Hector's Inheritance, Or, the Boys of Smith Institute

CHAPTER XIX. A DRAMATIC SCENE

It was generally after vespers that Mr. Smith communicated to the school anything which he desired to call to their attention. This was to be the occasion of bringing our hero into disgrace.

The boys assembled, most of them quite ignorant that anything exceptional was to occur. Hector himself, the person chiefly interested, was entirely unconscious that he was to be made “a shining mark” for the arrows of suspicion and obloquy. If he had noticed the peculiar and triumphantly malicious looks with which Jim Smith, the bully and tyrant, whom he had humiliated and deposed, regarded him, he might have been led to infer that some misfortune was in store for him. But these looks he did not chance to notice.

There were two other boys, however, who did notice them. These were Ben Platt and Wil-kins, who had very good reasons, as we know, for doing so.

“I believe old Sock is going to pitch into Roscoe at vespers,” said Ben, in a whisper, to his roommate.

“So do I. There’s a look about him like that of a tiger about to pounce on his prey.”

“Or a cat with murderous designs on a mouse.”

“We must expose the whole thing.”

“Of course.”

“Won’t Jim be mad?”

“Let him! He won’t dare to thrash us while Roscoe is round.”

There was, indeed, about Socrates Smith an air of mystery, portentous and suggestive. He looked like one meditating a coup d’etat, or, perhaps, it might better be said, a coup de main, as the hand is with schoolmasters, generally, the instrument of attack.

When the proper time arrived, Mr. Smith cleared his throat, as he always did before beginning to speak.

“Boys,” he said, “I have an important, and I may say, a painful, communication to make to you.”

All the boys looked at each other in curiosity, except the three who were already in the secret.

“You know, boys,” continued Socrates, “how proud I am of this institute, how zealous I am for its good reputation, how unwearied I am in my efforts for your progress and welfare.”

Mr. Smith’s unwearied efforts were largely in the line of making out and receipting bills for tuition, and it may be said that this was to him by far the most agreeable of the duties he undertook to perform.

“I have been proud of my pupils,” continued the principal, “and it has given me pleasure to reflect that you all reflected credit, more or less, upon my teaching. I have, also, sought to form your manners, to train you to fill the positions which Providence may have in store for you. In a word, while from time to time you may have indulged in little escapades, slightly-culpable, I have felt that you were all gentlemen.”

“What in the world does he mean?” thought more than one puzzled boy. “What is all this leading to?”

Among those to whom this thought occurred, was Hector Roscoe, who was very far from conjecturing that all this long preamble was to introduce an attack upon him.

“But,” proceeded Socrates, after a pause, “I have this afternoon been painfully undeceived. I have learned, with inexpressible pain, that Smith Institute has received an ineffaceable stigma.”

“Old Sock is getting eloquent!” whispered Ben Platt.

“I have learned,” continued Socrates, with tragic intensity, “that I have nourished a viper in my bosom! I have learned that we have a thief among us!”

This declaration was greeted with a buzz of astonishment. Each boy looked at his next door neighbor as if to inquire, “Is it you?”

Each one, except the three who were behind the scenes. Of these, Jim Smith, with an air of supreme satisfaction, looked in a sidelong way at Hector, unconscious the while that two pairs of eyes—those of Wilkins and Ben Platt—were fixed upon him.

“I thought you would be surprised,” said the principal, “except, of course, the miserable criminal. But I will not keep you in suspense. To-day, by inadvertence, I left my wallet, containing a considerable sum of money, on the bureau in my chamber. An hour later, discovering my loss, I went upstairs, but the wallet was gone. It had mysteriously disappeared. I was at a loss to understand this at first, but I soon found a clew. I ascertained that a boy—a boy who is presently one of the pupils of Smith Institute—had entered my chamber, had appropriated the wallet, had carried it to his dormitory, and there had slyly concealed it in the pocket of a pair of pants. Doubtless, he thought his theft would not be discovered, but it was, and I myself discovered the missing wallet in its place of concealment.”

Here Mr. Smith paused, and it is needless to say that the schoolroom was a scene of great excitement. His tone was so impressive, and his statement so detailed, that no one could doubt that he had most convincing evidence of the absolute accuracy of what he said.

“Who was it?” every boy had it on his lips to inquire.

“Three hours have elapsed since my discovery,” continued Mr. Smith. “During that time I have felt unnerved. I have, however, written and posted an account of this terrible discovery to the friends of the pupil who has so disgraced himself and the school.”

Ben Platt and Wilkins exchanged glances of indignation. They felt that Mr. Smith had been guilty of a piece of outrageous injustice in acting thus before he had apprised the supposed offender of the charge against him, and heard his defense. Both boys decided that they would not spare Jim Smith, but at all hazards expose the contemptible plot which he had contrived against his schoolfellow.

“I waited, however, till I was somewhat more calm before laying the matter before you. I know you will all be anxious to know the name of the boy who has brought disgrace upon the school to which you belong, and I am prepared to reveal it to you. Hector Roscoe, stand up!”

If a flash of lightning had struck him where he sat, Hector could not have been more astonished. For a moment he was struck dumb, and did not move.

“Stand up, Hector Roscoe!” repeated the principal. “No wonder you sit there as if paralyzed. You did not expect that so soon your sin would find you out.”

Then Hector recovered completely his self-possession. He sprang to his feet, and not only that, but he strode forward, blazing with passion, till he stood before Mr. Smith’s desk and confronted him.

“Mr. Smith!” he said, in a ringing tone, “do I understand you to charge me with stealing a wallet of yours containing money?”

“I do so charge you, and I have complete evidence of the truth of my charge. What have you to say?”

“What have I to say?” repeated Hector, looking around him proudly and scornfully. “I have to say that it is an infamous lie!”

“Hold, sir!” exclaimed Socrates, angrily. “Shameless boy, do you intend to brazen it out? Did I not tell you that I had complete proof of the truth of the charge?”

“I don’t care what fancied proof you have. I denounce the charge as a lie.”

“That won’t do, sir! I myself took the wallet from the pocket of your pantaloons, hanging in the chamber. Mrs. Smith was with me and witnessed my discovery, and there was another present, one of the pupils of this institute, who also can testify to the fact. It is useless for you to deny it!”

“You found the wallet in the pocket of my pantaloons?” asked Hector, slowly.

“Yes. There can be no doubt about that.”

“Who put it there?” demanded Hector, quickly.

Socrates Smith was staggered, for he had not expected this query from the accused.

“Who put it there?” he repeated.

“Yes, sir,” continued Hector, firmly. “If the matter is as you state it, some one has been mean enough to put the wallet into my pocket in order to implicate me in a theft.”

“Of course you put it there yourself, Roscoe. Your defense is very lame.”

Hector turned round to his fellow-scholars.

“Boys,” he said, “you have heard the charge that has been made against me. You know me pretty well by this time. Is there any one of you that believes it to be true?”

“No! No!” shouted the boys, with one exception. Jim Smith was heard to say distinctly, “I believe it!”

“Silence in the school!” shouted Socrates. “This is altogether irregular, and I won’t have it.”

Hector turned to the principal, and said, calmly:

“You see, Mr. Smith, that, in spite of your proof, these boys will not believe that your charge is well founded.”

“That is neither here nor there, Roscoe. Will anyone step up and prove your innocence?”

There was another sensation. In the second row back a boy was seen to rise.

“Mr. Smith,” said Ben Platt, “I can prove Roscoe’s innocence!”

CHAPTER XX. HECTOR GAINS A VICTORY

There were two persons on whom Ben Platt’s declaration made a profound impression. These were Jim Smith and his uncle, the learned Socrates. The latter was surprised, for he was fully persuaded that the charge he had made was a true one, and Hector was a thief. As for Jim, his surprise was of a very disagreeable nature. Knowing as he did that, he himself had taken the money, he was alarmed lest his offense was to be made known, and that the pit which he had digged for another should prove to be provided for himself.

Socrates was the first to speak after taking time to recover himself from his surprise.

“This is a very extraordinary statement, Platt,” he said. “You say you can prove Roscoe’s innocence?”

“Yes, sir,” answered Platt, firmly.

“I wish no trifling here, sir,” said the principal, sharply. “I myself found the wallet in Roscoe’s pocket.”

“Yes, sir,” answered Ben Platt, “I know it was there.”

“You knew it was there!” repeated Socrates. “How did you know it was there?”

“Because I saw it put in.”

Here Jim Smith’s face turned from red to pale, and he moved about uneasily in his seat. “Could Ben Platt have been hidden somewhere in the room?” he asked himself, “If so, what was he to do?” There was but one answer to this question. He must brazen it out, and boldly contradict the witness. But he would bide his time. He would wait to hear what Ben had to say.

“Did you put it in yourself?” asked Socrates, savagely.

“No, Mr. Smith, I didn’t put it in,” answered Ben, indignantly.

“None of your impudence, sir!” said the schoolmaster, irritated.

“I merely answered your question and defended myself,” answered Ben.

There was a little murmur among the pupils, showing that their sympathy was with the boy who had been so causelessly accused by the principal.

“Silence!” exclaimed Socrates, annoyed. “Now,” he continued, turning to Ben, “since you know who put the wallet into Roscoe’s pocket—a very remarkable statement, by the way—will you deign to inform me who did it?”

“James Smith did it!” said Ben, looking over to the principal’s nephew, who was half expecting such an attack.

“It’s a base lie!” cried Jim, but his face was blanched, his manner was nervous and confused, and he looked guilty, if he were not so.

“My nephew?” asked Socrates, flurried.

“Yes, sir.”

“It isn’t so, Uncle Socrates,” said Jim, excited. “I’ll lick you, Ben Platt, when we get out of school.”

“You forget yourself, James,” said Socrates, with a mildness he would not have employed with any other pupil.

“I beg your pardon, Uncle Socrates,” said Jim, with contrition, “but I can’t be silent when I am accused of things I don’t do.”

“To be sure, you have some excuse, but you should remember the respect you owe to me. Then you did not do it?”

“Certainly not, sir.”

“So it appears, Platt, that you have brought a false charge against your fellow-pupil,” said Mr. Smith, severely. “I can conceive of nothing meaner.”

“Mr. Smith,” said Hector, “what right have you to say that the charge is false? Is it the denial of your nephew? If he took the wallet he would, of course, deny it.”

“So would you!” retorted Socrates.

“No one saw me conceal it,” said Hector, significantly.

Then Wilkins rose.

“Mr. Smith,” he said, “I have some evidence to offer.”

“Out with it, sir,” said the principal, angrily, for he was fighting against an inward conviction that his nephew was really the guilty party.

“I was walking along the corridor about the time Platt speaks of Smith’s visit to Roscoe’s room, and I met your nephew walking in the opposite direction. When I entered the room, Platt told me that, half-concealed by the closet door, he had seen Jim Smith enter and thrust the wallet into Roscoe’s pocket. Soon after, you and Mrs. Smith came into the room, guided by your nephew, who let you know just where the wallet was hidden. He had very good reasons for knowing,” added Wilkins.

If a look would have annihilated Wilkins, the look directed towards him by Jim Smith would have had that effect.

“It’s a conspiracy against me, Uncle Socrates,” said Jim, intent upon brazening it out. “They’re all in league together.”

“The testimony of Wilkins doesn’t amount to much!” said Mr. Smith. “He may have seen James in the corridor, but that is by no means a part of his complicity in this affair.”

“Just so!” said Jim, eagerly.

“Ben Platt’s evidence ought to count for something,” said Hector. “He saw your nephew putting the wallet into the pocket of my pants.”

Socrates was clearly perplexed. In spite of his partiality for his nephew, the case against him certainly looked very strong.

Hector, however, determined to make his defense even stronger.

“I would like to ask Platt,” he said, “at what time this took place?”

“At three o’clock.”

“How do you know it was three?” asked the principal, sharply.

“Because I heard the clock on the village church strike three.”

“I would like to ask another boy—Frank Lewis—if he heard the clock strike three?”

Lewis answered in the affirmative.

“Where were you at the time?”

“In the playground.”

“What were you doing?”

“Playing ball.”

“Was I in the game?”

“Yes.”

“How long had the game been going on?”

“Half an hour.”

“How long had the game been going on, do you know?”

“From half to three-quarters of an hour.”

“Can you remember whether I was with you all the time?”

“You were.”

“Now, Platt, will you tell me how long after the wallet was put into my pocket before Mr. Smith appeared in search of it?”

“Not over half an hour.”

“I submit, then,” said Hector, in a matter-of-fact manner, “that I was absent in the playground during the entire time when it was found in my room. I believe this is what lawyers call an alibi that I have, fortunately, been able to prove.”

“You are a very smart lawyer!” sneered the principal.

The boys were by this time so incensed at Mr. Smith’s evident effort to clear his nephew at the expense of Roscoe, that there was a very audible hiss, in which at least half a dozen joined.

“Is this rebellion?” asked Socrates, furiously.

“No, sir,” said Ben Platt, firmly. “We want justice done; that is all.”

“You shall have justice—all of you!” exclaimed Socrates, carried beyond the limits of prudence.

“I am glad to hear that, sir,” said Hector. “If you do not at once exonerate me from this charge, which you know to be false, and write to my guardian retracting it, I will bring the matter before the nearest magistrate.”

This was more than Socrates had bargained for. He saw that he had gone too far, and was likely to wreck his prospects and those of the school.

“I will look into the matter,” he said, hurriedly, “and report to the school hereafter. You may now apply yourselves to your studies.”

CHAPTER XXI. THE USHER IS DISCHARGED

Among the boys of Smith Institute there was but one opinion on the subject of the principal’s wallet. All acquitted Roscoe of having any part in the theft, and they were equally unanimous in the belief that Jim Smith had contrived a mean plot against the boy whom he could not conquer by fair means. There was a little informal consultation as to how Jim should be treated. It was finally decided to “send him to Coventry.”

As this phrase, which is well understood in English schools, may not be so clear to my readers, I will explain that Jim was to be refused notice by his schoolfellows, unless he should become aggressive, when he was to be noticed in a manner far from agreeable.

Jim could not help observing the cold looks of the boys, who but lately were glad enough to receive notice from him, and he became very angry. As to being ashamed of the exposure, he was not sensitive, nor did he often have any feeling of that kind. Naturally vindictive, he felt especially angry with the two boys, Ben Platt and Wilkins, whose testimony had proved so uncomfortable for him.

“I’ll thrash those boys if I never thrash another,” he said to himself. “So they have turned against me, have they? They’re only fit to black my boots anyway. I’ll give ‘em a lesson.”

Platt and Wilkins were expecting an attack. They knew that Jim would seize the opportunity of attacking them singly, and in the absence of Hector, of whom he was afraid, and with good reason. They concerted measures, accordingly, for defeating the common enemy.

Jim was stalking about the next day, looking sullen and feeling ugly. He could not help observing that whenever he approached a group of boys they immediately scattered and walked away in various directions. This naturally chafed him, for, having no intellectual resources, he found solitude oppressive. Besides, he had been accustomed to the role of boss, and where is a boss without followers?

Tired of the schoolroom precincts, Jim went to walk. In a rustic lane, much to his delight, he saw approaching him one of the boys who had so seriously offended him.

It was Ben Platt.

Ben was sauntering along in idle mood when he came face to face with the dethroned boss.

“So it’s you, Platt, is it?” said Jim, grimly.

“I believe it is,” answered Ben, coolly.

“I’ve got a word or two to say to you,” said Jim, significantly.

“Say them quick,” said Ben, “for I’m in a hurry.”

“I’m not,” said Jim, in his old tone, “and it makes no difference whether you are or not.”

“Indeed! you are as polite as usual,” returned Ben.

“Look here, you young whelp!” Jim broke forth, unable any longer to restrain his wrath, “what, did you mean by lying about me last evening?”

“I didn’t lie about you,” said Ben, boldly.

“Yes, you did. What made you say you saw me put that wallet into Roscoe’s pocket?”

“I can’t think of any reason, unless because it was true,” said Ben.

“Even if it were, how dared you turn against me? First you play the spy, and then informer. Paugh!”

“I see you admit it,” said Ben. “Well, if you want an answer I will give you one. You laid a plot for Hector Roscoe—one of the meanest, dirtiest plots I ever heard of, and I wasn’t going to see you lie him into a scrape while I could prevent it.”

“That’s enough, Platt!” exclaimed Jim, furiously. “Now, do you know what I am going to do?”

“I don’t feel particularly interested in the matter.”

“You will be, then. I am going to thrash you.”

“You wouldn’t if Hector Roscoe were here,” said Ben, not appearing to be much frightened.

“Well, he isn’t here, though if he were it wouldn’t make any difference. I’ll whip you so you can’t stand.”

Ben’s reply was to call “Wilkins!”

From a clump of bushes, where he had lurked, unobserved hitherto, sprang Wilkins, and joined his friend.

“There are two of us, Smith!” said Ben Platt.

“I can thrash you both,” answered Jim, whose blood was up.

Before the advent of Hector no two boys would have ventured to engage Jim in combat, but his defeat by a boy considerably smaller had lost him his prestige, and the boys had become more independent. He still fancied himself a match for both, however, and the conflict began. But both of his antagonists were in earnest, and Jim had a hard time.

Now, it so happened that Mr. Crabb, the usher, was taking a solitary walk, and had approached the scene of conflict unobserved by any of the participants. He arrived at an opportune time. Jim had managed to draw Wilkins away, and by a quick movement threw him. He was about to deal his prostrate foe a savage kick, which might have hurt him seriously, when the usher, quiet and peaceful as he was by nature, could restrain himself no longer. He rushed up, seized him by the collar, dragged him back and shook him with a strength he did not suppose he possessed, saying:

“Leave that boy alone, you brute!”

Jim turned quickly, and was very much surprised when he saw the meek usher, whom he had always despised, because he looked upon him as a Miss Nancy.

“So it’s you, is it?” he said, with a wicked glance.

“Yes, it is I,” answered the usher, manfully; “come up just in time to stop your brutality.”

“Is it any of your business?” demanded Jim, looking as if he would like to thrash the usher.

“I have made it my business. Platt and Wilkins, I advise you to join me, and leave this fellow, who has so disgraced himself as to be beneath your notice.”

“We will accompany you with pleasure, sir,” said the boys.

They regarded the usher with new respect for this display of courage, for which they had not given him credit.

“I’ll fix you, Crabb,” said Jim Smith, insolently, “and don’t you forget it!”

Mr. Crabb did not deign to answer him.

Jim Smith was as good as his word.

An hour later Mr. Crabb was summoned to the presence of the principal.

Socrates received him with marked coldness.

“Mr. Crabb,” he said, “I cannot conceal the amazement I feel at a complaint which has just been made by my nephew.”

“Well, sir?”

Mr. Crabb had nerved himself for the worst, and did not cower or show signs of fear, as Socrates expected he would.

“James tells me that you attacked him savagely this afternoon when he was having a little sport with two of his schoolfellows.”

“Is that what he says, Mr. Smith?”

“Yes, sir, and I require an explanation.”

“You shall have it. The sport in which your nephew was engaged was attempting to thrash Wilkins. He had him down, and was about to deal him a savage kick when I fortunately came up.”

“And joined in the fight,” sneered Socrates.

“Yes, if you choose to put it so. Would you have had me stand by, and see Wilkins brutally used?”

“Of course, you color the affair to suit yourself,” said Socrates, coldly. “The fact is that you, an usher, have lowered yourself by taking part in a playful schoolboy contest.”

“Playful!” repeated Mr. Crabb.

“Yes, and I shall show how I regard it by giving you notice that I no longer require your services in my school. I shall pay you up at the end of the week and then discharge you.”

“Mr. Smith,” said the usher, “permit me to say that anything more disgraceful than your own conduct within the last twenty-four hours I have never witnessed. You have joined your nephew in a plot to disgrace an innocent boy, declining to do justice, and now you have capped the climax by censuring me for stopping an act of brutality, merely because your nephew was implicated in it!”

“This to me?” exclaimed Socrates Smith, hardly crediting the testimony of his ears.

“Yes, sir, and more! I predict that the stupid folly which has characterized your course will, within six months, drive from you every scholar you have in your school!”

“Mr. Crabb,” gasped Socrates, never more surprised in his life than he was at the sudden spirit exhibited by the usher, “I will not be so insulted. Leave me, and to-morrow morning leave my service.”

“I will, sir. I have no desire to remain here longer.”

But when Mr. Crabb had walked away his spirit sank within him. How was he to obtain another situation? He must consult immediately with Hector Roscoe, in whose judgment, boy as he was, he reposed great confidence.