A Dog with a Bad Name Part 5

"We don't feel sure that it was altogether an accident," said Farfield.

"What! Do you mean that the boy was intentionally injured?"

"Jeffreys might easily have run round him. Anybody else would. He had the whole field to himself, and no one even near him behind."

"But was it not Forrester who got in front of him?"

"Of course he tried to collar him, sir," said Scarfe; "but he's only a little boy, and Jeffreys is a giant. Jeffreys might have fended him off with his arm, as he did the other fellows who had tried to stop him, or he might have run round him. Instead of that,"--and here the speaker's voice trembled with indignation--"he charged dead at him, and ran right over him."

Mr Frampton's face clouded over.

"Jeffreys is a clumsy fellow, is he not?" he asked.

"Yes," said Scarfe; "and if it had been any one else than Forrester, we should all have put it down to his stupidity."

"You mean," said the head-master, "that he had a quarrel with Forrester?"

"He hated Forrester. Every one knew that. Forrester used to make fun of him and enrage him."

"And you mean to tell me you believe this big boy of nineteen, out of revenge, deliberately ran over young Forrester in the way you describe?"

"I'm sure of it, sir," said Farfield unhesitatingly.

"No one doubts it," said Scarfe.

Mr Frampton took an uneasy turn up and down the room. He hated tale- bearers; but this seemed a case in which he was bound to listen and inquire further.

"Scarfe and Farfield," said he, after a long pause, "you know of course as well as I do the nature of the charge you are bringing against your schoolfellow--the most awful charge one human being can bring against another. Are you prepared to repeat all you have said to me in Jeffreys' presence to-morrow, and before the whole school?"

"Certainly, sir," said both boys.

"It was our duty to tell you, sir," said Scarfe; "and only fair to poor young Forrester."

"Nothing less than a sense of duty could justify the bringing of such a terrible accusation," said the head-master, "and I am relieved that you are prepared to repeat it publicly--to-morrow. For to-day, let us thank G.o.d for the hope He gives us of the poor sufferer. Good-bye."

Much as he could have wished it, it was impossible for Mr Frampton, wearied out as he was with his night's watching, to dismiss from his mind the serious statement which his two senior boys had made. The responsibility which rested on him in consequence was terrible, and it required all his courage to face it.

That afternoon he sent for Mr Freshfield, and repeated to him the substance of the accusation against Jeffreys, asking him if he had noticed anything calculated to confirm the suspicion expressed by the boys.

Mr Freshfield was naturally very much startled.

"If you had not mentioned it," he said, "I should never have dreamed of such a thing. But I confess I have noticed that Forrester and Jeffreys were on bad terms. Forrester is a mischievous boy, and Jeffreys, who you know is rather a lout, seems to have been his special b.u.t.t. I am afraid, too, that Jeffreys' short temper rather encouraged his tormentors."

"Yes, but about the accident," said Mr Frampton; "you were on the ground, you know. Did you notice anything then?"

"There was a little horseplay as the sides were changing over at half- time. Forrester, among others, was taunting Jeffreys with a bad piece of play, and threw something at him. I was rather struck by the look almost of fury which pa.s.sed across Jeffreys' face. But it seemed to me he got better of his feelings with an effort and went on without heeding what was said to him."

"That was not long before the accident?"

"About a quarter of an hour. His run down the field at the last was really a good piece of play, and every one seemed surprised. But there was any amount of room and time to get past Forrester instead of charging right on to him. It's possible, of course, he may have lost his head and not seen what he was doing."

Mr Frampton shrugged his shoulders.

"Well," said he with a dejected look, "I wish you could have told me anything but what you have. At any rate, to-morrow morning the matter must be faced and decided upon. Jeffreys is unpopular in the school, is he not?"

"Most unpopular," said Mr Freshfield.

"That will make our responsibility all the greater," said the head- master. "He will have every one's hand against him."

"And you may be quite certain he will do himself injustice. He always does. But what of Forrester?"

"He is conscious, and has taken some nourishment; that is all I can say, except, indeed," added Mr Frampton, with a groan, "that if he lives the doctor says it will be as a cripple."

The day dragged wearily on, and night came at last. Most of the boys, worn-out with their last night's vigil, went to bed and slept soundly.

The doctor, too, leaving his patient in the charge of a trained nurse, specially summoned, returned home, reporting hopefully of the case as he departed.

In two studies at Bolsover that night, however, there was no rest. Far into the night Mr Frampton paced to and fro across the floor. His hopes and ambitions had fallen like a house of cards. The school he had been about to reform and regenerate had sunk in one day lower than ever before. There was something worse than dry-rot in it now. But Mr Frampton was a brave man; and that night he spent in arming himself for the task that lay before him. Yet how he dreaded that scene to-morrow!

How he wished that this hideous nightmare were after all a dream, and that he could awake and find Bolsover where it was even yesterday morning! The other watcher was Jeffreys. He had slept not a wink the night before, and to-night sleep seemed still more impossible. Had you seen him as he sat there listlessly in his chair, with his gaunt, ugly face and restless lips, you would have been inclined, I hope, to pity him, cad as he was. Hour after hour he sat there without changing his posture, cloud after cloud chasing one another across his brow, as they chased one another across the pale face of the moon outside.

At length, as it seemed, with an effort he rose to his feet and slipped off his boots. His candle had burned nearly out, but the moon was bright enough to light his room without it, so he extinguished it and softly opened the door.

The pa.s.sage was silent, the only sounds being the heavy breathing somewhere of a weary boy, and the occasional creaking of a board as he crept along on tip-toe.

At the end of the pa.s.sage he turned aside a few steps to a door, and stood listening. Some one was moving inside. There was the rustle of a dress and the tinkle of a spoon in a cup. Then he heard a voice, and oh, how his heart beat as he listened!

"I'm tired," it said wearily.

That was all. Jeffreys heard the smoothing of a pillow and a woman's soothing whisper hus.h.i.+ng the sufferer to rest.

The drops stood in beads on his brow as he stood there and listened.

In a little all became quiet, and presently a soft, regular breathing told him that some one was sleeping.

He put his hand cautiously to the handle and held it there a minute before he dared turn it. At last he did so, and opened the door a few inches. The breathing went regularly on. Inch by inch he pushed the door back till he could catch a glimpse in the moonlight of the bed, and a dark head of hair on the pillow. An inch or two more, and he could see the whole room and the nurse dozing in the corner. Stealthily, like a thief, he advanced into the room and approached the bed. The sufferer was lying motionless, and still breathing regularly.

Jeffreys took a step forward to look at his face. At that moment the moonlight streamed in at the window and lit up the room. Then, to his terror, he noticed that the patient was awake, and lying with eyes wide open gazing at the ceiling. Suddenly, and before Jeffreys could withdraw, the eyes turned and met his. For an instant they rested there vacantly, then a gasp and a shriek of horror proclaimed that Forrester had recognised him.

In a moment he was outside the door, and had closed it before the nurse started up from her slumber.

He had not been in his study a minute when he heard a sound of footsteps and whispered voices without. The boy's cry had reached the wakeful ears of Mr Frampton, and already he was on his way to the sick-chamber.

Jeffreys sank down on his bed in an agony of terror and suspense. The boy's cry resounded in his ears and deafened him, till at last he could endure it no longer.

Next morning, when the school was gathered in the hall, after prayers, Mr Frampton, looking round him, missed the figure that was uppermost in his thoughts.

"Will some one tell Jeffreys to come here?" he said.

Mr Freshfield went, but returned suddenly to announce that Jeffreys'

study was empty, and that a rope formed of sheets suspended from his window made it evident he had escaped in the night and quitted Bolsover.