01 The Pothunters Read online

  ‘… nine … ten.’

  The timekeeper closed his watch.

  ‘Graham wins,’ said the referee, ‘look after that man there.’

  [2]

  THIEVES BREAK IN AND STEAL

  It was always the custom for such Austinians as went up to represent the School at the annual competition to stop the night in the town. It was not, therefore, till just before breakfast on the following day that Tony arrived back at his House. The boarding Houses at St Austin’s formed a fringe to the School grounds. The two largest were the School House and Merevale’s. Tony was at Merevale’s. He was walking up from the station with Welch, another member of Merevale’s, who had been up to Aldershot as a fencer, when, at the entrance to the School grounds, he fell in with Robinson, his fag. Robinson was supposed by many (including himself) to be a very warm man for the Junior Quarter, which was a handicap race, especially as an injudicious Sports Committee had given him ten yards’ start on Simpson, whom he would have backed himself to beat, even if the positions had been reversed. Being a wise youth, however, and knowing that the best of runners may fail through under-training, he had for the last week or so been going in for a steady course of over-training, getting up in the small hours and going for before-breakfast spins round the track on a glass of milk and a piece of bread. Master R. Robinson was nothing if not thorough in matters of this kind.

  But today things of greater moment than the Sports occupied his mind. He had news. He had great news. He was bursting with news, and he hailed the approach of Tony and Welch with pleasure. With any other leading light of the School he might have felt less at ease, but with Tony it was different. When you have underdone a fellow’s eggs and overdone his toast and eaten the remainder for a term or two, you begin to feel that mere social distinctions and differences of age no longer form a barrier.

  Besides, he had news which was absolutely fresh, news to which no one could say pityingly: ‘What! Have you only just heard that!’

  ‘Hullo, Graham,’ he said. ‘Have you come back?’ Tony admitted that he had. ‘Jolly good for getting the Middles.’ (A telegram had, of course, preceded Tony.) ‘I say, Graham, do you know what’s happened? There’ll be an awful row about it. Someone’s been and broken into the Pav.’

  ‘Rot! How do you know?’

  ‘There’s a pane taken clean out. I booked it in a second as I was going past to the track.’

  ‘Which room?’

  ‘First Fifteen. The window facing away from the Houses.’

  ‘That’s rum,’ said Welch. ‘Wonder what a burglar wanted in the First room. Isn’t even a hair-brush there generally.’

  Robinson’s eyes dilated with honest pride. This was good. This was better than he had looked for. Not only were they unaware of the burglary, but they had not even an idea as to the recent event which had made the First room so fit a hunting-ground for the burgling industry. There are few pleasures keener than the pleasure of telling somebody something he didn’t know before.

  ‘Great Scott,’ he remarked, ‘haven’t you heard? No, of course you went up to Aldershot before they did it. By Jove.’

  ‘Did what?’

  ‘Why, they shunted all the Sports prizes from the Board Room to the Pav. and shot ‘em into the First room. I don’t suppose there’s one left now. I should like to see the Old Man’s face when he hears about it. Good mind to go and tell him now, only he’d have a fit. Jolly exciting, though, isn’t it?’

  ‘Well,’ said Tony, ‘of all the absolutely idiotic things to do! Fancy putting—there must have been at least fifty pounds’ worth of silver and things. Fancy going and leaving all that overnight in the Pav!’

  ‘Rotten!’ agreed Welch. ‘Wonder whose idea it was.’

  ‘Look here, Robinson,’ said Tony, ‘you’d better buck up and change, or you’ll be late for brekker. Come on, Welch, we’ll go and inspect the scene of battle.’

  Robinson trotted off, and Welch and Tony made their way to the Pavilion. There, sure enough, was the window, or rather the absence of window. A pane had been neatly removed, evidently in the orthodox way by means of a diamond.

  ‘May as well climb up and see if there’s anything to be seen,’ said Welch.

  ‘All right,’ said Tony, ‘give us a leg up. Right-ho. By Jove, I’m stiff.’

  ‘See anything?’

  ‘No. There’s a cloth sort of thing covering what I suppose are the prizes. I see how the chap, whoever he was, got in. You’ve only got to break the window, draw a couple of bolts, and there you are. Shall I go in and investigate?’

  ‘Better not. It’s rather the thing, I fancy, in these sorts of cases, to leave everything just as it is.’

  ‘Rum business,’ said Tony, as he rejoined Welch on terra firma. ‘Wonder if they’ll catch the chap. We’d better be getting back to the House now. It struck the quarter years ago.’

  When Tony, some twenty minutes later, shook off the admiring crowd who wanted a full description of yesterday’s proceedings, and reached his study, he found there James Thomson, brother to Allen Thomson, as the playbills say. Jim was looking worried. Tony had noticed it during breakfast, and had wondered at the cause. He was soon enlightened.

  ‘Hullo, Jim,’ said he. ‘What’s up with you this morning? Feeling chippy?’

  ‘No. No, I’m all right. I’m in a beastly hole though. I wanted to talk to you about it.’

  ‘Weigh in, then. We’ve got plenty of time before school.’

  ‘It’s about this Aldershot business. How on earth did you manage to lick Allen like that? I thought he was a cert.’

  ‘Yes, so did I. The ‘ole thing there, as Dawkins ‘ud say, was, I knocked him out. It’s the sort of thing that’s always happening. I wasn’t in it at all except during the second round, when I gave him beans rather in one of the corners. My aunt, it was warm while it lasted. First round, I didn’t hit him once. He was better than I thought he’d be, and I knew from experience he was pretty good.’

  ‘Yes, you look a bit bashed.’

  ‘Yes. Feel it too. But what’s the row with you?’

  ‘Just this. I had a couple of quid on Allen, and the rotter goes and gets licked.’

  ‘Good Lord. Whom did you bet with?’

  ‘With Allen himself.’

  ‘Mean to say Allen was crock enough to bet against himself? He must have known he was miles better than anyone else in. He’s got three medals there already.’

  ‘No, you see his bet with me was only a hedge. He’d got five to four or something in quids on with a chap in his House at Rugby on himself. He wanted a hedge because he wasn’t sure about his ankle being all right. You know he hurt it. So I gave him four to one in half-sovereigns. I thought he was a cert, with apologies to you.’

  ‘Don’t mention it. So he was a cert. It was only the merest fluke I managed to out him when I did. If he’d hung on to the end, he’d have won easy. He’d been scoring points all through.’

  ‘I know. So The Sportsman says. Just like my luck.’

  ‘I can’t see what you want to bet at all for. You’re bound to come a mucker sooner or later. Can’t you raise the two quid?’

  ‘I’m broke except for half a crown.’

  ‘I’d lend it to you like a shot if I had it, of course. But you don’t find me with two quid to my name at the end of term. Won’t Allen wait?’

  ‘He would if it was only him. But this other chap wants his oof badly for something and he’s leaving and going abroad or something at the end of term. Anyhow, I know he’s keen on getting it. Allen told me.’

  Tony pondered for a moment. ‘Look here,’ he said at last, ‘can’t you ask your pater? He usually heaves his money about pretty readily, doesn’t he?’

  ‘Well, you see, he wouldn’t send me two quid off the reel without wanting to know all about it, and why I couldn’t get on to the holidays with five bob, and I’d either have to fake up a lot of lies, which I’m not going to do—’

  ‘Of course not.’
>
  ‘Or else I must tell him I’ve been betting.’

  ‘Well, he bets himself, doesn’t he?’

  ‘That’s just where the whole business slips up,’ replied Jim, prodding the table with a pen in a misanthropic manner. ‘Betting’s the one thing he’s absolutely down on. He got done rather badly once a few years ago. Believe he betted on Orme that year he got poisoned. Anyhow he’s always sworn to lynch us if we made fools of ourselves that way. So if I asked him, I’d not only get beans myself, besides not getting any money out of him, but Allen would get scalped too, which he wouldn’t see at all.’

  ‘Yes, it’s no good doing that. Haven’t you any other source of revenue?’

  ‘Yes, there’s just one chance. If that doesn’t come off, I’m done. My pater said he’d give me a quid for every race I won at the sports. I got the half yesterday all right when you were up at Aldershot.’

  ‘Good man. I didn’t hear about that. What time? Anything good?’

  ‘Nothing special. 2-7 and three-fifths.’

  ‘That’s awfully good. You ought to pull off the mile, too, I should think.’

  ‘Yes, with luck. Drake’s the man I’m afraid of. He’s done it in 4-48 twice during training. He was second in the half yesterday by about three yards, but you can’t tell anything from that. He sprinted too late.’

  ‘What’s your best for the mile?’

  ‘I have done 4-47, but only once. 4-48’s my average, so there’s nothing to choose between us on paper.’

  ‘Well, you’ve got more to make you buck up than he has. There must be something in that.’

  ‘Yes, by Jove. I’ll win if I expire on the tape. I shan’t spare myself with that quid on the horizon.’

  ‘No. Hullo, there’s the bell. We must buck up. Going to Charteris’ gorge tonight?’

  ‘Yes, but I shan’t eat anything. No risks for me.’

  ‘Rusks are more in your line now. Come on.’

  And, in the excitement of these more personal matters, Tony entirely forgot to impart the news of the Pavilion burglary to him.

  [3]

  AN UNIMPORTANT BY-PRODUCT

  The news, however, was not long in spreading. Robinson took care of that. On the way to school he overtook his friend Morrison, a young gentleman who had the unique distinction of being the rowdiest fag in Ward’s House, which, as any Austinian could have told you, was the rowdiest house in the School.

  ‘I say, Morrison, heard the latest?’

  ‘No, what?’

  ‘Chap broke into the Pav. last night.’

  ‘Who, you?’

  ‘No, you ass, a regular burglar. After the Sports prizes.’

  ‘Look here, Robinson, try that on the kids.’

  ‘Just what I am doing,’ said Robinson.

  This delicate reference to Morrison’s tender years had the effect of creating a disturbance. Two School House juniors, who happened to be passing, naturally forsook all their other aims and objects and joined the battle.

  ‘What’s up?’ asked one of them, dusting himself hastily as they stopped to take breath. It was always his habit to take up any business that might attract his attention, and ask for explanations afterwards.

  ‘This kid—’ began Morrison.

  ‘Kid yourself, Morrison.’

  ‘This lunatic, then.’ Robinson allowed the emendation to pass. ‘This lunatic’s got some yarn on about the Pav. being burgled.’

  ‘So it is. Tell you I saw it myself.’

  ‘Did it yourself, probably.’

  ‘How do you know, anyway? You seem so jolly certain about it.’

  ‘Why, there’s a pane of glass cut out of the window in the First room.’

  ‘Shouldn’t wonder, you know,’ said Dimsdale, one of the two School House fags, judicially, ‘if the kid wasn’t telling the truth for once in his life. Those pots must be worth something. Don’t you think so, Scott?’

  Scott admitted that there might be something in the idea, and that, however foreign to his usual habits, Robinson might on this occasion be confining himself more or less to strict fact.

  ‘There you are, then,’ said Robinson, vengefully. ‘Shows what a fat lot you know what you’re talking about, Morrison.’

  ‘Morrison’s a fool,’ said Scott. ‘Ever since he got off the bottom bench in form there’s been no holding him.’

  ‘All the same,’ said Morrison, feeling that matters were going against him, ‘I shan’t believe it till I see it.’

  ‘What’ll you bet?’ said Robinson.

  ‘I never bet,’ replied Morrison with scorn.

  ‘You daren’t. You know you’d lose.’

  ‘All right, then, I’ll bet a penny I’m right.’ He drew a deep breath, as who should say, ‘It’s a lot of money, but it’s worth risking it.’

  ‘You’ll lose that penny, old chap,’ said Robinson. ‘That’s to say,’ he added thoughtfully, ‘if you ever pay up.’

  ‘You’ve got us as witnesses,’ said Dimsdale. ‘We’ll see that he shells out. Scott, remember you’re a witness.

  ‘Right-ho,’ said Scott.

  At this moment the clock struck nine, and as each of the principals in this financial transaction, and both the witnesses, were expected to be in their places to answer their names at 8.58, they were late. And as they had all been late the day before and the day before that, they were presented with two hundred lines apiece. Which shows more than ever how wrong it is to bet.

  The news continuing to circulate, by the end of morning school it was generally known that a gang of desperadoes, numbering at least a hundred, had taken the Pavilion down, brick by brick, till only the foundations were left standing, and had gone off with every jot and tittle of the unfortunately placed Sports prizes.

  At the quarter-to-eleven interval, the School had gone en masse to see what it could see, and had stared at the window with much the same interest as they were wont to use in inspecting the First Eleven pitch on the morning of a match—a curious custom, by the way, but one very generally observed.

  Then the official news of the extent of the robbery was spread abroad. It appeared that the burglar had by no means done the profession credit, for out of a vast collection of prizes ranging from the vast and silver Mile Challenge Cup to the pair of fives-gloves with which the ‘under twelve’ disciple of Deerfoot was to be rewarded, he had selected only three. Two of these were worth having, being the challenge cup for the quarter and the non-challenge cup for the hundred yards, both silver, but the third was a valueless flask, and the general voice of the School was loud in condemning the business abilities of one who could select his swag in so haphazard a manner. It was felt to detract from the merit of the performance. The knowing ones, however, gave it as their opinion that the man must have been frightened by something, and so was unable to give the matter his best attention and do himself justice as a connoisseur.

  ‘We had a burglary at my place once,’ began Reade, of Philpott’s House. ‘The man—’

  ‘That rotter, Reade,’ said Barrett, also of Philpott’s, ‘has been telling us that burglary chestnut of his all the morning. I wish you chaps wouldn’t encourage him.’

  ‘Why, what was it? First I’ve heard of it, at any rate.’ Dallas and Vaughan, of Ward’s, added themselves to the group. ‘Out with it, Reade,’ said Vaughan.

  ‘It’s only a beastly reminiscence of Reade’s childhood,’ said Barrett. ‘A burglar got into the wine-cellar and collared all the coals.’

  ‘He didn’t. He was in the hall, and my pater got his revolver—’

  ‘While you hid under the bed.’

  ‘—and potted at him over the banisters.’

  ‘The last time but three you told the story, your pater fired through the keyhole of the dining-room.’

  ‘You idiot, that was afterwards.’

  ‘Oh, well, what does it matter? Tell us something fresh.’

  ‘It’s my opinion,’ said Dallas, ‘that Ward did it. A man of the vilest antecede
nts. He’s capable of anything from burglary—’

  ‘To attempted poisoning. You should see what we get to eat in Ward’s House,’ said Vaughan.

  ‘Ward’s the worst type of beak. He simply lives for the sake of booking chaps. If he books a chap out of bounds it keeps him happy for a week.’

  ‘A man like that’s bound to be a criminal of sorts in his spare time. It’s action and reaction,’ said Vaughan.

  Mr Ward happening to pass at this moment, the speaker went on to ask Dallas audibly if life was worth living, and Dallas replied that under certain conditions and in some Houses it was not.

  Dallas and Vaughan did not like Mr Ward. Mr Ward was not the sort of man who inspires affection. He had an unpleasant habit of ‘jarring’, as it was called. That is to say, his conversation was shaped to one single end, that of trying to make the person to whom he talked feel uncomfortable. Many of his jars had become part of the School history. There was a legend that on one occasion he had invited his prefects to supper, and regaled them with sausages. There was still one prefect unhelped. To him he addressed himself.

  ‘A sausage, Jones?’

  ‘If you please, sir.’

  ‘No, you won’t, then, because I’m going to have half myself.’

  This story may or may not be true. Suffice it to say, that Mr Ward was not popular.

  The discussion was interrupted by the sound of the bell ringing for second lesson. The problem was left unsolved. It was evident that the burglar had been interrupted, but how or why nobody knew. The suggestion that he had heard Master R. Robinson training for his quarter-mile, and had thought it was an earthquake, found much favour with the junior portion of the assembly. Simpson, on whom Robinson had been given start in the race, expressed an opinion that he, Robinson, ran like a cow. At which Robinson smiled darkly, and advised the other to wait till Sports Day and then he’d see, remarking that, meanwhile, if he gave him any of his cheek he might not be well enough to run at all.