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Mildred Arkell Volume Iii Part 20

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"When George Prattleton had his back turned to the table, I saw Rolls blow out the light. He pretended it had gone out of itself, and asked George Prattleton to fetch the matches from the bench at the entrance door. As soon as George Prattleton had gone for them, a light reappeared in the vestry, and I saw Rolls place what looked to be a piece of thick pasteboard behind one of the leaves, and then draw a knife down it and cut it out. He put the leaf and the board and the knife into his pocket, and blew out the candle again.

"Did George Prattleton see nothing of this?"

"No. He was gone for the matches, and when he came back the vestry was in darkness, as he had left it. 'Nothing risk, nothing win; I thought I could do him,' I heard Rolls say to himself."

"After that?"

"After that, when Mr. George Prattleton came back with the matches, Rolls lighted the candle and continued to look over the register, and George Prattleton grumbled at him for being so long. Presently Rolls shut the book and hurrahed, saying that it was not in, and Mr.



Prattleton might put it up again."

"Did you understand what he meant by 'it.' Can you repeat the words he used?"

"I believe I can, or nearly so, for I have thought of them often since.

'It's not in the register, Prattleton,' he said. 'Hurrah! It will be thousands of pounds in our pockets. When the other side brought forth the lame tale that there was such an entry, we thought it a bag of moons.h.i.+ne.' I think that was it."

"What next happened?"

"I saw Rolls hand the book to George Prattleton, and then I went down the church as quietly as I could, and found the key in the door and got out. I hid behind a tombstone, and I saw them both come from the church, and Mr. George Prattleton locked it and put the key in his pocket. I heard them disputing at the door, when they found it open; Rolls accused George Prattleton of unlocking the door when he went to get the matches; and George Prattleton accused Rolls of having neglected to lock it when they entered the church."

"Meanwhile it was you who had unlocked it, to let yourself out?"

"Yes. And I was in too great a hurry, for fear they should see me, to shut it after me."

"A very nicely concocted tale!" sneered Serjeant Siftem, after several more questions had been asked of Henry, and he rose to cross examine.

"You would like the court and jury to believe you, sir?"

"I hope all will believe, who hear me, for it is the truth," he answered, with simplicity. And he had his wish; for all did believe him; and Serjeant Siftem's searching questions, and insinuations that the fancied George Prattleton and Rolls were nothing but ghosts, failed to shake his testimony, or their belief.

The next witness called was Roland Carr Lewis, who had just come into court, marshalled by the second master. A messenger, attended by a javelin man, had been despatched in hot haste to the college schoolroom, demanding the attendance of Roland Lewis. Mr. Roberts, confounded by their appearance, and perplexed by the obscure tale of the messenger, that "two of the college gentlemen, Lewis and another, was found to have had som'at to do with the theft from the register, though not, he b'lieved, in the way of thieving it theirselves," left his desk and his duties, and accompanied Lewis. The head master had been in court all the morning.

"You are in the college school," said Serjeant Wrangle, after Lewis was sworn, and had given his name.

"King's scholar, sir, and third senior," replied Lewis, who could scarcely speak for fright; which was not lessened when he caught sight of the Dean of Westerbury on the bench, next the judge.

"Did you shut up a companion, Henry Cheveley Arkell, in the church of St. James the Less, one afternoon last November, when he had gone in to practise on the organ?"

Lewis wiped his face, and tried to calm his breathing, and glared fearfully towards the bench, but never spoke.

"You have been sworn to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, sir, and you must do so," said the judge, staring at his ugly face, through his gla.s.ses. "Answer the question."

"Y--es."

"What was your motive for doing so?" asked Serjeant Wrangle.

"It was only done in fun. I didn't mean to hurt him."

"Pretty fun!" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed one of the jury, who had a timid boy of his own in the college school, and thought how horrible might be the consequences should he get locked up in St. James's Church.

"How long did you leave him there?"

"I don't know. I took back the key to the clerk's, and the next morning, when we went to let him out, he was gone."

"Who is 'we?' Who was with you?" cried Serjeant Wrangle, catching at the word.

"Mr. George Prattleton. He was at the clerk's in the morning, and I told him about it, and asked him to get the key, for Hunt would not let me have it. So he was coming with me to open the church; but Hunt happened to say that Arkell had just been to his house. He had got out somehow."

When this witness, after a good deal of badgering, was released, Serjeant Siftem, a bright thought having occurred to him, desired that the Reverend Mr. Wilberforce might get into the witness-box. The Reverend Mr. Wilberforce did so; and the serjeant began, in an insinuating tone:

"The witness, Henry Cheveley Arkell, is under your tuition in the collegiate school, I a.s.sume?"

"He is," sternly replied Mr. Wilberforce, who had not forgotten Serjeant Siftem's insult of the previous day.

"Would you believe him on his oath?"

"On his oath, or without it."

"Oh, you would, would you?" retorted the Serjeant. "Schoolboys are addicted to romancing, though."

"Henry Arkell is of strict integrity. His word may be implicitly trusted."

"I can bear testimony to Henry Arkell's honourable and truthful nature,"

spoke up the dean, from his place beside the judge. "His general conduct is exemplary; a pattern to the school."

"Henry Cheveley Arkell," roared out the undaunted Serjeant Siftem, drowning the dean's voice. "I have done with _you_, Mr. Wilberforce." So the master left the witness-box, and Henry re-entered it.

"I omitted to put a question to you, Mr. Chorister," began Serjeant Siftem. "Should you know this fabulous gentleman of your imagination, this Rolls, if you were to see him?"

"Yes," replied Henry. "I saw him this morning as I came into court."

That shut up Serjeant Siftem.

"Where did you see him?" inquired the judge.

"In the outer hall, my lord. He was with Mr. Valentine Carr. But I am not sure that his name is Rolls," added the witness. "When I pointed him out to Mr. Fauntleroy, he was surprised, and said that was Richards, Mynn and Mynn's clerk."

The judge whispered a word to somebody with a white wand, who was standing near him, and that person immediately went hunting about the court to find this Rolls or Richards, and bring him before the judge.

But Rolls had made himself scarce ere the conclusion of Henry Arkell's first evidence; and, as it transpired afterwards, decamped from the town. The next witness put into the box was Mr. George Prattleton.

"You are aware, I presume, of the evidence given by Henry Cheveley Arkell," said Serjeant Wrangle. "Can you deny that part of it which relates to yourself?"

"No, unfortunately I cannot," replied George Prattleton, who was very down in the mouth--as his looks were described by a friend of his in court. "Rolls is a villain."

"That is not evidence, sir," said the judge.

"He is a despicable villain, my lord," returned the witness, giving way to his injured feelings. "He came to Westerbury, pretending to be a stranger, and calling himself Rolls, and I got acquainted with him; that is, he sc.r.a.ped acquaintance with me, and we were soon intimate. Then he began to make use of me; he asked if I would do him a favour. He wanted to get a private sight of the register in St. James's Church. So I consented, I am sorry to say, to get him a private sight; but I made the bargain that he should not copy a single word out of it, and of course I meant to be with him and watch him."

"Did you know that his request had reference to the case of Carr versus Carr?" inquired Serjeant Wrangle.

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Mildred Arkell Volume Iii Part 20 summary

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