Tom Brown's Body

Merrys turned, cannoned into his friend, gulped, and, cramming his cap on to his head, raced back to the hedge beside which they had left the bicycle. Just as they gained it a man loomed up in front of its headlamp and took the path through the open gateway between the ragged bushes.

'Good Lord!' said Merrys. 'Did you see who that was?'

'Of course I did,' said Skene, with the nervous anger of extreme dismay.

'He didn't recognize us, did he? Do you suppose he can pick us out in the morning?'

'Don't know. Hope not. We didn't have our caps on.'

'I did! I pulled it out to knock on that beastly door, and shoved it on when we bolted.'

'I say, you are an ass!'

'Well, who would expect to run into a beak out here at this time of night? Come on. It's no good beefing about it now. I don't honestly think he saw us.'

This opinion, delivered roundly, slightly comforted Skene. They ran with the bicycle down the dark road until they were out of breath.

'Ease up!' gasped Merrys, at last. 'He isn't following us. Where the heck do we go from here?'

They dropped to a walk and then were about to stop and mount when Merrys said, his hand to the breast- pocket of his jacket inside his waterproof coat:

'I've lost my fountain pen!'

'You've probably left it in your locker,' said Skene. 'Come on.'

'No, I haven't, you ass! I had it clipped into my pocket. I always carry it there.'

'Well, it'll have to stay lost,' observed Skene unsympathetically. 'I'm not going back to that beastly cottage to look for a fountain pen, and perhaps run into Spivvy again. Besides, we'd never find it in the dark.'

'But it was a jolly good pen. I had it for Christmas. I'm almost certain I must have dropped it in that garden. I had it out just before that, because it's got a torch at the end.'

'Well, hang it, we can't go back there again!'

'But if the Spiv finds it, we're sunk. It had my name on it, on a band round the barrel, and even an ass like Kay –'

'Oh, Lord!' said Skene, disgusted by this revelation. 'You really are an ass! Oh, well, come on, then. I suppose we'd better go back.'

But when they reached the cottage there were further terrors in store. The light in the little room seemed brighter, and in front of it they could see in silhouette a fiercely gesticulating figure, whose waving arms were casting a gigantic shadow on the blind. Suddenly an arm went through the window. There was the sound of the breaking glass, and then a voice, rough with fury.

'If I have to hang for him, I'll finish him, the swine! Here! Who the devil's that outside? I could swear I heard – oh, blast! I've cut my arm!'

The boys turned tail again.

'Did it sound like the Spiv's voice?' asked Skene, when they were well away from the house. 'Do you think that's who it was?'

'I suppose it must have been. I say, come on! Let's pedal as fast as we can along this road. It must lead somewhere, mustn't it?'

'Shouldn't think Kay would be the sort to talk about finishing people,' observed Skene, when the fever of fear and excitement had cooled with the difficulties of making progress uphill on the sandy and interminable road. 'Still, you can't tell, I suppose. After all, he's really a Dago. They do have funny tempers and all that.'

'Oh, those weak-kneed sort of asses always threaten what they're going to do, but they never dream of doing it. Always saying they'll report you to the Head, but they never do. I say, I wish we'd found that cursed fountain pen!'

The culprits, with the luck of the undeserving, came into the village at last, and, anxious now to get back to the House and to return Mr Loveday's bicycle, they were soon at the School gate.

'Better walk the bike past Spivvy's cottage, just in case,' muttered Skene.

'In case of what, you ass?'

'Well, in case anybody should hear us.'

'Be your age. There's nobody there to hear us. They don't keep a proper servant, and his missus is still on holiday. Issy told me. And we know where Spivvy is, anyway.'

'He might have got back himself by now.'

'Pigs might fly, but he didn't,' said the bold Merrys, still pedalling on. He stopped the bicycle as soon as they drew near the School buildings, however, and the two boys crept like cats towards Mr Loveday's kitchen garden.

They restored the borrowed property to its shed, and were rounding the side of the House preparatory to climbing into the dormitory when they saw a surprising sight. From the direction of Mr Loveday's Roman Bath, which lay at the far end of Big Field, could be seen two lights which might have been rather powerful will o' the wisps, or, mundanely, a couple of lanterns or electric torches.

'I say, what do you think that is?' asked Skene.

'I don't know. Somebody playing the fool. A.W.O.L. like us, I shouldn't wonder.'

'Would they use lights? Anyway, the water would be beastly cold. They only stoke it up two days a week, ready for first Thursdays, you know.'

'I don't know, then. Think we ought to go over and have a look?'

'No, I jolly well don't! It can't be burglars, because there's nothing to steal. Perhaps it's Nancy the Nark having her weekly tub!'

Merrys giggled at this well-worn and libellous jest, and the two boys, having skinned their knees but come to no other harm in climbing up to their dormitory, soon rejoined Eaves and Meyrick, the other occupants of the room.

'What was it like?' whispered Eaves.

'All right. Dry up,' responded Merrys.

'I say!' whispered Skene, raising his head from the pillow. 'Aren't we in luck? Hear that?'

What he had heard was the swishing down of the rain.

'Missed it by less than five minutes! Golly!' said Merrys. 'Been dashed awkward if we'd had to account for soaked clothes. I never thought of it raining! Did you, Skene?'

Skene said nothing. He took off his shoes, socks, and jacket, left them on the floor, and went to bed in his trousers. Merrys found pyjamas and struggled into them in the dark. 'Tell you in the morning,' he whispered as he crept between the sheets. 'We think there might be a murder.'

'At the Dogs?' was the excited, anticipatory response.

'No, of course not. Dry up. You'll wake somebody. Good night. The Dogs are a washout. You have to pay half a crown just to go in.'

'But what about the murder?'

'Nothing, you fool! I was only pulling your silly fat leg. And, look here! Don't you two go shooting your heads off in the morning!'

'What do you think we are!' said the injured pair.

'Often wondered,' responded Merrys. 'Pax, you damned idiot! You'll bring old Albert-Edward! Oh, damn you! That was my knee-cap! Shut up, you fool!'

'Tell us about the murder, then!'

'There isn't any murder. It was only that we heard the Spiv having a frightful row with someone.'

'His missus, I expect. They do row. Elkins told me so. His people know her a bit.'

'Elkins is a cad.'

'Yes, he is, rather. What did the Spiv say?'

'Oh, nothing much. It wasn't his cottage, anyway. He jammed his fist through a window. . . . Don't chortle, you ass! You'll bring somebody up! Shut up! And it wasn't his missus, either. She's still away. But the whole thing was rather rummy, and if you'll swear not to tell a soul, we'll tell you about it in the morning.'