Read Ebook: Sinclair's luck by Westerman Percy F Percy Francis

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Ebook has 194 lines and 10423 words, and 4 pages

He paused. Tiny regarded the doctor dumfoundedly. And then that irritating cough made itself known again.

Dr. Narfield waited until the fit was over.

"Perhaps, Desmond," he resumed, "you will kindly explain why this was found in your handbag?"

He pointed to a large dish on a side table. On it, writhing gently, was an eel, about ten inches in length.

"That--er--pet," continued the Head, "nearly frightened the housekeeper into hysterics when she opened your bag. You are, of course, aware that pets are permitted at Stockmere, but there are limits in the choice of a selection. Now, Desmond, please explain."

Desmond hesitated. The affair wanted some explanation, but he wasn't at all sure that his elucidation was a correct one.

"I can't exactly explain, sir," he replied. "I didn't put it into my bag, and I certainly didn't intend to frighten Mrs. Symonds or anybody."

"Then how did it get into your bag?" asked the Head patiently. Previous experiences had taught him the advisability of a patient hearing and not to judge by circumstantial evidence. He knew perfectly well the best way to detect a guilty culprit was to let him tell his story without comment until he had made the fatal error of condemning himself.

"It was like this, sir," explained Desmond. "The train was crowded, and I rode in the guard's van. In the van, amongst other things, was a large box labelled 'Eels--Perishable.' It had a small crack in it, and very soon I saw an eel's tail appear. Then somehow other tails found their way through and the box began to open."

Dr. Narfield nodded. He knew from personal experience that eels have frequently been known to force open heavy boxes in which they are packed for transit.

"Go on, Desmond," he said gravely. Tiny, finding that the Head did not ridicule his tale, plunged into his narrative without further hesitation.

"I told the guard," he continued, "but he was busy writing in a book, and told me it wasn't his business. It wasn't mine, so I just watched. And before we got to Little Porton the eels had forced open the box and were wriggling all over the place--hundreds of them, sir. The guard got the wind up then--I mean, sir, he was in a bit of a funk. I didn't exactly care for it myself, although it was a topping rag to watch. So we both sat on some luggage and kept our feet up, although at every station the guard had to get out. And a crowd of eels got out, too. There were dozens of them left on every platform, and by the time we got to Colbury Monkton the van was almost empty. I must have left my bag unfastened--in fact, I remember closing it when I got out--so I suppose one of them wriggled in."

The Head smiled.

"That explanation is quite satisfactory, Desmond," he remarked. "You may go."

"MEETING THE CASE"

AT dinner that evening, a rather informal meal, at which the Head and the housemasters discuss the wholly absorbing topic of boys, Dr. Narfield related his interview with Desmond.

"Precisely," interrupted the Head. "That was the fact to which I was going to refer. He's a big fellow obviously outgrowing his strength. I don't like that cough. It's strange his people didn't notice it. Some parents never do. However, Collier, without frightening the lad, send him over to the sanatorium to-morrow morning and get Dr. Anderson to run over him. I believe I mentioned that Sinclair was leaving this term?"

"Yes, indeed," replied the sixth form housemaster. "And I'm very sorry to hear it. We'll miss him in the next inter-school sports."

Dr. Narfield sighed. Even years of experience of this sort of thing--of promising pupils leaving just as they were doing sterling work for the good and honour of the school--had not made him indifferent to the continual changes that are inevitable.

"And just as he was showing promise of gaining his Matric," he added gloomily. "Case of financial difficulties, I am informed. It's a strange England nowadays, Collier. All ups and downs, and goodness only knows what things are coming to. Yes, I'm sorry for Sinclair."

"Now hold your breath ... count ten ... say, 'Ah.'"

Dr. Anderson tapped Desmond with his stethoscope.

"Again .... Cough."

Tiny Desmond tried to cough, but without success. That irritating cough of his had a nasty habit of asserting itself at very inconvenient times, but now, when the doctor wanted him to cough, he simply couldn't.

"All right, Desmond. Get your clothes on. I'll make you up a little medicine. For the present I must keep you here."

"In the sanny, doctor!" exclaimed the astonished Tiny. "Why, sir, is there anything very much wrong with me?"

The doctor smiled.

"You want to go into dock for a slight overhaul and refit, Desmond," he replied. "Nothing much, but if neglected, your cough will develop into something serious. You've been maintaining a full head of steam in a boiler with defective tubes. Those tubes haven't blown out yet, but they might. You understand what I mean? Very well, then. It's merely a matter of going slow, taking reasonable precautions, and undergoing a sort of treatment, and we'll soon have you fit again."

Tiny Desmond nodded gravely. He was not deceived by the kindly doctor's words. What he imagined was wrong with him for some time past--he had tried over and over again to treat it lightly--was no illusion. It was lung trouble.

Dr. Anderson turned his thumbs down. There was no mistaking the significance of the act.

"Quite all right in the uplands of the interior," replied Dr. Anderson. "The coast and the forest regions--no. Why do you ask?"

"Because not half an hour ago I received a letter from my brother Herbert," explained the Head. "You know he left there to take up an official appointment in Ceylon. His papers were cancelled for some reason, and instead he was given a post as mining engineer at Kilembonga, which is, I believe, about a hundred miles north-west of Tabora. He asks if I know of a couple of Stockmere boys about to leave school who would be willing to act as his assistants. Curiously enough, he mentioned Desmond and Sinclair."

"The very thing!" ejaculated Dr. Anderson. "You were telling me about young Sinclair--a hard case. I feel sorry for that lad."

The outcome of the conversation resulted in Colin Sinclair and Tiny Desmond being called to the Head's study. Briefly Dr. Narfield outlined his brother's request.

"It is a healthy life," he continued, "and there are excellent prospects of qualifying for a well-paid profession. If you two fellows would like to go, I will write to your respective parents, and if they are agreeable there's no reason why you shouldn't be in what was recently German East Africa in less than a couple of months. But I suppose you want time to consider matters?"

Tiny looked at Colin, and Colin looked at Tiny. It was a case of spontaneous mutual telepathy.

"No need for that, sir," declared Tiny, "we're on it--I mean, sir, we are only too delighted."

"Rather, sir!" agreed Sinclair heartily. Then, suddenly remembering, he added: "But I'm afraid, sir, the cost would be ... I don't mind mentioning it before Desmond, because he knows. I've told him about things at home. I'm afraid my people couldn't afford the expense of a journey to Africa."

"That is a detail that can be gone into later," observed Dr. Narfield mildly. "The question is, are you anxious to go?"

"Yes, sir," replied Colin simply.

"Very well," rejoined the Head. "That's all for the present. You may go."

And with these somewhat ambiguous words ringing in their ears, the two chums hurried out to discuss between themselves the portentous event that loomed large on their mental horizon.

For his part, Dr. Narfield was as enthusiastic as the two lads over the proposal. He had no doubt but that Desmond's people would willingly give the required permission, especially in view of the fact that the climate was in every way suited to effect Desmond's complete recovery.

Sinclair's case was different. Although the Head was not aware by the tone of Colin's father's letter of the extreme financial straits in which Mr. Sinclair found himself, he was able to form a fairly accurate opinion of the situation.

Had Mr. Desmond and Mr. Sinclair had the opportunity of comparing notes, they would have seen an important difference in the text of the Head's letter. In that to Colin's father Dr. Narfield concluded with the bold announcement that "Your son's passage will be paid." Nicholas Narfield believed in doing good turns by stealth.

FAREWELL

NEXT morning Colin Sinclair bade farewell to Stockmere School. It cannot be said that he did so reluctantly. His mind was so full of the tremendous adventure which confronted him that he hardly realised he was passing another landmark in his career.

He had parted with his school-fellows amid unanimous good wishes and envious regrets. Mr. Collier, his housemaster, gave him some sound advice, which, seemingly falling upon deaf ears, served a useful purpose before many months had passed. He also handed the lad a small box wrapped up in brown paper--a gift that Colin afterwards found to be a tabloid medicine chest.

The Head was moved to the verge of tears during his farewell interview, at which Colin wondered. There seemed a vast difference between the austere pedagogue and the frail, sympathetic man--yet they were one and the same.

"And, Colin," he concluded, "I want you to accept and use this little gift. You will find it more of a protection than a rifle."

Ten minutes later Colin was bowling along towards Colbury Monkton in a taxi. Then, and only then, did the thought strike him that he was leaving Stockmere for good. He might see the school again--he hoped he would as an Old Boy--but there was a chance that he might not.

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