The King of the School, or, Who will Win? — page 124: what you’re looking at

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118 THE KING OF THE SCHOOL; OR, WHO WILL WIN? Frank and Ralph, the constable, shook their heads. “What do you mean?” asked the sergeant. “ There is another method of getting away.” “ What’s that 2?” “ By water.” “But she can’t swim, can she?” asked the sergeant, opening his eyes with astonishment. “No; but there are plenty of boats about Ballsbury, some of them owned by people of not the best character. “By jingo! yes,and about seven miles down stream is Winton, with a railway station. The night mail stops there about ten. Go, Ralph, telegraph over _~~you know what to say.” ‘“ But if she was taken to London at ten, how does it happen that this letter was not put under my door till after eleven ?” asked old Mr. Conway. “That is a puzzler, certainly. I should have thought that after saying she had gone to London, the letter would have been posted there. He ain’t such a clever fellow after all, and we shall nail him.” All the forenoon, and two or three hours after mid-day; these three people sat and consulted and made inquiries, but all with the same result. About three o’clock in the afternoon, Frank, whose heart seemed ready to burst with the accumulated load of anxiety, took up his hat and walked out. He felt that he would burst into tears if he sat there much longer watching the haggard woe-begone features of old Mr. Conway; and although there would have been nothing very disgraceful in his weep- ing, he was too proud to do so in public. So he walked away with rapid steps and had soon got clear of the town. People who saw him striding along fancied that there was another such a hight as they had witnessed a few days before. This fiery young champion was going to the rescue of his comrades, No such thing, however. When he had got quite a mile beyond the town, it suddenly occurred to Frank that he was walking more like a lunatic than a rational being. He slackened his pace, then halted and turned. “What an idiot I am to walk out here!” he exclaimed to himself. ‘“‘ What a waste of time, too! Why, I might have been watching for Baynes all this time.” Less than twenty minutes afterwards Frank enter a little street running parallel to that in which the “Spotted Dog” was situated. He paused before the back entrance of a public-house, which had another frontage exactly facing the low hostelry in which young Baynes had taken up his abode. There was great rivalry between the two houses, and when Frank explained that he wished to watch the “Spotted Dog,” the landlord of the “ Brindled Cat,” whose only and daily prayer was that the opposition establishment might loose its license, at once showed him into a private parlour from the window of which he had a good view. “That's a great’ willin, sir, as keeps the ‘ Dawg,’” observed the man. “He and his pot-boy was amongst the crowd as you fought the t’other night, “Was he?” “Yes: and their pot-boy, which is a duffer, told my lad as how they were all set on to it by a young gent as runr-d - away from your school.” “T thought so; and I want to see that young gent, as you call him.” “I seed him there not a hour ago. and I don’t think he have been oug since.” ‘Thank you for that piece of infor- mation.” | . > Welcome, sir. Take anything, sir?” | | “Yes. You may bring me a bottle of stout and a biscuit.” | “Got the best of both in the house, sir,” was mine host’s exclamation, ay he rolled out of the room ECOMMICL OC (S(O) mn