CHAPTER IV

THE PREFECTS GO OVER TO THE ENEMY

Sec.1

What more exciting than for the whole school to learn by rumour the next morning that all the prefects of Bramhall House had been mysteriously withdrawn from their Olympian class-rooms to a special cabinet meeting under the presidency of Stanley, the gorgeous house-captain?  Clearly some awful crime had been committed at Bramhall, and there would be a public whacking and an expulsion.  We humans may or may not be brutal, but life is certainly more stimulating when there is an execution in the air.

Chattering, prophesying, and wondering who was the criminal, we found our way to our various class-rooms.  It being First Period, Doe, Penny, and I were under Radley’s stern rule and obliged to sit quietly in our desks, knowing that he would allow no more licence on this exciting day than on any other.  Our heads were bent over our work when Bickerton, the junior prefect of Bramhall, entered the room, approached the master’s desk, and spoke in an undertone to Radley.

I saw—­for I was gazing at the new arrival over my work—­Radley look astonished, and turn his eyes in my direction.

“Ray.”

“Yes, sir.”

“You’re wanted in the Prefects’ Room.”

I remember the universal flutter of excitement and surprise; I remember Doe raising his head like a startled deer as I went out and shut the door; I remember catching, from outside, Radley’s sharp rebuke, “Get on with your work.”  His voice sounded strangely distant, and seemed to be on the happier side of a closed door.

Bickerton, who was enjoying himself, walked in front; and I followed behind, bringing my attention to bear upon keeping in step.  Rearranging my stride now and then, I marched through the empty corridors, listening to the drone of masters’ voices teaching in their class-rooms, and wondering at the loudness of our footsteps.  The sight of the prefects’ door gave me my first sense of fear.

Being a prefect and thus mightily privileged, Bickerton turned the door-handle of the room without knocking.  It was like laying a hand upon the Ark.  Into the holy place Doe and I had passed before, not as prisoners, but as patronised pets who were suffered to amuse the august tenants with our “lip” until we became too disrespectful, when we would be ejected with a kick.  This morning it struck strange and cold to hear Bickerton say: 

“Here’s the little bounder.”

I entered, and saw the whole array of Bramhall prefects assembled, Stanley, their senior, presiding.  Bickerton shut the door ceremoniously.