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a wood, and without a moment's hesitation they plunged through the hedge, and dashed on through the bushes. The dry twigs cracked, and the dead leaves rustled beneath their feet. Suddenly, not more than fifty yards away to their right, there was the loud explosion of a gun, and almost at the same instant a harsh-voice shouted: "Hi there--stop! Where
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are you going?" "Oh," panted Jack, "it's one of the keepers! Run for all you're worth!" The opposite edge of the wood was not far distant. The three youngsters rushed wildly on, and stumbling blindly over the boundary hedge, continued their mad gallop across a narrow field. Over another hedge, and they were in a sunken roadway. Then came the
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end. Mugford staggered over to the opposite bank, and falling down upon it with his hand pressed to his side, gasped out, "Awful stitch--can't go any further!" Years afterwards, when the Triple Alliance met at an Old Boys' dinner, they laughed heartily in talking over this adventure; but there were no signs of mirth on any of their faces at
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the time it was happening. Then as Jack Vance and Diggory stood staring blankly at each other in the deepening winter twilight, they suddenly blossomed out into heroes-- heroes, it is true, in flannel cricket-caps and turned-down collars, but heroes, at all events to my mind, as genuine in the spirit which prompted their action as those whose deeds are
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known in song and story. The barking of a dog in the field above showed that the keeper was following up their trail. "Bun for it!" panted Mugford; "don't wait for me!" "Shan't!" said Jack and Diggory in one voice; and the latter, sticking his hands in his trouser pockets, began to whistle. "Go on!" cried Mugford. "Shan't!" repeated his
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companions. It was evident that the Triple Alliance would sink or swim together, and it so happened that by a piece of unexpected good fortune they were destined to realize the latter alternative. There was a clatter of wheels, the quick stamp of a fast-trotting horse, and a baker's cart came swinging round the corner. Diggory, whose wits never seemed
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to desert him at a critical moment, recognized it at once as belonging to the man who supplied the school, and springing forward he beckoned to the driver to stop, crying,-- "I say, give us a lift into Ronleigh, and we'll pay you a shilling. We belong to the college." The man peered round the canvas covering, and at once
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recognized the boys' cap and crest. "All right," he said. "Hop up; I'll find room for you somewhere." The danger was past; with an audible sigh of relief the three youngsters clambered into the vehicle, and the next moment were bowling rapidly along in the direction of the town. "I say," cried Jack, "this is a stroke of good luck.
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Why, we shall be back in time after all." The remainder of their conversation was lost to the ears of the driver, but seemed to consist mainly of a series of attempts on the part of Mugford to say something, which were always interrupted by a chorus of groans, and shouts of "Shut up!" from his two companions. At length
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the cart arrived at Ronleigh, and set down the three passengers at the corner of Broad Street, the principal thoroughfare; and here their adventures seemed to have terminated. I say _seemed_, because, as a matter of fact, something still remains to be told in the history of this eventful day; but before proceeding to the close of the chapter, it
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will be well to say a word or two with regard to a certain person connected with it who is as yet unknown to the reader. Ronleigh was fortunate in having a staff of masters who won the respect and confidence of the boys. Some poor-spirited fellows there are who will always abuse those set in authority over them; but
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at Ronleigh there was happily, on the whole, a mutual good understanding, such as might exist in a well and wisely disciplined regiment between officers and men. Exceptions, however, prove the rule; and when at the commencement of the present winter term a new junior master had come to take charge of the Third Form, it was evident from the
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first that before long there would be trouble. Mr. Grice was a very short man, with a pompous, hectoring manner, which was, somehow, especially exasperating to fellows who stood a good head and shoulders taller than the master. His rule was founded on the fear of punishment, and the sceptre which he wielded was a small black note-book, in which
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he entered the names of all offenders with an accompanying "Hundred lines, Brown!" or "Write the lesson out after school, Smith." Lastly, Mr. Grice was not a gentleman. Boys, I know, pay little attention to the conventionalities, and are seldom found consulting books on etiquette; but those who have been well brought up, and accustomed at home to an air
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of refinement, are quick to detect ill-breeding and bad manners in those older than themselves, and who "ought to know better." So it came about that Mr. Grice was unpopular, and the boys in his class bemoaned their fate, and called him uncomplimentary nicknames. We left the three friends standing at the corner of Broad Street. The church clock had
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just struck the quarter-past five, and by this time it was dark, though the street was lit up by the gas-lamps and the long rows of shop windows. "I hope no one sees us," said Jack Vance. "I'm mud all over. We must look sharp, or we shall be late." "Hullo!" exclaimed Diggory, "look out! Here's that wretched little Grice
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coming; there, he's stopped to look into the ironmonger's shop. We must dodge past him somehow, or he'll want to know where we've been." The trio crossed quickly over to the opposite side of the street, and hurried off at full speed in the direction of the school. All boys were supposed to be on the school premises by half-past
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five, and at that time the door leading to the outer world was locked by the prefect for the day. Oaks, who happened to be on duty, was standing in the passage talking to Allingford when the three juveniles arrived, out of breath and flushed with running. "Hullo, you kids! where have you been?" inquired the captain. Diggory launched out
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into a brief description of their many adventures; Oaks laughed heartily. "Well," he said, pulling out his watch, "you've just got back in time; half a minute more, and you'd have been outside, my boys." The prefect locked the door, and continuing his conversation with Allingford, started off down the passage. On reaching what was the main corridor on the
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ground floor, they paused for a moment, and stood warming their hands at the hot-water pipe, and it was while thus engaged that they were suddenly accosted by Mr. Grice, who bustled up to them in a great state of excitement. "Are you on duty, Oaks?" "Yes, sir." "Have any boys come in late?" "No, sir." "Well, three boys passed
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me in the town; I think one of them was young Trevanock. I called to them to stop, but they took no notice. When they come in, you send than to me." "They weren't late, sir," answered Oaks; "they came in about a minute ago." "Oh, nonsense. I looked at my watch when I saw them in the town, and
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then it was five-and-twenty past; they couldn't have come up in five minutes. You must either have let them in, or not closed the door at the proper time." Prefects at Ronleigh were not in the habit of being lectured as though they were lower-school boys. Oaks bit his lip. "I closed the door on the stroke of half-past," he
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answered. "Well, you say those boys came in about two minutes ago. By me it's now twenty to six, so they must have been late." "They were in before half-past, sir; your watch must be wrong." "Don't keep contradicting me, sir," said the master. "We are supposed to work by the school clock, sir," interposed the captain. "I'm not aware
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that I addressed any remark to you, Allingford," retorted Mr. Grice, rapidly losing all control of his temper. "You need make no further attempt to teach me the rules of the school; I flatter myself that I am sufficiently well versed in them already." A crowd of idlers, attracted by the angry tones of the master's voice, had begun to
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collect in the passage, and the captain flushed to the roots of his hair at being thus taken to task in public. "I merely said, sir, that we work by the school clock." "And I say, hold your tongue, sir.--Oaks, remember you report those three boys for being late." "I can't do that, sir," answered Oaks stolidly, "for they were
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in time." Mr. Grice boiled over. "You are a very impertinent fellow," he cried. "I shall report you both to the doctor." And so saying, he turned on his heel and walked away. There was a buzz of astonishment among the bystanders. The idea of a captain of Ronleigh being reported to the doctor was something novel indeed, and by
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the time the first bell rang for tea, a report of the collision between Mr. Grice and the prefects had spread all over the school. . SOWING THE WIND. The passage of arms between Mr. Grice and the two prefects was eagerly discussed by boys of all ages. Exaggerated reports spread from mouth to mouth, each teller of the story
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adding to it some details drawn from his own imagination, until, away down in the Second Form, it was confidently asserted that Oaks had called Mr. Grice a "little tin monkey," and that Allingford had boxed the master's ears; which enormities would most certainly result in the expulsion of the two offenders. As a matter of fact, the expected storm
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never burst. The first thing the doctor did on receiving Mr. Grice's complaint was to compare that gentleman's watch with his own. "Hum'" he said shortly, "I suppose you're aware that you _are_ ten minutes fast?" A few moments later Mr. Grice withdrew, looking rather crestfallen. As may be imagined, the result of his interview with the head-master was never
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made public, and in the meantime Ronleians old and young were expressing their high approval of the conduct of their captain and his lieutenant. The gilt was beginning to wear off the Thurstonian gingerbread, and sensible fellows, who could tell the difference between jewel and paste, were less inclined than ever to be led by the nose by such fellows
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as Gull and Hawley. Here was an instance in which the prefects had taken a stand against palpable injustice, and the action had caused the whole body to rise several pegs in everybody's estimation. The near approach of the Wraxby football match caused a revival of good, honest public spirit. If only Ronleigh could beat the Grammar School this year
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at footer as well as at cricket, every one felt that their cup of joy would run over, and the champions who were to strive for the wished-for victory were naturally regarded, for the time being, as standing on more exalted ground than their fellows. Ever since the exposure of Fletcher senior as the author of "College _v._ Town," the
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poem had become a weapon turned against the writer and his party. Boys had gone to the bottom of the matter, and discovering the real reason of Thurston's absence from the team, had declared that a fellow who out of spite would refuse to give his services to uphold the honour of the school had forfeited all claim on their
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consideration or sympathy. Such was the state of popular feeling when, with the clang of the getting-up bell on Thursday morning, the twelfth of December, a day commenced fraught with unexpected episodes and situations closely affecting the interests of the Triple Alliance. One might have thought that their adventures on the previous afternoon had afforded them sufficient excitement for at
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least one week; but these were destined to prove but the prelude to an event of still greater importance. The three friends went into school at nine o'clock, looking forlorn and miserable. Something, indeed, had happened to mar their happiness, and the cause of their depression was as follows:-- Soon after breakfast, when the contents of the post-bag had been
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distributed as usual, Mugford accosted his two chums, who were strolling up and down the quadrangle. A look of abject misery was on his face, and in his hand he held an open letter. "Hullo!" cried Jack Vance; "what's up? You look as if you had lost a sovereign and found sixpence!" "Matter enough," murmured Mugford, whose heart was evidently
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in his mouth: "I'm going to leave." "Going to leave!" exclaimed Diggory; "what ever d'you mean?" "Well, I don't mind telling you fellows," answered the other. "You know my guv'nor isn't well off, and he says he's lost money, and can't afford to keep me at Ronleigh. I know I'm no good, and you fellows'll get on all right without
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me, and--" The sentence not being completed, the two other boys glanced at the speaker's face, and from previous indications in the tone of his voice were not surprised to find that he was crying. Two years appear a long time when one is on the bright side of twenty, and the friendship seemed to have lasted for ages. At
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the near prospect of separation all Mugford's little failings were forgotten, and both Diggory and Jack Vance felt that life without him would be a blank. "Oh, dash it all!" said the latter; "you mustn't go? Isn't there anything we can do? Shall I write to your guv'nor?" The idea of Jack Vance addressing a remonstrance to his respected parent
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caused the ghost of a smile to appear on Mugford's doleful face. "No, it's no good," he answered. "There's nothing for it; I shall have to leave." During the interval which divided morning school and the free time before dinner the three friends mooned about together, trying in vain to regard the future in a more cheerful light, and to
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make plans for keeping touch of each other by an interchange of letters and a possible meeting in the holidays. "It's all very well," said Jack Vance to Diggory, when late on in the afternoon he happened to come across the latter flattening his nose against the glass of the box-room window--"it's all very well talking about writing and all
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that; but this is the end of the Triple Alliance." "Yes," answered Diggory, after a moment's thought, "I suppose it is. I wish we could do something more before it's broken up." As he spoke, he passed his hand mechanically along the lower surface of the window ledge; then with a sudden exclamation he went down on his knees, and
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picked something out of the wall. It was another note written in cipher! The missive was certainly very brief, consisting of only seven letters:-- "GLMRTSG." "Hullo!" said Jack Vance; "they're at it again!" His companion made no reply, but taking out a pencil, copied the cipher on the back of an envelope, and then replaced the mysterious document in the
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crack between the window-frame and the bricks. "What are you doing that for?" "Why, because they may miss it, and smell a rat. Come on; let's get the key and see what it means." In this instance the translation of the cryptograph did not occupy much time; Diggory produced his double alphabet, and soon spelt out the word:-- "_To-night._" The
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two chums gazed at each other for a few moments in silence. "What does it mean?" queried Jack. "I don't know, unless it is that they are going to have another meeting after tea under the pavilion." "Let's find Mug, and hear what he thinks." In discussing their new find and attempting to solve its meaning, the three friends forgot
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for the time being the melancholy tidings they had received that morning, and gave themselves up to a full enjoyment of the mystery. "I can't see," said Mugford, "that it means anything else than that they are going to have another meeting." "Yes, that's it. I shall go down to the pavilion again after tea, and see what's up. I
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shouldn't wonder if there is going to be another row. Fletcher said he meant to do something before he left, and there isn't much time now before the end of the term." "Shan't Mug or I go this time?" asked Jack Vance; "it's rather a risky business." "No, I'll go; I know now just where to hide." During the half-hour
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between tea and evening preparation Jack Vance and Mugford lingered about in the dark and deserted quadrangle, anxiously awaiting their comrade's return. Once only was the silence broken, by Maxton chasing young "Rats" from the gymnasium into the big school, shouting, "I'll lick you, you little villain!" but with this exception, our two friends had the place to themselves. It
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was a raw, cold night; every one seemed, very naturally, to be keeping indoors, and there were no signs of any members of the secret society being abroad. Jack Vance and his companion trotted softly up and down, endeavouring to keep themselves warm. At length, when their patience was wellnigh exhausted, there was a sound of footsteps, and Diggory was
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descried coming through the archway leading to the playing fields. "Well," cried his two chums, in low, eager tones, "what have you heard?" The answer was certainly one they had least expected,-- "Nothing." "Nothing! what d'you mean?" "Why, they didn't come; there wasn't any meeting. I waited and waited, until I saw it was no use staying any longer; so
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then I gave it up as a bad job." "Did the note really say to-night?" "Yes: I went down just before tea to see if it was still there, and I brought it away with me. Here, look for yourself." As he spoke, Diggory produced the slip of paper from his waistcoat pocket. By the light of the archway lamp
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it was compared with a hastily-constructed key, and the former translation was found to be correct. The Triple Alliance had certainly for once in a way "drawn blank," and the preparation bell putting an end to their further deliberations, they directed their steps toward the schoolroom, wondering more than ever what could be the meaning of that significant word, "To-night."
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Now, the real reason of the three friends being thus at fault in their investigations was simply this: they were exactly twenty-four hours behindhand in their attempt to unravel the mystery. The conclusion they had come to with regard to the meaning of the note was correct: a tacit understanding had existed for some time among the inner circle of
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the Thurstonian party that this should be the signal for a gathering of the clan; but the note, when Diggory had found it, had been lying in the impromptu post office for a day and a half, and the meeting to which it was a summons had already taken place on the previous evening. For the reader, who is a
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privileged person, we intend to put back the clock, and leaving the Triple Alliance dividing their attention between attempts to discover the meaning, first of their Latin author, and secondly of the enigma formed by this perplexing single-worded epistle, we will give a short account of the gathering to which it referred. It was while the greater number of their
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school-fellows were gathered in numerous little groups, whiling away the free time before preparation discussing the various rumours that were current respecting Mr. Grice's encounters with Oaks and Allingford, that the same five conspirators assembled for another secret "confab" in the den beneath the pavilion. In one way it was a fortunate thing for Diggory that he did not discover
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the note sooner, for hardly had Thurston set the lighted candle in the empty bottle than Noaks picked it up, and peered carefully into each of the four corners, and behind the heaps of benches and other lumber. "What are you doing that for?" asked Gull. "Oh, only to see that no one's come who wasn't invited. D'you remember last
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time what a stink there was of a burnt fusee? Well, after you'd gone I found young Trevanock knocking about the field, and I wouldn't swear but what he knew something about our meeting. I searched the young beggar's pockets; but he hadn't got any more lights, so I let him go." The party grouped themselves round the candle, as
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they had done on the previous occasion, when Diggory had watched their movements from behind the pile of forms, and Thurston, with an inquiring look at Fletcher, asked, "Well, what's the object of this pleasant little reunion?" "I suppose you can pretty well guess," answered the other. "The last time we were here we all agreed that before the end
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of the term was up we'd get even chalks with Allingford and Co. Well, seeing there's only eight days left, I thought it was about time we had another meeting, and decided what we were going to do.--By-the-bye," added the speaker, turning with something like a sneer on his lips, and addressing his chum, "it's the Wraxby match on Saturday;
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I suppose they haven't asked you to play in the team?" The shaft went home, and Thurston's face darkened with anger. "No," he answered indignantly, "and I wouldn't play, not if they all went down on their knees and begged me to. What do I care about the Wraxby match? If I could, I'd put a stopper on it, and
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bring the whole thing to the ground." "Well," continued Fletcher calmly, "that's just what we're going to do. If you'd asked me this morning how we could put a spoke in Allingford's wheel, and pay out him and a lot of those other prigs like Oaks and Rowlands, I couldn't have told you; but now the thing's as easy as
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pat. They'll find out they haven't cold-shouldered me at every turn and corner for nothing. I'll give them tit for tat, and after Christmas, when I've left this beastly place, I'll write and tell them who did it." "You seem to have got your back up, old chap," said Thurston, referring to the bitter tones in which the last few
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sentences had been spoken; "but out with it--what's your plan?" "Why, this: I'd no idea what a chance we should have when I stuck that note in our pillar-box, but here it is all ready made. Allingford and Oaks have had a row with little Grice; he's reported them, and it's quite natural they should want to pay him out
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for doing it. As they're such good boys, I don't suppose they'll try anything of the kind; but we might undertake the job, and do it for them." The speaker paused to see if he had been understood. "What!" exclaimed Thurston bluntly, "you mean, play Grice a trick and make it appear they'd done it because of this rumpus about
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locking the door?" "That's about it," returned the other, laughing. "What could we do better?" Noaks murmured his approval of the scheme, but Gull and Hawley were silent. To tell the truth, since the big row following their attack on Browse had put a stop to any further chance of card-parties and other amusements in Thurston's study, their attachment to
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the ex-prefect had considerably lessened. Like many others of their kind, they were thoroughly selfish at heart, and saw no good in running any personal risk to settle the quarrels of a third person. The party feeling which had characterized the last school elections, and caused for the time being a spirit of ill-will and opposition towards the school leaders,
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had just about died a natural death; and if another public meeting had been called in the gymnasium, not half a dozen fellows would have shouted for Thurston, or allied themselves against the side of law and order. All this had tended to make Hawley and Gull lukewarm in their adherence to the cause. Noaks, however, who would have paid
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any price for the privilege of being able to hobnob with those who were in any higher position than himself, was ready to follow his two Sixth Form cronies to any extreme they might suggest. "Well," he inquired, "and what's to be the trick?" "I only just thought of one on the spur of the moment," answered Fletcher; "but if
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no one else has a better to suggest, I daresay it'll do. We might screw up little Grice's bedroom door so as to get him down late in the morning; his room's right away at the end of the passage. There is a screw-driver belonging to Oaks lying in one of the empty lockers--it has his name on the handle;
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and if we happened to drop it as we came away, I think that in the face of this row it would look uncommonly like his doing. D'you twig?" There was something so mean and cowardly in this scheme, and in the manner in which the proposal was made, that even Thurston gave vent to an exclamation of contempt. "So
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that's your little game, is it?" he inquired. "Yes, that's it; that's my little project for putting a stop to the Wraxby match. There'll be an awful row, and the doctor'll keep the team from going. Now, then, who'll do the trick?--Will you, Hawley?" "No fear," answered Hawley. "Gull and I did most of the last two blow-ups; it's some
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one else's turn now. Suppose you do it yourself, as it's your idea." Fletcher frowned: in matters of this sort he liked to make the plans and get others to execute them. "Well, I was thinking one of you might," he began. "Oh, bother!" interrupted Thurston, whose revengeful spirit had been once more aroused by the mention of the Wraxby
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match--"it's nothing; you and I'll do it." "And I'll help if you like," added Noaks, who thought the present occasion a good opportunity to distinguish himself. "All right," continued Thurston: "you go down town and get some screws, Noaks--two or three good long ones." "Well, we'll fix to-morrow night," said Fletcher. "Keep awake, and meet at the top of B
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staircase, say at one o'clock; then there's no fear but what every one'll be asleep." The Triple Alliance had for some hours ceased to puzzle their brains over either Virgil or cipher notes, and the whole of Ronleigh College was apparently wrapped in slumber, when three shadowy figures assembled on the landing at the top of staircase B, and proceeded
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noiselessly along the corridor, and down the side passage at the end of which Mr. Grice's room was situated. "Have you got the screws?" "Yes," answered Noaks, producing a twist of paper from his pocket. "Don't you think I'd better go and keep _cave_ at the top of the stairs?" whispered Fletcher. "No," returned Thurston; "Noaks can do that. I'll
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make the two holes, and you must put the screws in; you're the best carpenter of the lot." Standing in the cold, dark passage, the work seemed to take ages to perform; but at length it was finished. "Hist! what are you doing?" Fletcher had produced a scrap of paper from his pocket, and was seemingly about to slip it
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under the door. "I want to make certain that it shall be put down to Oaks," he whispered; "so in case the screw-driver should be overlooked, I'm going to slip this under the door for Grice to find in the morning." Thurston glanced at the paper, and saw printed thereon in bold capitals the following inscription:-- "BE IN TIME BY
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THE SCHOOL CLOCK." . REAPING THE WHIRLWIND. Work at Ronleigh commenced with a sort of half-hour's preliminary practice in the various classrooms; the school then assembled for prayers, after which came breakfast. During the progress of this meal on the Friday morning, in the small hours of which had been enacted the scene described at the end of the previous
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chapter, it became evident that "something was up." The table, at which sat most of the boys of the Third Form, was in a state of great disorder, while the discussion of some topic of unusual interest seemed to be occupying the attention of the prefects. It was not, however, until after the boys had swarmed out of the dining-hall
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that the reason of this subdued commotion became generally known; and then, like the sudden report of an explosion, every one seemed to become acquainted with the news at the same moment. Mr. Grice had been screwed up in his bedroom! Oaks and Allingford had done it! The doctor had summoned them to meet him in his study! It was
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from a member of the Third Form that the Triple Alliance heard the particulars of what had happened. "'Little Grice,'" said this young gentleman, whose own height was about four feet two inches--"'little Grice' never turned up until just before the bell rang for prayers, and then he was simply bursting with rage, and told us all about it. They'd
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put a note under his door telling him to be in time by the school clock; and besides that, when one of the men went to get him out, he found a screw-driver with Oaks's name on, so it's as clear as day who did it." This conversation took place in the quadrangle. Travers, the Third Form boy, rushed off
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to impart his information to other hearers, and the three chums passed on through the archway, and came to a stand-still in a quiet corner of the paved playground. "Well," asked Diggory, "who did it?" "Who d'you think it was?" retorted Jack Vance. "Why, some of Thurston's lot, I believe." "So do I." Mugford, who was always rather slow at
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grasping a new idea, opened his eyes in astonishment. "But," he exclaimed, "how about the paper and the screw-driver?" "Pooh!" answered Diggory, "how about that cipher note that said, 'To-night'?" "Of course," added Jack Vance, "they'd evidently arranged it beforehand, and that paper was to say when they were to do the trick." It seems possible sometimes to come by
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wrong roads to a right conclusion; and though the boys were mistaken in changing from their first opinion as to the meaning of the note, yet in this instance their error caused them to hit the right nail on the head. "It was one of Thurston's lot who did it," repeated Diggory decisively; "neither Oaks nor Allingford would ever dream
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of doing such a mad thing." "I don't see exactly how you can prove it," said Jack Vance thoughtfully; "that one word 'To-night' might mean anything." "Of course it's no proof in itself," answered the other; "but what I mean to say is, that if the doctor, or any other sensible chap, knew all we do about the cipher, and
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what they said at their last meeting, he wouldn't doubt for a moment but that it was one of them who screwed up Grice's door. Travers says the doctor has sent for Oaks and old Ally; it'll be an awful shame if they get into a row." "I don't see how they are going to get out of it," sighed
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Mugford. "Then I do," answered Diggory stoutly, with a sudden flash in his bright eyes: "the Triple Alliance can get them out!" "How?" "Why, we must tell all we know, and show Dr. Denson the note." "When?" "Now." "Won't it be sneaking?" "I should consider we were beastly sneaks if we didn't." "So we should be!" exclaimed Jack Vance. "They've
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always been jolly decent to us, and it was on our account they had this row with Grice." "If Noaks finds we've split, he'll send that knife to the police," said Mugford. "I don't care a straw what Noaks does," answered Diggory boldly. "You fellows needn't have anything to do with it; I'll go and tell Dr. Denson myself." "No;
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I'll come too," said Jack. "So'll I," added Mugford; and off they started. It was always a great ordeal to enter the doctor's study, even in what might be termed times of peace; and now, as Diggory turned the handle of the door, in answer to the muffled "Come in" which had followed his knock, the three friends experienced a
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sudden shortness of breath, and an unpleasant sinking sensation at the pit of the stomach. The two prefects were standing at the front of the writing-table. Allingford's face was very white, and Oaks's very red, "for all the world like the Wars of the Roses," as Jack Vance afterwards remarked, though it would be difficult to clearly understand the simile.
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The head-master glanced round for a moment to see who had entered the room, and, without taking any further notice of the three juveniles, continued the speech he was in the act of making when they entered the apartment. "I am not going to defend the action of Mr. Grice," he was saying. "We are all apt to make mistakes,
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and I will tell you candidly that on this occasion I think Mr. Grice was unwise; but it is absolutely necessary that I should uphold the authority of my masters. If boys consider they are not justly dealt with, they have me to appeal to; but the idea that disputes between the two should be settled by practical joking is
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simply outrageous. This is the first instance of the kind that I ever remember to have happened at Ronleigh, and I tell you plainly that I am determined to make an example of the offenders." "I assure you, sir," said Oaks, in a low, agitated voice, "that we have had no hand in this matter." "I am sorry even to
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seem to doubt your word, Oaks," answered the doctor, "but I think you must own that appearances are very much against you. A screw-driver bearing your name was found in the passage, and this piece of paper, which was pushed under the bedroom door, and which now lies before me, bears a direct reference to the dispute about the school
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time. As far as I can see at present, the only conclusion which can be arrived at is that this is an act of retaliation which has sprung from your contention with Mr. Grice." The captain was about to speak, but Dr. Denson held up his hand. "As I said before," he continued, "I am sorry, Allingford, even to appear
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to doubt your word; I have always had reason to rely with confidence upon the integrity and honour of my prefects, and believe me, this interview is to me an exceedingly painful one. The matter, however, is too serious to be passed over lightly, and you must hear me to the end. The conduct of the school during the present
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term has been far from satisfactory: two acts of gross misconduct have already been committed, and I cannot but blame those whom I hold mainly responsible for the order of the school that in both instances the offenders should have gone unpunished. It seems hardly possible to me that such things should happen without its coming to the ears of
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the prefects who were the perpetrators of the deeds in question. Here we have a third example of the same thing. If neither of you took any actual part in screwing up this door, I am still inclined to think that you must have been cognizant of the act, and I demand to know the names of the offenders. Take
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