The Fifth Form at St. Dominic's/Chapter XXV

While we have been talking to Oliver and Wraysford, and of the manner in which the results of the Nightingale examination affected them and the class to which they belonged, the reader will hardly have forgotten that there was another whose interest in that result was fully as serious and fully as painful.

Loman had been counting on gaining the scholarship to a dead certainty. From the moment when it occurred to him he would be able to free himself of his money difficulties with Cripps by winning it, he had dismissed, or seemed to dismiss, all further anxiety from his mind. He never doubted that he in the Sixth could easily beat the two boys in the Fifth; and though, as we have seen, he now and then felt a sneaking misgiving on the subject, it never seriously disturbed his confidence.

Now, however, he was utterly floored. He did not need to wait for the announcement of the results to be certain he had not won, for he had known his fate the moment his eyes glanced down the questions on the paper on the morning of examination.

At his last interview with Cripps that memorable Saturday afternoon, he had promised confidently to call at the Cockchafer next Thursday with the news of the result, as a further guarantee for the payment of the thirty pounds, never doubting what that result would be. How was he to face this interview now?

He could never tell Cripps straight out that he had been beaten in the examination; that would be the same thing as telling him to go at once to the Doctor or his father with the document which the boy had signed, and expose the whole affair. And it would be no use making a poor mouth to the landlord of the Cockchafer and begging to be forgiven the debt; Loman knew enough by this time to feel convinced of the folly of that. What was to be done?

“I shall have to humbug the fellow some way,” said Loman to himself, as he sat in his study the afternoon after the announcement of the result. Add then followed an oath.

Loman had been going from bad to worse the last month. Ever since he had begun, during the holidays, regularly to frequent the Cockchafer, and to discover that it was his interest to make himself agreeable to the man he disliked and feared, the boy’s vicious instincts had developed strangely. Company which before would have offended him, he now found—especially when it flattered him—congenial, and words and acts from which in former days he would have shrunk now came naturally.

“I shall have to humbug the fellow somehow,” said he; “I only wish I knew how;” and then Loman set himself deliberately to invent a lie for Mr. Cripps.

A charming afternoon’s occupation this for a boy of seventeen!

He sat and pondered for an hour or more, sometimes fancying he had hit upon the object of his search, and sometimes finding himself quite off the tack. Had Cripps only known what care and diligence was being bestowed on him that afternoon he would assuredly have been highly flattered.

At length he seemed to come to a satisfactory decision, and, naturally exhausted by such severe mental exertion, Loman quitted his study and sought in the playground the fresh air and diversion he so much needed.

One of the first boys he met there was Simon.

“Hullo, Loman!” said that amiable genius, “would you have believed it?”

“Believed what?” said Loman.

“Oh! you know, I thought you knew, about the Nightingale, you know. I say, how jolly low you came out!”

“Look here! you’d better hold your row!” said Loman, surlily, “unless you want a hiding.”

“Oh; it’s not that, you know. What I meant was about Greenfield senior. Isn’t that ago?”

“What about him? Why can’t you talk like an ordinary person, and not like a howling jackass?”

“Why, you know,” said Simon, off whom all such pretty side compliments as these were wont to roll like water off a duck’s back—“why, you know, about that paper?”

“What paper?” said Loman, impatiently.

“The one that was stolen out of the Doctor’s study, you know. Isn’t that a go? But we’re going to hush it up. Honour bright!”

Loman’s face at that moment was anything but encouraging. Somehow, this roundabout way of the poet’s seemed particularly aggravating to him, for he turned quite pale with rage, and, seizing the unhappy bard by the throat, said, with an oath, “What do you mean, you miserable beast? What about the paper?”

“Oh!” said Simon, not at all put about by this rough handling—“why, don’t you know? we know who took it, we do; but we’re all going to—”

But at this point Simon’s speech was interrupted, for the very good reason that Loman’s grip on his throat became so very tight that the wretched poet nearly turned black in the face.

With another oath the Sixth Form boy exclaimed, “Who took it?”

“Why—don’t you know?—oh!—oh, I say, mind my throat!—haven’t you heard?—why, Greenfield senior, you know!”

Loman let go his man suddenly and stared at him.

“Greenfield senior?” he exclaimed in amazement.

“Yes; would you have thought it? None of us would—we’re all going to hush it up, you know, honour bright we are.”

“Who told you he took it?”

“Why, you know, I saw him;” and here Simon giggled jubilantly, to mark what astonishment his disclosure was causing.

“You saw him take it?” asked Loman, astounded.

“Yes; that is, I saw him coming out of the Doctor’s study with it.”

“You did?”

“Yes; that is, of course he must have had it; and he says so himself.”

“What, Greenfield says he took the paper?” exclaimed Loman, in utter astonishment.

“Yes; that is, he doesn’t say he didn’t; and all the fellows are going to cut him dead, but we mean to hush it up if we can.”

“Hush yourself up, that’s what you’d better do,” said Loman, turning his back unceremoniously on his informant, and proceeding, full of this strange news, on his solitary walk. What was in his mind as he went along I cannot tell you. I fancy it was hardly sorrow at the thought that a school-fellow could stoop to a mean, dishonest action, nor, I think, was it indignation on Wrayford’s or his own account.

Indeed, the few boys who passed Loman that afternoon were struck with the cheerfulness of his appearance. Considering he had been miserably beaten in the scholarship examination, this show of satisfaction was all the more remarkable.

“The fellow seems quite proud of himself,” said Callonby to Wren as they passed him.

“He’s the only fellow who is, if that’s so,” said Wren.

Loman stopped and spoke to them as they came up.

“Hullo! you fellows,” said he, in as free and easy a manner as one fellow can assume to others who he knows dislike him, “I wanted to see you. Which way are you going?—back to the school?”

“Wren and I are going a stroll together,” said Callonby, coldly; “good-bye.”

“Half a minute,” said Loman. “I suppose you heard the results of the Nightingale read out.”

“Considering I was sitting on the same form with you when they were, I suppose I did,” said Wren.

“That’s all right,” said Loman, evidently determined not to notice the snubbing bestowed on him. “Mine wasn’t a very loud score, was it? Seventy! I was surprised it was as much!”

The two Sixth boys looked at him inquiringly.

“The fact is, I never tried to answer,” said Loman, “and for a very good reason. I suppose you know.”

“No—what?” asked they.

“Haven’t you heard? I thought it was all over the school. You heard about the Doctor missing a paper?”

“Yes; what about it? Was it found, or lost, or what?”

“No one owned to having taken it, that’s certain.”

“I should hope not. Not the sort of thing any fellow here would do.”

“That’s just what I should have thought,” said Loman. “But the fact is, some one did take it—you can guess who—and you don’t suppose I was going to be fool enough to take any trouble over my answers when I knew one of the other fellows had had the paper in his pocket a day and a half before the exam.” And here Loman laughed.

“Do you mean to say Greenfield stole it?” exclaimed both the friends at once, in utter astonishment.

“I mean to say you’re not far wrong. But you’d better ask some of the Fifth. It’s all come out, I hear, there.”

“And you knew of it before the exam.?”

“I guessed it; or you may be sure I’d have taken a little more trouble over my answers. It wasn’t much use as it was.”

Loman had the satisfaction of seeing the two Sixth boys depart in amazement, and the still greater satisfaction of seeing them a little later in confidential conference with Simon, from whom he guessed pretty correctly they would be sure to get a full “all-round” narrative of the whole affair.

“I’m all right with the Sixth, anyhow,” muttered he to himself. “I only wish I was as right with that blackguard Cripps.”

“That blackguard Cripps,” had, next afternoon, the peculiar pleasure of welcoming his young friend and patron under the hospitable roof of the Cockchafer. As usual, he was as surprised as he was delighted at the honour done him, and could not imagine for the life of him to what he was indebted for so charming a condescension. In other words, he left Loman to open the business as best he could.

“I promised to come and tell you about the examination, didn’t I?”

“Eh? Oh, yes, to be sure. That was last Saturday. Upon my word, I’d quite forgotten.”

Of course Loman knew this was false; but he had to look pleasant and answer, “Well, you see, my memory was better than yours.”

“Right you are, young captain. And what about this here fifty-pound dicky-bird you’ve been after?”

“The Nightingale?” said Loman. “Oh, it’s all right, of course; but the fact is, I forgot when I promised you the money now, that of course they—”

“Oh, come now, none of your gammon,” said Mr. Cripps, angrily; “a promise is a promise, and I expect young swells as makes them to keep them, mind that.”

“Oh, of course I’ll keep them, Cripps. What I was saying was that they don’t pay you the money till the beginning of each year.”

Loman omitted to mention, as he had omitted to mention all along, that young gentlemen who win scholarships do not, as a rule, have the money they win put into their hands to do as they like with. But this was a trifling slip of the memory, of course!

“I don’t care when they pay you your money! All I know is I must have mine now, my young dandy. Next week the time’s up.”

“But, Cripps, how can I pay you unless I’ve got the money?”

“No, no; I’ve had enough of that, young gentleman. This time I’m a-going to have my way, or the governor shall know all about it,—you see!”

“Oh, don’t say that!” said Loman. “Wait a little longer and it will be all right, it really will.”

“Not a bit of it. That’s what you said three months ago,” replied Cripps.

“I won’t ask you again,” pleaded the boy; “just this time, Cripps.”

“Why, you ought to be ashamed of yourself, that you ought,” exclaimed the virtuous landlord of the Cockchafer, “a keeping a honest man out of his money!”

“Oh, but I’m certain to have it then—that is, next to certain.”

“Oh! then what you’re tilling me about this here Nightingale of yours is a lie, is it?” said the ’cute Mr. Cripps. “You ain’t got it at all, ain’t you?”

Loman could have bitten his tongue off for making such a blunder.

“A he? No; that is— Why, Cripps, the fact is—” he stammered, becoming suddenly very red.

“Well, drive on,” said Cripps, enjoying the boy’s confusion, and proud of his own sharpness.

“The fact is—I was going to tell you, Cripps, I was really; there’s been something wrong about this exam. One of the fellows stole one of the papers, and so got the scholarship unfairly.”

“And I can make a pretty good guess,” said Mr. Cripps, with a grin, “which of the fellows that gentleman was.”

“No, it wasn’t me, Cripps, really,” said Loman, pale and quite humble in the presence of his creditor; “it was one of the others—Greenfield in the Fifth; the fellow, you know, who struck you on Saturday.”

“What, him?” exclaimed Cripps, astonished for once in a way. “That bloke? Why, he looked a honest sort of chap, he did, though I do owe him one.”

“Oh,” said Loman, following up this temporary advantage, “he’s a regular swindler, is Greenfield. He stole the paper, you know, and so won the scholarship, of course. I was certain of it, if it hadn’t been for that. I mean to have a row made about it, and there’s certain to be another exam., so that I’m sure of the money if you’ll only wait.”

“And how long do you want me to wait, I’d like to know?” said Cripps.

“Oh, till after Christmas, please, at any rate. It’ll be all right then, I’ll answer for that.”

“You’ll answer for a lot of things, it strikes me, young gentleman,” said Cripps, “before you’ve done.”

There were signs of relenting in this speech, which the boy was quick to take advantage of.

“Do wait till then!” he said, beseechingly.

Cripps pretended to meditate.

“I don’t see how I can. I’m a poor man, got my rent to pay and all that. Look here, young gentleman, I must have £10 down, if I’m to wait.”

“Ten pounds! I haven’t as much in the world!” exclaimed Loman. “I can give you five pounds, though,” he added. “I’ve just got a note from home to-day.”

“Five’s no use,” said Cripps, contemptuously, “wouldn’t pay not the interest. You’ll have to make it a tenner, young gentleman.”

“Don’t say that, Cripps, I’d gladly do it if I could; I’d pay you every farthing, and so I will if you only wait.”

“That’s just the way with you young swells. You get your own ways, and leave other people to get theirs best way they can. Where’s your five pound?”

Loman promptly produced this, and Cripps as promptly pocketed it, adding,—

“Well, I suppose I’ll have to give in. How long do you say—two months?”

“Three,” said Loman. “Oh, thanks, Cripps, I really will pay up then.”

“You’d better, because, mind you, if you don’t I shall walk straight to the governor. Don’t make any mistake about that.”

“Oh, yes, so you may,” said the wretched Loman, willing to promise anything in his eagerness.

Finally it was settled. Cripps was to wait three months longer; and Loman, although knowing perfectly well that there was absolutely less chance then of having the money than there had been now, felt a weight temporarily taken off his mind, and was all gratitude.

Of course, he stayed a while as usual and tasted Mr. Cripps’s beer, and of course he met again not a few of his new friends—sharpers, most of them, of Cripps’s own stamp, or green young gentlemen of the town, like Loman himself. From one of the latter Loman had the extraordinary “good luck” that afternoon to win three pounds over a wager, a sum which he at once handed over to Cripps in the most virtuous way, in further liquidation of his debt.

Indeed, as he left the place, and wandered slowly back to Saint Dominic’s, he felt quite encouraged.

“There’s eight pounds of it paid right off,” said he to himself; “and before Christmas something is sure to turn up. Besides, I’m sure to get some more money from home between now and then. Oh, it’ll be all right!”

So saying he tried to dismiss the matter from his mind and think of pleasanter subjects, such, for instance, as Oliver’s crime, and his own clever use of it to delude the Sixth.

Things altogether were looking up with Loman. Cheating, lying, and gambling looked as if they would pay after all!