The Pothunters, P. G. Wodehouse [digital book reader .TXT] 📗

Friend had had the good sense to close the window after he had climbed through it, and Dallas did not suspect what had actually happened. He returned to Vaughan.

“The Mutual isn’t in either of the studies,” he said. “I didn’t want to spend the evening playing hide-and-seek with him, so I’ve come back.”

“It doesn’t matter, thanks all the same. Later on’ll do just as well.”

“Do you object to the window going up?” asked Dallas. “There’s a bit of a froust on in here.”

“Rather not. Heave it up.”

Dallas hove it. He stood leaning out, looking towards the College buildings, which stood out black and clear against the April sky. From out of the darkness in the direction of Stapleton sounded the monotonous note of a corncrake.

“Jove,” he said, “it’s a grand night. If I was at home now I shouldn’t be cooped up indoors like this.”

“Holidays in another week,” said Vaughan, joining him. “It is ripping, isn’t it? There’s something not half bad in the Coll. buildings on a night like this. I shall be jolly sorry to leave, in spite of Ward and the Mutual.”

“Same here, by Jove. We’ve each got a couple more years, though, if it comes to that. Hullo, prep’s over.”

The sound of footsteps began to be heard from the direction of the College. Nine had struck from the School clock, and the Great Hall was emptying.

“Your turn to read at prayers, Vaughan. Hullo, there’s the Mutual. Didn’t hear him unlock the door. Glad he has, though. Saves us trouble.”

“I must be going down to look up a bit to read. Do you remember when Harper read the same bit six days running? I shall never forget Ward’s pained expression. Harper explained that he thought the passage so beautiful that he couldn’t leave it.”

“Why don’t you try that tip?”

“Hardly. My reputation hasn’t quite the stamina for the test.”

Vaughan left the room. At the foot of the stairs he was met by the matron.

“Will you unlock the door, please, Vaughan,” she said, handing him a bunch of keys. “The boys will be coming in in a minute.”

“Unlock the door?” repeated Vaughan. “I thought it was unlocked. All right.”

“By Jove,” he thought, “the plot thickens. What is our only Plunkett doing out of the House when the door is locked, I wonder.”

Plunkett strolled in with the last batch of the returning crowd, wearing on his face the virtuous look of one who has been snatching a whiff of fresh air after a hard evening’s preparation.

“Oh, I say, Plunkett,” said Vaughan, when they met in the study after prayers, “I wanted to see you. Where have you been?”

“I have been in the junior study. Where did you think I had been?”

“Oh.”

“Do you doubt my word?”

“I’ve the most exaggerated respect for your word, but you weren’t in the junior study at five to nine.”

“No, I went up to my dormitory about that time. You seem remarkably interested in my movements.”

“Only wanted to see you about the House gym team. You might shove up the list tonight. Haynes, Jarvis, and myself.”

“Very well.”

“I didn’t say anything to him,” said Vaughan to Dallas as they were going to their dormitories, “but, you know, there’s something jolly fishy about the Mutual. That door wasn’t unlocked when we saw him outside. I unlocked it myself. Seems to me the Mutual’s been having a little private bust of his own on the quiet.”

“That’s rum. He might have been out by the front way to see one of the beaks, though.”

“Well, even then he would be breaking rules. You aren’t allowed to go out after lockup without House beak’s leave. No, I find him guilty.”

“If only he’d go and get booked!” said Vaughan. “Then he might have to leave. But he won’t. No such luck.”

“No,” said Dallas. “Good night.”

“Good night.”

Certainly there was something mysterious about the matter.

VI Literary Banquet

Charteris and Welch were conversing in the study of which they were the joint proprietors. That is to say, Charteris was talking and playing the banjo alternately, while Welch was deep in a book and refused to be drawn out of it under any pretext. Charteris’ banjo was the joy of his fellows and the bane of his Housemaster. Being of a musical turn and owning a good deal of pocket money, he had, at the end of the summer holidays, introduced the delights of a phonograph into the House. This being vetoed by the Housemaster, he had returned at the beginning of the following term with a penny whistle, which had suffered a similar fate. Upon this he had invested in a banjo, and the dazed Merevale, feeling that matters were getting beyond his grip, had effected a compromise with him. Having ascertained that there was no specific rule at St. Austin’s against the use of musical instruments, he had informed Charteris that if he saw fit to play the banjo before prep only, and regarded the hours between seven and eleven as a close time, all should be forgiven, and he might play, if so disposed, till the crack of doom. To this reasonable request Charteris had promptly acceded, and peace had been restored. Charteris and Welch were a curious pair. Welch spoke very little. Charteris was seldom silent. They were both in the Sixth⁠—Welch high up, Charteris rather low down. In games, Welch was one of those fortunate individuals who are good at everything. He was captain of cricket, and not only captain, but also the best all-round man in the team, which is often a very different matter. He was the best wing three-quarter the School possessed; played fives and racquets like a professor, and only the day before had shared Tony’s glory by winning the silver medal for fencing in the Aldershot competition.

The abilities of Charteris were more ordinary. He was a sound bat, and went in first for the Eleven, and played half for the Fifteen. As regards work, he might have been brilliant if he had chosen, but