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There's one missing." "Ha! ha!" chimed in Dig. "How did you like the writing of the letter? Jolly hand our chaps write in the Shell, don't they?" Felgate had not remained to hear these last two genial inquiries, but had returned, storming and raving, to his room. The only game left him now was revenge. He would be very much surprised if that did not come off a little better than the last!
Whereupon he marched off to Railsford, and informed him that Felgate had twice screwed his arm; once made him catch hold of a poker at the hot end the proof whereof he bore on his hand had once made him stand in the corner on one foot for the space of an hour by the clock; and had half a dozen times threatened him that unless he did something wrong he would accuse him of theft or some other horrible crime to the doctor.
Felgate, to all appearance docile and penitent, nursed his wrath within him, and kept his eye open, with all the keenness of a sportsman, to the slightest opening for a revenge. In a quiet way he continued to do a great deal in the house to thwart the spirit of enterprise which was at present knitting all factions together.
Simson took out his list and wrote Tilbury's name, and then waited for Arthur's decision. "May as well," said Dig. "Wait till to-morrow," said Arthur, who still felt qualms. "You'll be too late then," said Simson. "All right that'll settle it then," said Arthur. "Felgate said he thought you'd be sure to go in," urged the tempter. "Did he?" said Arthur, a good deal impressed.
Felgate as usual began by impugning the junior's veracity, but on the master's proposing to send for the boy, and let him repeat his story there and then, he sullenly admitted that he might have played practical jokes on his tender person of the kind suggested.
"It's not Felgate," said Ainger, "for he has burnt his fingers in trying to fix it on Railsford himself; and it he was the real culprit, you may depend on it he'd have kept very quiet." "Munger has kept quiet," said Barnworth. "Munger! Why, he's a fool and a coward both. He could never have done such a thing." "Let's ask him. I'll tell you why I mentioned him. I never thought of it till now.
Whatever put all the things into your head?" "Oh, I don't know," said Arthur, getting a little "tilted" with all this flattery from a senior. "It was a notion I had." "Not half a bad notion," said Felgate, beginning to think the game was worth following up. "Not one fellow in a dozen would have thought about that match-box up on the ledge." "That's just it.
Felgate doesn't go; why don't you make him?" The captain put down his bat. "Munger, go and put on your flannels at once." "What if I don't?" asked Munger. Ainger replied by giving him a thrashing there and then, despite his howls and protests that he had just been going, and would never do it again.
"No, sir," said Felgate, omitting, however, to confess his own name, or point out the lawful owner of the name of Ainger. The master tried to smile at his own dilemma, and had the presence of mind not to plunge further into the quicksands. "Which of you is Ainger?" he inquired. "I am, sir," replied the captain haughtily.
Some, like Arthur and the baronet, with Simson squeezed in between them, looked knowing and important, as though horses and chariots would not drag their secret out of them. Ainger looked pale, and his big chest went up and down in a manner which those who knew him felt to be ominous. Stafford looked alternately solemn and sneering, according as he turned to the captain or Felgate.
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