The Pothunters, P. G. Wodehouse [best contemporary novels .TXT] 📗
- Author: P. G. Wodehouse
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'Ah, Thomson,' he said, 'I was looking for you. The Headmaster wants to see you over at his House, if you are feeling well enough after your exertions. Very close thing, that mile. I don't know when I have seen a better-run race on the College grounds. I suppose you are feeling pretty tired, eh?'
'I am rather, sir, but I had better see the Head. Will he be in his study, sir?'
'Yes, I think so.'
Jim took his cap and went off, while Merevale settled down to spend the evening in Tony's study, as he often did when the term's work was over, and it was no longer necessary to keep up the pretence of preparation.
Parker, the Head's butler, conducted Jim into the presence.
'Sit down, Thomson,' said the Head.
Jim took a seat, and he had just time to notice that his namesake, Mr Thompson, was also present, and that, in spite of the fact that his tie had crept up to the top of his collar, he was looking quite unnecessarily satisfied with himself, when he became aware that the Head was speaking to him.
'I hope you are not feeling any bad effects from your race, Thomson?'
Jim was half inclined to say that his effects were nil, but he felt that the quip was too subtle, and would be lost on his present audience, so he merely said that he was not. There was a rather awkward silence for a minute. Then the Head coughed, and said:
'Thomson.'
'Yes, sir.'
'I think it would be fairest to you to come to the point at once, and to tell you the reason why I wished to see you.'
Jim ran over the sins which shot up in his mind like rockets as he heard these ominous words, and he knew that this must be the matter of the Pavilion. He was, therefore, in a measure prepared for the Head's next words.
'Thomson.'
'Yessir.'
'A very serious charge has been brought against you. You are accused of nothing less than this unfortunate burglary of the prizes for the Sports.'
'Yes, sir. Is my accuser Mr Thompson?'
The Headmaster hesitated for a moment, and Mr Thompson spoke. 'That is so,' he said.
'Yes,' said the Head, 'the accusation is brought by Mr Thompson.'
'Yes, sir,' said Jim again, and this time the observation was intended to convey the meaning, 'My dear, good sir, when you've known him as long as I have, you won't mind what Mr Thompson says or does. It's a kind of way he's got, and if he's not under treatment for it, he ought to be.'
'I should like to hear from your own lips that the charge is groundless.'
'Anything to oblige,' thought Jim. Then aloud, 'Yes, sir.'
'You say it is groundless?' This from Mr Thompson.
'Yes, sir.'
'I must warn you, Thomson, that the evidence against you is very strong indeed,' said the Head. 'Without suggesting that you are guilty of this thing, I think I ought to tell you that if you have any confession to make, it will be greatly, very greatly, to your own advantage to make it at once.'
'And give myself away, free, gratis and for nothing,' thought Jim. 'Not for me, thank you.'
'Might I hear Mr Thompson's evidence, sir?' he asked.
'Certainly, Thomson.' He effected a movement in Mr Thompson's direction, midway between a bow and a nod.
Mr Thompson coughed. Jim coughed, too, in the same key. This put Mr Thompson out, and he had to cough again.
'In the first place,' he began, 'it has been conclusively proved that the burglary was the work of an unskilful hand.'
'That certainly seems to point to me as the author,' said Jim flippantly.
'Silence, Thomson,' said the Head, and counsel for the prosecution resumed.
'In the second place, it has been proved that you were at the time of the burglary in great need of money.'
This woke Jim up. It destroyed that feeling of coolness with which he had started the interview. Awful thoughts flashed across his mind. Had he been seen at the time of his burglarious entry? At any rate, how did Mr Thompson come to know of his pecuniary troubles?
'Did you say it had been proved, sir?'
'Yes.'
'How, sir?'
He felt the question was a mistake as he was uttering it. Your really injured innocent would have called all the elements to witness that he was a millionaire. But it was too late to try that now. And, besides, he really did want to know how Mr Thompson had got to hear of this skeleton in his cupboard.
The Headmaster interrupted hurriedly. 'It is a very unfortunate affair altogether, and this is quite the most unfortunate part. A letter came to the College addressed to J. Thomson, and Mr Thompson opened and read it inadvertently. Quite inadvertently.'
'Yes, sir,' said Jim, in a tone which implied, 'I am no George Washington myself, but when you say he read it inadvertently, well—'
'This letter was signed "Allen"—'
'My brother, sir.'
'Exactly. And it asked for two pounds. Evidently in payment of a debt, and the tone of the letter certainly seemed to show that you were not then in possession of the money.'
'Could I have the letter, sir?' Then with respectful venom to Mr Thompson: 'If you have finished with it.' The letter was handed over, and pocketed, and Jim braced his moral pecker up for the next round of the contest.
'I take it, then, Thomson,' resumed the Head, 'that you owe your brother this money?'
'Yes, sir.'
'Two pounds is a great deal of money for one boy to lend another.'
'It was not lent, sir. It was a bet.'
'A bet!' in a nasty tone from the Head.
'A bet!' in a sepulchral echo from Mr Thompson.
There was a long pause.
'At any other time,' said the Head, 'I should feel it my duty to take serious notice of this, but beside this other matter with which you are charged, it becomes trivial. I can only repeat that the circumstances are exceedingly suspicious, and I think it would be in your interests to tell
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