CHAPTER XVII

GARRETT IS ANGRY

When Andrew left his cousin on the college walk he was in a very angry mood. He was quite sure that Henning did not know whether he was guilty or not, and he was satisfied that he had so guarded his words in his unexpected interview that Roy would not be able to take anything he had said as an admission of guilt. As soon as he discovered the drift of his cousin's remarks he made up his mind that he would not be betrayed into any speech that afterward might be used against him.

He had actually started out, as Henning had done, to find his cousin to talk with him. It will be remembered that he had used a very conciliatory tone, and spoke to his relative by his Christian name. He was acting at the moment under one of the few good impulses that came to him at that period of his life. But all this was most unfortunately frustrated by Henning's miserable ill-humor of the moment.

Returning to the yard after this stormy interview, he met the two boys, who, unfortunately, exercised the worst influence over him of any boys in the school, Smithers and Stockley. Nothing could have been more inopportune than their presence just when he was sore in spirit and angry. He was sore and more or less ashamed at the part he had played in regard to his cousin's reputation. He was not always without touches of compunction on this subject. He was angry, too, because of the recent interview. He knew that on account of this very anger he would very likely do more injury to Henning. His mind was in that state that made it ripe for any mischief these two worthies might suggest.

"We have been looking for you, Garrett. Where have you been?" said Smithers.

"Along the walk."

"Some one in the yard said you had gone hobnobbing with your respectable relative," remarked Stockley.

"I was talking with him for a while, but not hobnobbing, as you call it."

"What had he to say?" asked Smithers. There was an ugly, vindictive leer on Smithers' face which Garrett never liked and which in his better moments he detested. He really despised him, and all his life he had never associated with this class of boy. Not being in very good humor, he said:

"He had no compliments for you, at any rate."

"Didn't expect he had. It's not very likely that one hanging over a precipice with regard to his reputation, as he is, would have any compliments for any one. But what did he say, anyway?"

"Oh, nothing!" answered Garrett. "I find that he is more fully aware of the suspicions against him than I imagined. He is pretty sore under them, I can tell you."

Smithers' eyes glittered with satisfaction. By a strange perversion he was pleased that Henning was suffering. Why? The answer is difficult. Because, perhaps, Henning had done him many a good turn. In time of necessity he was glad enough to receive assistance. When better times came for him, he promptly forgot. He lacked gratitude. He was only one more exemplification of the old adage: "If you want to lose a friend, lend him money, and if you want to gain an enemy put some one under great obligations to you."

"Sore, is he? I can make him sorer still. Have you heard what has been found?" asked Smithers, looking first at Stockley and then at Garrett.

Had the latter been a little more observant he would have noticed Smithers' eyelids twitch in an unmistakably nervous way, and his fingers open and close spasmodically.

"No, I have not. Not the stolen money, I suppose," laughed Garrett mirthlessly.

"Not much," said Smithers, "that's not likely to be found. I guess that's gone for good."

"What then?"

"A piece of writing!"

"Whose?"

"Henning's."

"Of what nature? What has it to do with the suspicion in the yard?"

"It has a good deal to do with it."

"Well, out with it, if you have anything to tell. I'm tired of this dallying. What's up?"

Garrett, still out of temper, was quite testy. It can be seen that he had very little respect for these boys. He made no pretense of choosing his words with them.

Smithers, nothing daunted by the surly manner in which he had been addressed, after more or less fumbling, drew from the inside pocket of his coat a crumpled sheet of letter-paper. It bore the college printed address on the top, and was dated December 23.

"Whose writing is that, do you think?" asked Smithers.

"I don't know. Let me look at it. Yes, I do though! It's my cousin's! What does he say?"

He straightened out the creases and read the letter hurriedly.

"Phew! by all that's great, this is a stunner!" said Garrett.

The other two boys exchanged glances of satisfaction. Smithers' eyelids twitched more than ever.

"Where did you get this from?"

"No matter where it came from," answered Stockley; "it's just what we want to settle this business. It has been hanging fire long enough. It ought to be settled for everybody's sake. I think this will do it."

Garrett did not like his cousin, and hitherto had not been above doing him a bad turn occasionally. He was recognized, more or less, as the mouthpiece of those opposed to Roy. To do Andrew justice it must be admitted that he never quite realized what injury he was doing his cousin. A full realization of the injustice of his course was not to come to him for a long time, but now, since this interview, he was very uneasy. If Henning was determined to act on the offensive, he must prepare to defend himself. Here was a piece of paper, luckily thrown in his way, with which he could divert suspicion from himself should his cousin be goaded into retaliating. He knew enough of Roy's character to realize that he would have his hands full, if that individual decided to take the initiative in the tangle.

But what of the "find" of Smithers? What important piece of information did it contain which was evidently so detrimental to Henning as to draw the sudden exclamation of surprise from Garrett's lips? It was not a complete letter, but merely a first draft. It ran as follows: "My dear friend."

The word "friend" had been marked through and "chum" inserted instead.

"Your letter rec'd last Monday. Sorry to say that ... have no money now ... so can't possibly do the thing you wish ... awfully sorry ... feel like stealing the money rather than letting this thing go undone. However, wait till the end of Christmas week. It won't be too late then. Something's going to happen before that! Then we can go into partnership--at least for the merit of the thing. Keep everything dark. Don't say a single word to anybody about it. Mind now, chum, everything must be kept a secret, or--smash. Yours, Roy H."

The missive, or first copy of one, looked mysterious enough. To these boys into whose possession it had by some means fallen, it had a decidedly dark-lantern appearance. To their minds, in view of what had happened near the end of the Christmas week, the words seemed to have a peculiarly sinister meaning in proportion to each one's prejudice.

Was the sketch of the proposed letter genuine? There was no doubt as to that in Garrett's mind. Everybody knew Henning's writing. Without hesitation Garrett pronounced it genuine.

But what could the letter mean? Had his cousin deliberately planned the robbery? Smithers believed, or said he believed, this to be the case. Garrett knew better. In spite of this letter he knew that was too absurd a notion to entertain. He was, nevertheless, shrewd enough to see the value of this crumpled note as a weapon of defense for himself.

He deliberately put it into his pocket.

"Hold on there, Garrett!" exclaimed Smithers, "that note belongs to me."

"Excuse me," replied Andrew, "but I believe it belongs strictly to Roy Henning."

"No, it doesn't. It's my property. I risked--I mean I discovered it, and it's mine."

"I beg your pardon, but for the present you may consider it my property. There may be further risk, you know, for you. It will be quite safe, I assure you, in my keeping."

"Well, I'll be hanged!" exclaimed the dismayed Smithers.

"Shouldn't wonder in the least--some day," replied Garret imperturbably.

"But it's mine!"

"Beg to differ with you. It never was yours. It is mine now, at least for a time. I haven't decided yet what to do with it--whether to tear it up, or restore it to its rightful owner."

He intended to do neither one nor the other. He had formed his plan, but he had not the slightest intention of taking either Stockley or Smithers into his confidence. The latter was very angry at the loss of the letter, but he knew very well that he could not get it back until Garrett pleased to return it. His ill-humor was not lessened when Garrett said as he walked away:

"By the way, I should recommend you to say nothing about this so-called 'find' of yours, you fellows, for I am strongly under the impression that it is bogus, and besides, it might be difficult to convince people you came by it honestly."

Smithers' eyelids exhibited that nervous twitching more rapidly than ever.