“You’d better meet me here, then, as soon after school as you can.”
As he spoke, the car stopped.
“Where are we?” asked Sheen.
“Just at the corner of the road behind the houses.”
“Oh, I know. Hullo, there goes the lockup bell. I shall do it comfortably.”
He jumped down.
“I say, Bruce,” he said, “I really am most awfully obliged for the lift. Something went wrong with my boat, and I couldn’t get back in it. I should have been frightfully in the cart if you hadn’t come by.”
“That’s all right,” said Jack Bruce. “I say, Sheen!”
“Hullo?”
“Are you going to practise in the music-room after morning school tomorrow?”
“Yes. Why?”
“I think I’ll turn up.”
“I wish you would.”
“What’s that thing that goes like this? I forget most of it.”
He whistled a few bars.
“That’s a thing of Greig’s,” said Sheen.
“You might play it tomorrow,” said Bruce.
“Rather. Of course I will.”
“Thanks,” said Jack Bruce. “Good night.”
He turned the car, and vanished down the road. From the sound Sheen judged that he was once more travelling at a higher rate of speed than the local police would have approved.
XIV
A Skirmish
Upon consideration Sheen determined to see Linton about that small matter of the boat without delay. After prayers that night he went to his study.
“Can I speak to you for a minute, Linton?” he said.
Linton was surprised. He disapproved of this intrusion. When a fellow is being cut by the house, he ought, by all the laws of school etiquette, to behave as such, and not speak till he is spoken to.
“What do you want?” asked Linton.
“I shan’t keep you long. Do you think you could put away that book for a minute, and listen?”
Linton hesitated, then shut the book.
“Hurry up, then,” he said.
“I was going to,” said Sheen. “I simply came in to tell you that I know perfectly well who sunk my boat this afternoon.”
He felt at once that he had now got Linton’s undivided attention.
“Your boat!” said Linton. “You don’t mean to say that was yours! What on earth were you doing at the place?”
“I don’t think that’s any business of yours, is it, Linton?”
“How did you get back?”
“I don’t think that’s any business of yours, either. I daresay you’re disappointed, but I did manage to get back. In time for lockup, too.”
“But I don’t understand. Do you mean to say that that was your boat we took?”
“Sunk,” corrected Sheen.
“Don’t be a fool, Sheen. What the dickens should we want to sink your boat for? What happened was this. Albert—you remember Albert?—followed us up to the inn, and smashed our boat while we were having tea. When we got out and found it sunk, we bagged the only other one we could see. We hadn’t a notion it was yours. We thought it belonged to some fisherman chap.”
“Then you didn’t sink my boat?”
“Of course we didn’t. What do you take us for?”
“Sorry,” said Sheen. “I thought it was a queer thing for you to have done. I’m glad it wasn’t you. Good night.”
“But look here,” said Linton, “don’t go. It must have landed you in a frightful hole, didn’t it?”
“A little. But it doesn’t matter. Good night.”
“But half a second, Sheen—”
Sheen had disappeared.
Linton sat on till lights were turned off, ruminating. He had a very tender conscience where other members of the school were concerned, though it was tougher as regarded masters; and he was full of remorse at the thought of how nearly he had got Sheen into trouble by borrowing his boat that afternoon. It seemed to him that it was his duty to make it up to him in some way.
It was characteristic of Linton that the episode did not, in any way, alter his attitude towards Sheen. Another boy in a similar position might have become effusively friendly. Linton looked on the affair in a calm, judicial spirit. He had done Sheen a bad turn, but that was no reason why he should fling himself on his neck and swear eternal friendship. His demeanour on the occasions when they came in contact with each other remained the same. He did not speak to him, and he did not seem to see him. But all the while he was remembering that somehow or other he must do him a good turn of some sort, by way of levelling things up again. When that good turn had been done, he might dismiss him from his thoughts altogether.
Sheen, for his part, made no attempt to trade on the matter of the boat. He seemed as little anxious to be friendly with Linton as Linton was to be friendly with him. For this Linton was grateful, and continued to keep his eyes open in the hope of finding some opportunity of squaring up matters between them.
His chance was not long in coming. The feeling in the house against Sheen, caused by the story of his encounter with Attell, had not diminished. Stanning had fostered it in various little ways. It was not difficult. When a house of the standing in the school which Seymour’s possessed exhibits a weak spot, the rest of the school do not require a great deal of encouragement to go on prodding that weak spot. In short, the school rotted Seymour’s about Sheen, and Seymour’s raged impotently. Fags of other houses expended much crude satire on Seymour’s fags, and even the seniors of the house came in for their share of the baiting. Most of the houses at Wrykyn were jealous of Seymour’s, and this struck them as an admirable opportunity of getting something of their own back.
One afternoon, not long after Sheen’s conversation with Linton, Stanning came into Seymour’s senior day-room and sat down on the table. The senior day-room objected to members of other houses coming and
