banknote missing some time ago," the Head went on. "You
may remember that a note was found in Rexworth's pocket-book, and I
showed how he had been the victim of a plot. The banknote that was
stolen was never discovered; but I now know that it was changed by you,
Dobson, at a low cake shop in the town, and that afterwards it was
bought back by you and Elgert from that man for far more than it was
worth. That note, Elgert, you destroyed yesterday by burning it, and
here are the ashes." And the Head produced the filmy ash still lying
in _Tom Brown's Schooldays_. "But that note had been photographed,
and you purchased the negative by giving to the person who held it a
pocket-book which you had previously taken from him. The negative you
also threw into the river, and the person you were with threw in the
book which you had just restored to him. Do you deny these statements?"

Still Elgert did not answer. He felt hot and cold by turns. He did not
know where to turn his eyes. It was no use denying in the face of such
proof.

"You cannot answer!" the Head went on. "You, Dobson, what do you know
of this?"

"Oh--oh--oh!" yelled Dobson, clasping his hands, and falling upon
his knees. "Oh, forgive me, sir! Oh, I will own up, sir! It was all
Elgert's fault. He made me do it, sir! I never wanted to do it, sir! It
is all true, every bit of it, sir! Oh----"

"Silence!" cried the Head, in ill-disguised contempt. "No one can force
another to do evil. You two boys have conspired together to injure
the good name of a companion, whose only offence has been that he has
tried to act a noble manly part amidst very difficult and adverse
circumstances. You would have branded him a thief; and to do it you
did not hesitate to become thieves yourselves. You have told the
vilest lies--and you, Elgert, have done worse. It will be for other
authorities to deal with this; but I will mention it here. You have
allowed one of these boys--Charlton I mean--to suffer much torture
because of his father's unhappy position. You knew that his father was
innocent, and you held the proof of that, and----"

Then the Head stopped, for Charlton had turned very white. He had not
known of the business of the pocket-book.

"Oh, sir," he said, "my father innocent! And he knew it, and--and----"

He put his hand to his head, and Kesterway sprang forward and caught
him, or he would have fallen, for he fainted away; and the Head, with
tears in his eyes, murmured--

"Poor boy! Poor boy! Take him to the matron."

They carried him out, and not one of those who had jeered at him but
now felt sorry and ashamed, and full of anger against the two culprits,
to whom the Head now turned again.

"It is possible that others outside our school may have something to
say to you about this business," he said. "That has nothing to do with
me. I have only to deal with your offence as it touches the honour of
the school and for that offence only the severest punishment can be
inflicted----"

Whereat Dobson uttered a howl, and Elgert clenched his hands and
looked desperate. The severest punishment! That was why the birch was
there.

"You will both be publicly flogged," continued the Head, "and then you
will be expelled!"

And at this a shout of approval went up. Marlthorpe was going to be
avenged for the slight put upon its honour.

"Oh, mercy--mercy!" cried Dobson. "Oh, don't flog me, sir! I won't do
it any more, and it was all Elgert's fault."

Elgert looked at him in scorn. If he must be flogged, he would crave
no mercy. He would show them that he did not care. But flogged! A gasp
went round as the school porter and the man who kept the lodge came
in. It was useless to resist, though Dobson kicked and struggled, and
shouted in his anger and fear. The Head laid aside his gown, and took
the rod; and then the sound of the hissing cuts came. Dobson was the
first victim, and with the strokes came the yells--awful yells, for the
Head did not spare him in the least, and Dobson plainly found himself
in a very uncomfortable position.

He was released at last, and then Elgert--the Honourable Horace
Elgert--took his place. He bit his lips until the blood came, but he
would not cry out. But oh, how he hated Ralph Rexworth then! If he
could have hurt him--if he could have killed him, he would not have
cared what they did to him afterwards.

It was over at last. And he stood breathless, smarting, a mist before
his eyes, until he caught sight of Tinkle's fat face; and he thought
that Tinkle was grinning.

Then, rage overcoming him, not thinking what he was doing, he rushed
at the little fellow, and, had not Warren been near to prevent it, he
would have knocked him down.

And then, Head or no Head, Marlthorpe lost its calmness, and the boys
sprang up, and surged forward at the two offenders--angry boys, with
menacing eyes. Elgert's courage failed him then. He turned and ran, and
Dobson went after him. In vain masters shouted, and the Head rang his
bell. In vain Kesterway rushed after them. Not another monitor paid any
attention. Out into the playground they streamed, and around it they
chased the two boys.

Around they went. They drove them to the small pond, and threw them in.
They dragged them out, and hustled them, dripping and breathless, to
the gates. The Head had no need to expel the pair.

As Elgert and Dobson were thrown out a little party approached the
gates; and from its number, one boy darted forward to throw himself
between the two miserable victims and their pursuers, and that boy was
Ralph Rexworth himself.

"Here, I say, drop that! It is not fair!" giving Warren a shove
backwards. "It isn't the right thing! Drop it, you fellows! And look
out, here comes the Head!"

Yes, the Head with his cane, and the masters with their canes, coming
to insist upon order, and to show Marlthorpe that it could not be
permitted to do just as it chose even with boys like Dobson and Elgert.
It certainly looked as though some one was going to get caned just then.

But Warren uttered a whoop.

"Hallo, Ralph! Fellows, here is Rexworth turned up. Just too late to
see the fun! You ought to have heard Dobby yell, my boy! It was lovely!"

"Here is Rexworth!" echoed the boys.

They pounced upon him. They grabbed arm or leg, whichever they could
get hold of, and dragged him somehow upon their shoulders, and marched
back triumphantly; while the Head and the masters did not know what to
do.

And behind Ralph came Mr. Rexworth, and Mr. St. Clive and Irene--a very
radiant Irene--who whispered to Tom Warren that the gentleman with the
injured arm was Ralph's father, and that he was Lord Rexworth, because
he was the son of the old Lord Stephen, and his right name was Rexworth
Stephen, and Ralph would be the Honourable Ralph Rexworth Stephen. She
told it very excitedly, and Tom Warren whistled, and then yelled--

"Three cheers for Ralph's father--Lord Rexworth Stephen! And three more
cheers for the Honourable Ralph Rexworth Stephen! Come on, you fellows,
out with it!"

What shouting and cheering there was then! And how, while Mr. Rexworth,
as we will still call him, was talking to the Doctor, Ralph got nearly
pulled to pieces. Why, they even forgot the birching in the excitement
of Ralph's return. They had to hear his story, and how he had found
his father; and then Warren explained how they had found out that Mr.
Charlton was innocent.

That was good news for Ralph--the best news that could possibly be--and
escaping with Warren and Irene, he hurried across to the matron's
house, and begged that he might see his chum.

Charlton was all right, only he was so excited, and just a little
inclined to cry. And he wanted to know where his father was; and when
Ralph explained how Mr. Charlton had given himself up, he exclaimed--

"Oh, Ralph, let us go and explain! Let us go now!"

"Come and tell my father. He will understand," said Ralph; but there
was little need for telling.

Already Mr. St. Clive had been informed, and he had hurried off at
once. It would not be long before Mr. Charlton was a free man.

And then Mr. Rexworth, seeing that there would be much to talk about,
went back with Ralph and Irene and Charlton to Mr. St. Clive's house,
there to tell his story, and explain how it was that he had become the
prisoner of the man who had treated him so very cruelly.

CHAPTER XXXIII

CONCLUSION

Seated in the drawing-room at Mr. St. Clive's house, an interested
party gathered around Mr. Rexworth to hear his story. And not only
an interested party, but a happy one, for the trouble was gone, and
the sun was shining for all there. It was no wonder that, even before
stories were told, Mr. Rexworth should have said, "Let us all kneel
and thank our Heavenly Father for His great mercy and goodness," nor
that every heart should have been filled with devout gratitude as, with
bent heads, they listened to the words of thanksgiving, for, like the
psalmist of old, they could say, "God hath done great things for us,
whereof we are glad."

And so they sat, while Mr. Rexworth told his story, a story that had
its moral, too, for it revealed how disobedience to a father might
bring sore punishment afterwards.

For, as we now know, Mr. Rexworth was the son of old Lord Stephen, and
in his early days he had been wild and headstrong, and had frequently
disobeyed his father's commands. And in that he had been aided by his
cousin Elgert. For Elgert envied the young heir his position, and hoped
to make a bad quarrel between the father and son.

And he was successful. The quarrel came, and Mr. Rexworth had run away
from home, dropping his name of Stephen, and going away to the wild
plains of Texas, to indulge in the roving life for which he longed.
But he soon found that it was not all pleasure--that hardship and
disappointment followed, and that whether in England or away in wild
lands, the best thing for a man was to be a follower of the Lord Jesus
Christ.

But he did not write to his father, for he believed that he would never
be forgiven. And he met his wife, and married, and Ralph was born;
and then he was content, and put all thoughts of the old home away,
striving to bring his son up as a true Christian, even amidst their
wild surroundings.

But his wife, when she was dying, spoke seriously to her husband, for
she knew the truth, and she said that their boy ought to come to his
own; and so, because she wished it, for the first time Mr. Rexworth
wrote home to his father.

But Lord Stephen was dead, and his nephew reigned in his place; and
Lord Elgert had sent a cold letter back, saying that he did not wish to
have anything to do with a man who had broken a good father's heart,
and that everything had been left to him.

But with that letter there came another, one written by a faithful old
servant, enclosing a will. Lord Stephen had made that will just before
he died, and had entrusted it to his old retainer; so that if ever his
son, whom he had forgiven, should come back, he should have his own
again.

Then Mr. Rexworth had started for England with Ralph, but he had not
told his son anything of the business which took him there; and when at
last they had reached Stow Ormond he had left the boy at the _Horse and
Wheel_ with old Simon, and had started off for Castle Court.

And an angry, disappointed man was Lord Elgert when he found that his
cousin was to take from him everything which he had schemed to gain.

"He had nothing to say," said Mr. Rexworth, "but he looked very strange
as I left--as if he would have liked to kill me. I had told him that
no one knew who I really was, and that my own son was ignorant of the
truth. It was a foolish thing to have done, for it meant that if I were
out of the way, no one would know anything about the business which had
brought me home.

"It was dark and cheerless, and I was anxious to get back to you,
Ralph, so I took the short cut through Stow Wood past the black mere;
and just as I reached the pond I was startled by some one firing at me
from behind a tree. The first shot missed, but the second struck my arm
and broke the bone. It has never been properly set, and has caused me
much pain.

"I must have fainted, for when I recovered my senses I was a prisoner
in a strange place--the very house in which you found me. My cousin's
first intention had been to kill me; but when he found that he had
failed, his courage wavered, and he had me taken to that place and put
that man to guard me. He promised to set me free if I would give him
the will, but that I would not do. I had taken the precaution to leave
that in London with a lawyer I had known in my younger days, and there
it is now.

"Lord Elgert's next offer was to set me free if I would sign away half
the property to him; but that I also refused to do. The man used to
urge him to kill me, but he seemed possessed with the fear that you,
Ralph, would find it out if he did so.

"Then one day when I felt very depressed and ill and on the point of
yielding, I heard your old call, and I answered it, and I knew that you
had in some way got on my track. And Lord Elgert found that out also,
for yesterday he came to take me away to another hiding-place, and I
refused to go. We struggled, and again your call came, and that made
him desperate. The rest of the story you know, my dear boy. And now you
must tell me how you managed to get on my track."

So Ralph told his story, and then Mr. Charlton explained how he had,
whilst hiding in the old ruin, become convinced that Lord Elgert held
some one prisoner in that strange house, and on the very day when
Ralph had gone to take his chum's message, he had stolen out to watch.
Mr. Charlton had seen Ralph go in, and had watched until both Lord
Elgert and his man came out; then, perplexed and fearing foul play,
he had stood there until the flames burst out, and that sight had
dispelled his fear of the dogs and sent him to the rescue.

And then, when the police had arrived and had taken their prisoner
again, Mr. St. Clive had come after him, not only with that diary,
but with the man who had written it, and who confessed that he had
committed the offence at the instigation of Lord Elgert, who had a
spite against Mr. Charlton.

The innocent man was soon set free after that, and was able to rejoin
his wife and his son openly and without any fear.

But Lord Elgert? Ah, that was the one thing that made Mr. Rexworth sad.
He would have forgiven his cousin if he could, much as he had suffered
at his hands, but the law would not allow that. Lord Elgert had been
arrested, and the miserable Horace, together with his partner in
disgrace, Dobson, had run away, and no one knew where they were.

But they were found, for Mr. Dobson set a detective on their track,
and they were brought back, a pair of sorry-looking objects, dirty and
ragged.

Mr. Dobson immediately apprenticed his son to a firm of shipowners,
and sent him off to sea; and Mr. Rexworth, seeing that Horace had no
friend, did the same for his nephew, hoping that in his new life
he would become a true and good man. Ralph would have been friendly
to Horace at their parting, but the proud boy would not accept his
friendship. Later on they heard that he had deserted his ship when it
got to Australia, and after that they heard no more of him.

And so punishment overtook those who had done evil, and patience and
truth reaped their reward at last, as they ever must in the end;
and Ralph Rexworth was the Hon. Ralph Rexworth Stephen amongst his
schoolfellows, for Mr. Rexworth thought that it would do him no harm to
stay at the good doctor's school for a little while before he went to
college.

Yes, he was "the Honourable." Indeed, he had been the Honourable all
the time in the true sense of the word. He did not put on any airs--our
Ralph could not have done that if he had tried--and he and Charlton and
honest old Tom Warren were three of the staunchest chums that ever you
met with--always together, and all three working for the good of the
Fourth; so that when they were promoted to the Fifth, Mr. Delermain
said that it was one of the greatest losses he had received, and that
the best influences in his class had all been taken away together.

"But," some of my readers may ask, "did Ralph Rexworth win the Newlet?"
I declare that I had nearly forgotten that. He did win it; and it will
not be a bad idea to finish the story by having a peep at him when he
received it.

Of course, that was on breaking-up day. What a lovely day that always
is, especially when you know that you have a good report to take home,
and some prizes to carry away with you.

The great hall at Marlthorpe was decorated with flags, and crowded with
visitors; while on the platform, which had been constructed at one
end, all the boys were gathered, class by class, and in the middle of
them was the Head's chair, and the masters' seats, and a place for the
speakers--and there was Mr. Rexworth among the speakers!

Well, there they all were; and the Head read his report; and they all
clapped and shouted at the part where it said that for the second year
in succession, Marlthorpe had the honour of carrying off the Newlet.

"Good old Rexworth!" shouted one boy. And the Head had to cry order
sharply; whereat Jimmy Green nudged Tinkle and said "Shut up, you
silly!" so it must have been Tinkle who shouted.

And then there were the speeches, and then the recitations; and Tinkle
and Green were most wonderfully impressive in the quarrel between
Brutus and Cassius--only just at the part where Brutus had to say "Take
this dagger," he found he had no dagger with him; and Cassius said very
rudely, and quite out loud, so that every one could hear it--

"You silly owl! I knew you would forget it; and I made such a lovely
one, with silver foil for a blade."

"Imagine the dagger," whispered Mr. Rexworth, his face red with
laughter. And the dagger being imagined, the quarrel went on, and was
made up in the most approved fashion.

And then, recitations over, there came a short pause--an impressive