Follow My leader Part 20

"Never mind," said Cresswell, shortly.

This was a rebuff, certainly; but d.i.c.k stuck to his purpose.

"Heathcote asked me," he said. "He's Pledge's f.a.g, and everybody says to him he'll come to grief like Forbes; and he doesn't know what they mean."

"You gave your chum my message, did you?" said Cresswell.

"Oh, yes; and, do you know, the other evening he had a letter thrown into him, he doesn't know where from, saying the same thing?"

Cresswell whistled, and stared at his f.a.g.

"Was it signed 'Junius,' and done up in a ball?" he asked, excitedly.

"Yes. Did _you_ send it?"

"And was it in printed letters, so that n.o.body could tell the writing?"

"Yes. Do you know about it, I say?"

"No," said Cresswell; "no more does anybody. Your chum's had a letter from the ghost!"

"The what?"

"The Templeton ghost, my boy."

"I don't believe in ghosts," said d.i.c.k.

"That's all right. No more do I. But those who do, say its a bad sign to get a letter from ours. Forbes got one early last term."

"Do you really mean--?" began d.i.c.k.

"I mean," said Cresswell, interrupting him, and evidently not enjoying the topic, "I mean that n.o.body knows who writes the letters, or why.

It's been a mystery ever since I came here, three years ago. It happens sometimes twice or thrice a term; and other times perhaps only once in six months."

"What had Heathcote better do?" asked d.i.c.k, feeling anything but rea.s.sured.

"Do! He'd better read the letter. There's no use going and flouris.h.i.+ng it all round the school."

With this small grain of advice d.i.c.k betook himself to his friend, and succeeded in making him more than ever uncomfortable and perplexed. Nor was his perplexity made less when, during the next few days, it leaked out somehow, and spread all over Templeton, that Heathcote had had a letter from the ghost.

Interviewers waited on him from all quarters. Seniors cross-examined him, Fifth-form fellows tried to coax the letter out of him, and the Den called upon him, under threats of "Rule 5," to make a full disclosure of what had befallen him. He had a fair chance of losing his head with all the attention paid him; and, had it not been for Cresswell's advice, emphasised by d.i.c.k, he might, like the a.s.s in the lion's skin, have made himself ridiculous. As it was, he was not more than ordinarily intoxicated by his sudden notoriety, and kept the ghost's letter prudently hidden in his own pocket.

One fellow, and one only besides d.i.c.k, saw it. And that was Pledge.

"What's all this about the ghost?" asked the senior of his f.a.g one evening during preparation in their study. "Is it true you've had a letter?"

"Yes," said Heathcote, very uncomfortably.

"Do you mind letting me see it?"

"I'd rather not, please," said the boy.

"Don't you think it was meant for me to see?" asked Pledge.

Heathcote was puzzled. He had never thought so yet, and wished d.i.c.k was at hand to be consulted.

"I don't think so," he said.

"It says, doesn't it, that you are to be on your guard against me, and that I shall be sure and do you harm, and that the less you see of me the better, eh?"

"Yes; have you seen the letter?"

"No, or I shouldn't ask to see it.--How would you like to have letters written about you like that?"

"Not at all. Do you know who wrote it?"

"No. No one knows. And you believe it, of course?"

"No, I don't," said Heathcote, making up his mind at a bound on a question which had been distracting him for a week.

Pledge seemed neither pleased nor surprised by this avowal.

"Doesn't everybody say you ought to?"

"Perhaps they do," said Heathcote, getting into a corner.

"Doesn't your chum say so?"

"He only goes by what other fellows say."

"You mean Cresswell?"

"I daresay Cresswell may have said something," said the new boy, getting deeper and deeper, and beginning to shuffle in spite of himself.

"You _know_ he has said something," said Pledge, sternly. "The ghost didn't tell you to tell falsehoods, did it?"

"No. Cresswell did say something."

"And you think it was very friendly of him, don't you?"

"No, I don't," said the unhappy Heathcote.

"Is Cresswell very fond of you?" asked Pledge.

"No. I hardly ever saw him."

"Why do you suppose he sent you that message, then?"

"I don't know. Perhaps he's got a spite against you."