Tom Brown's Body

'I happened to be passing the farmyard, sir, and I stopped to admire his dog. A handsome pedigree animal, sir, and, if I am any judge –'

'Sit down,' said Mr Reeder. Scrupe, who seldom obeyed orders from masters without questioning them first, said plaintively:

'Sir, I am sure the farmer mistook me. Do I remind you of anyone?'

'Yes,' said Mr Reeder, who was tired of the lesson and welcomed the chance of a diversion, 'Thurtell and Hunt.'

'Please, sir, who were they?' enquired Biggs, in response to a meaning kick from Scrupe.

'Your education seems to have been neglected,' said Mr Reeder, whose hobby was criminology; and he proceeded, to the ecstasy of the form, to recount a sordid and unedifying history which he terminated only in time to set the boys some preparation before the bell went.

'What was all that about Scrupe and a cockerel?' he enquired of Mr Semple when they met in the quad before lunch. Mr Semple, looking thoroughly uneasy, replied that he had no idea, but that Scrupe, in his opinion, was born to be hanged.

'Oh, I don't know,' argued Mr Reeder, taking the words literally for his own amusement. 'When one goes over the records, don't you know, there seems nothing in Scrupe's character to indicate his bent for a life of crime.'

'Murder isn't a crime,' said Mr Semple, scowling. Marion Pearson was meeting Mr Conway for lunch in the only respectable hostelry the town boasted and was going to play golf with him afterwards. It was Mr Conway's afternoon off, and Mr Conway had taken pains to acquaint the Common Room of his plans.

He kicked the edge of the turf angrily, but Mr Reeder, launched unexpectedly upon his favourite topic, disregarded his companion's state of mind, although this was obvious.

'Interesting that you should say that,' he said, bending to light his pipe which he then took out of his mouth in order to stab into the air the substance and import of his remarks. 'I find that people vary enormously in their approach to murder. Of course, the known motives for it are few, and I must say that I don't find myself in agreement with those who incline to believe that one murder begets another.'

'Don't you?' said Mr Semple, who was in so evil and unusual a frame of mind that he would cheerfully have added Mr Reeder's murder to that of Fate's darling, Mr Conway, could that have been achieved by wishful thinking.

Mr Reeder, unaware that his doom would have been sealed but for Mr Semple's upbringing and inhibitions, babbled cheerily on, and again, unwisely, introduced the subject of Scrupe and the stolen cockerel. At this, Mr Semple snorted with rage and left him, and Mr Reeder had to wait until nearly nine o'clock at night before he obtained the information he required.

'I say, what do you think of Scrupe and the cockerel?' he demanded of Mr Conway, who was proud of his own participation in the riot outside the School gateway.

'Scrupe is a most infernal boy,' interpolated Mr Loveday, 'and I cannot think it was wise to interfere to the extent of indulging in fisticuffs – as I understand a junior member of the staff did – in defence of the lad.'

Mr Conway laughed and made a show of lazily stretching his arms.

'Oh, I don't know,' he remarked, without letting his eyes rest on Mr Loveday. 'Some of us, perhaps, have the courage of our disillusionment. I loathe Scrupe – always have! – but I dislike to see an unequal fight – always have! So, of course, one joined in – from the purest of motives, Loveday, of course – rescue of the perishing and all that. One hopes that one made oneself –'

'Damned conspicuous,' said Mr Semple, neatly.

'What did the Headmaster say?' enquired Mr Tuttle, another of the junior masters and Mr Conway's chief toady rather than crony. Mr Conway threw back his head and laughed loudly.

'Commended my courage and deplored my lack of discretion,' he said. 'He has also interviewed the farmer. I have no further information.'

'It doesn't sound like Scrupe – chicken-stealing,' said Mr Reeder. 'Wonder what his idea was?'

'I think the farmer's barking up the wrong tree,' said Mr Conway who, for all his conceited ill-nature, had a fair understanding of boys. 'Having snatched the young idiot from sudden death, I questioned him. He denies all knowledge of the bird, and, whatever opinion one may hold of his mental powers, I'd say he's no liar.'

'Scrupe is a curiously clever boy,' said Scrupe's Housemaster belligerently.

'Operative word 'curiously', I should imagine,' said Mr Conway with lazy scorn. He disliked all Housemasters on principle, and regarded them as a race of nincompoop partisans where their boys were concerned.

'Indeed!' said Mr Mayhew, Scrupe's particular partisan. 'Allow me to point out to you, Conway –'

'Here's the Old Man!' said Mr Reeder, in what he evidently regarded as an almost inaudible whisper. 'Oh, no! It's only Pearson. Come in, Pearson, old man!' Mr Pearson, the woodwork master, came in.

'Gentlemen,' said he, perfunctorily, and as though he did not believe what he was saying.

'Good evening, Pearson,' said Mr Loveday who, as the oldest member of the resident staff, came forward to do the honours. 'This is a very great pleasure.'

'Thank you,' said Mr Pearson, this time as though he did not believe what Mr Loveday was saying. 'I come not as guest, but as host; only, as your Common Room is considerably more spacious than my drawing-room at home, I trusted that it would not appear out of place for me to request the comfort of your domain for a small – a very small celebration.'

He moved aside, and, to the stupefaction of the entire Common Room, he was discovered to be followed by the Headmaster's butler, parlourmaid, and secretary, all bearing bottles of champagne, and by his own housekeeper, his housemaid, his kitchenmaid, and his jobbing gardener, all carrying trays of glasses.

'Th-thank you very much, Pearson. A very great pleasure, I am sure,' stammered Mr Loveday, feeling that he must be dreaming. 'To what are we indebted – that is to say –'

'It is to say,' said Mr Pearson, with a ghastly attempt at lightheartedness, 'that I desire to felicitate that dear fellow Conway there upon his engagement to Marion, my daughter. I understand that the marriage was arranged yesterday afternoon, and that it was because of his understandable joy and self-esteem that our good Conway interested himself in a dispute from which, I am given to believe, he emerged with great credit. Gentlemen,' concluded Mr Pearson, almost in tears, 'permit me to invite you all to join me in my hearty felicitations.'

Mr Semple and Mr Conway stood with their winking glasses like two men in a dream. Then their eyes met, and they suddenly drained their glasses. Neither tasted the champagne. Mr Kay put his glass down on a side table, and murmured a teetotaller's arrogant, insufferable excuses. Mr Pearson opened another couple of bottles and splashed the wine into the glasses.

'You know,' said Mr Reeder, 'I'm still not satisfied about Scrupe and the cockerel. Wasn't it before Conway went out that he had the fight with the farmer?'

'What on earth does that matter?' enquired Mr Sugg. 'He laid the fellow out, I'm glad to say.'

'Yes – yes, I did,' stammered Mr Conway. All eyes were turned on him. 'Any-anybody else would have done the same. Fellow had a cart-whip, you know, and while I've no doubt a damned good hiding would do Scrupe a world of good, I didn't like the look of the instrument, as the regulations so tactfully call it. So I – well, just sailed in and laid the chap out. That's all.'

'Enough, too, conceited puppy,' growled Mr Loveday to Mr Mayhew, to whom (although they were great rivals as Housemasters) he had turned in the knowledge that Conway was a favourite with neither of them.

'Quite agree, quite,' said Mr Mayhew. 'I've no doubt that Scrupe could have taken care of himself. My boys are not accustomed to molly-coddling.'

Mr Kay muttered something under his breath and walked out.

'I say,' said Mr Reeder in a confidential undertone to Mr Sugg, 'Conway doesn't look as though he'd ever heard of his own engagement until Pearson mentioned it. Did you ever see a fellow more taken aback?'

'I expect he wanted it kept dark for a bit, you know,' said Mr Sugg. 'The governors don't like the men to marry young. They expect them to be at least on the short list for a House before they embark on the holy estate.'

'Ah, that would be it,' agreed Mr Reeder. 'Wonder what made Marion tell her father? Secretive, hard-headed little piece. Always has been, from childhood.'

Mr Semple remained just long enough in the Common Room for his going not to excite comment, and then quietly made his way out. He went straight to Kay's cottage. He knocked at the door, obtained no answer, went round to the window and tapped on that.

There was no light in the room except firelight, but the curtains had not been drawn together, and he could