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Behind it, deep in the swelling heart of Mannix, lay a wider thing, a kind of imperialism, a devotion to the school itself. Far across the dim quadrangle rang the words "Haileyburia Floreat." It was Mannix's greatest moment Three days later the school broke up. Excited farewells were said by boys eagerly pressing into the brakes which bore them to the Hertford station.
"Tell him!" he commanded in a voice which stung like the crack of a whip on still air. "I I had a hand in the business," said Sautee frantically. "It was Carlisle and me. We we framed the robberies." Mannix's eyes narrowed. "Tell him where I got that money last night," Rathburn thundered. "Tell him, Sautee, or, so help me, I'll drill a hole through you!"
"If you fellows take a couple more steps in this direction I'll put a bullet into this box of dynamite!" The movement stopped instantly. Men stared up at him breathlessly, for they realized that he meant what he said. Mannix's face was pale, but his eyes glowed with determination. "Do you think it's worth it, Coyote?" he asked.
To the left, under the towering peaks of the divide, the rounded crest of the hogback was discernible, and a black spot marked the location of Mannix's automobile. "There's a car over there," said Rathburn, noting the direction of Sautee's gaze. Almost directly below them a number of mounted men filed over a ridge and again disappeared in the timber. Off to the right more horsemen were to be seen.
Priscilla put out her right hand demurely. Her eyes were fixed on the ground. Her lips were slightly parted in a deprecating smile, suggestive of timid modesty. "What's your name?" said Lord Torrington. "Priscilla Lentaigne." Nothing could have been meeker than the tone in which she spoke. "H'm," said Lord Torrington, "and you're Mannix's boy. Not much like your father. At school?"
She had every right to demand that her son should be allowed to catch the salmon and shoot the grouse of Sir Lucius. Lady Lentaigne, who died young, was Mrs. Mannix's sister. Sir Lucius was therefore Frank's uncle. Edward Mannix, M. P., worried by Lord Torrington and threatened by his doctor, acquiesced in the arrangement. He ordered a fishing rod and a gun for Frank.
A tall lady, apparently connected with the offensive red-faced gentleman, observed in perfectly audible tones that schoolboys ought not to be allowed to travel without some one in charge of them. Mannix's anger rose to boiling point at this addition of calculated insult to deliberate injury. He struggled to his feet, intending then and there to speak some plain truths to his assailant.
Mannix's eyes hardened before he spoke again. He hesitated, but when his words came they were clear-cut and stern. "Then come with me an' I'll show you where to sleep." "You mean in jail?" queried Rathburn. Mannix nodded coldly.
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