The Fifth Form at Saint Dominic's Part 66

Mr Loman then followed up his advantage by finding out all he could about the companions whom his son had been in the habit of meeting on the occasion of his visits to the c.o.c.kchafer. What were their names, occupations, addresses, and so on? Cripps, if any one had told him twenty-four hours ago that he would be meekly divulging all this information to any one in his own house, would have scoffed at the idea.

But there was something about Mr Loman's voice, and Mr Loman's eye, and Mr Loman's note-book, which was too much for the publican, and he submitted like a lamb.

In due time the ordeal was over, and Mr Loman said he would now go and call upon these young gentlemen, and see what they had to say, and that Mr Cripps would most likely hear from him again.

Altogether the landlord of the c.o.c.kchafer had hardly ever pa.s.sed such an uncomfortable morning.

Meanwhile the other searchers, among whom were Oliver and Wraysford, were busy.

For a whole day there came no news of the missing boy. No one could be met who had seen him or heard of him. Neither in Maltby nor up the river, nor in the country roads round, could any tidings of him be found. Towards evening those who remained anxiously behind began to entertain fresh fears. Had the boy been merely running away, some one would surely have seen him or heard of him. Had anything worse happened to him?

Mr Loman and the police-inspector paid a hurried visit to the boathouse. Had the boy been there? No, no one had been there for two days. They followed the paths through the woods, asking at every cottage and stopping every pa.s.ser-by. But no, no one knew anything. No boat had pa.s.sed through the lock, no pa.s.senger on foot had gone past it.

The night came, and with it most of the searchers returned, dejected and worn-out.

The school was strangely silent. Not a sound could be heard in the pa.s.sages or cla.s.s-rooms. Nothing but the heavy rain, which now began to fall dismally upon the roof and windows of the old school-house.

Boys who heard it shuddered, and their minds went out into the dark wet night after their lost schoolfellow, wherever he might be.

Where was he now? they wondered, and how was he faring?

"Has Greenfield returned?" asked the Doctor, as about ten o'clock the masters and Mr Loman met for the mockery of supper in the head master's study.

"No," said Mr Jellicott. "I have just been inquiring. He has not returned."

"Strange," said the Doctor; "which direction did he take?"

"Up towards Grandham," said Wraysford; "we went together as far as the cross roads, and then I went off on the Dallingford road and back by the river."

"He ought to be back now," said the Doctor, looking concerned.

"There is no railway or coach from Grandham," suggested Mr Rastle; "he would have to walk back most likely."

"And in this rain!" said the Doctor.

"Perhaps," said Wraysford, "he may have heard something."

It was a cheery suggestion. If it could but be true!

"He would have telegraphed," said Mr Loman.

"There is no telegraph office there," said the Doctor; "the Grandham people have to come here or to Dallingford to telegraph."

They waited an hour, but Oliver did not return.

The night became more and more stormy. The bleak February wind whistled among the chimneys, and the hard rain beat pitilessly at the windows and on the gravel walk outside.

The Doctor rose and pulled up the blind and looked out. It was a dreary prospect. The rain had turned to sleet, and the wind was growing fast to a gale. The trees round the house creaked and groaned beneath it.

"It is a dreadful night," said the Doctor. "Those two poor boys!"

No one else said anything. The storm grew fiercer and fiercer. Boys in their dormitories sit up in bed and listened to the roar of the wind as it howled round the house. And that silent party in the Doctor's study never once thought of seeking rest. Midnight came; but no Oliver, no Loman--and the storm as furious as ever.

Presently there came a soft knock at the door, which made every one start suddenly as the door opened.

It was Stephen in his night-s.h.i.+rt. He, like every one else, had been awakened by the storm. Oliver was the monitor of his dormitory; and now for the first time the boy missed his elder brother. Where was Oliver?

he asked. No one could say. He had been out all day, and no one had seen him since he got back.

This was enough for Stephen. With bounding heart and quivering lips he sprang from his bed and hurried down stairs. There was a light in the Doctor's study; and there he went.

The boy's alarm and terror on hearing that his brother had not returned was piteous to see. He begged to be allowed to go and look for him, and only the Doctor's authoritative command could put him from this purpose.

But nothing would induce him to return to bed; so Wraysford fetched him an ulster to keep out the cold.

The night wore on, by inches; and the storm raged outside with unabated wildness.

More than once the impulse had seized Wraysford to sally out at all risks and look for his friend. But what _could_ one do in a night like this, with a blinding sleet full in one's face, and a wind which mocked all attempts at progress or shouting!

No, there was nothing for it but to sit patiently and await daylight.

One, two, three o'clock came, and still nothing but the storm. Stephen crouched closer up beside Wraysford, and the elder boy, as he put his arm round the younger, could feel how his chest heaved, and how his teeth chattered.

"You're cold, old boy," said he, kindly.

"No, I'm not, Wray," said the boy, with a gulp; "but don't talk, Wray, I--"

The next instant Stephen, with a sudden cry, had bounded to his feet and rushed to the window.

"Some one called!" he cried.

CHAPTER THIRTY SEVEN.

FOUND!

The little company of watchers sprang to their feet with one accord and listened, as Stephen wildly flung up the window. The storm burst into the room as he did so, with all its vehemence, drenching those who stood near, and deafening every one with its roar. But no other sound could be heard. Stephen, heedless of the weather, stood motionless with his head out of the window, listening. Alas! it must have been a false hope after all--a brother's fancy.

"A mistake, I fear," said Dr Senior. "Greenfield, I think you had better close the window. It will be daylight in--"

He had not time to finish his sentence, for with a sudden exclamation and a shout of, "There it is again; come, Wray!" the boy had leapt from the low window, half clad as he was, into the garden.

For Wraysford to follow him was the work of an instant Mr Rastle and Roach the porter did the same, while the others went hurriedly out into the pa.s.sage to the hall door. Close as they were to one another, Wraysford lost sight of Stephen for a moment in the blinding sleet which dashed full in their faces. But he heard him shouting a few yards off, and was at his side the same moment.

"No use shouting," said he, "against the wind."

"I _must_ shout!" exclaimed Stephen, calling out once more.

"Where--what did you hear?" asked Wraysford.

"Some one shouting. I'm positive of it!" said the boy, plunging forward.