Bruce had been perfectly correct in his suspicions. Stanning's wristwas no more sprained than his ankle. The advisability of manufacturingan injury had come home to him very vividly on the Saturday morningfollowing the Ripton match, when he had read the brief report of thatpainful episode in that week's number of the _Field_ in the schoollibrary. In the list of the Ripton team appeared the name R. Peteiro.
He had heard a great deal about the dusky Riptonian when Drummond hadbeaten him in the Feather-Weights the year before. Drummond hadreturned from Aldershot on that occasion cheerful, but in an extremelybattered condition. His appearance as he limped about the field onSports Day had been heroic, and, in addition, a fine advertisement forthe punishing powers of the Ripton champion. It is true that at leastone of his injuries had been the work of a Pauline whom he had met inthe opening bout; but the great majority were presents from Ripton, andDrummond had described the dusky one, in no uncertain terms, as a holyterror.
These things had sunk into Stanning's mind. It had been generallyunderstood at Wrykyn that Peteiro had left school at Christmas. WhenStanning, through his study of the _Field_, discovered that theredoubtable boxer had been one of the team against which he had playedat Ripton, and realised that, owing to Drummond's illness, it wouldfall to him, if he won the House Competition, to meet this man of wrathat Aldershot, he resolved on the instant that the most persuasive ofwild horses should not draw him to that military centre on the day ofthe Public Schools Competition. The difficulty was that he particularlywished to win the House Cup. Then it occurred to him that he couldcombine the two things--win the competition and get injured while doingso.
Accordingly, two days after the House Boxing he was observed to issuefrom Appleby's with his left arm slung in a first fifteen scarf. He wastoo astute to injure his right wrist. What happens to one's left wristat school is one's own private business. When one injures one's rightarm, and so incapacitates oneself for form work, the authorities beginto make awkward investigations.
Mr Spence, who looked after the school's efforts to win medals atAldershot, was the most disappointed person in the place. He was anenthusiastic boxer--he had represented Cambridge in the Middle-Weightsin his day--and with no small trouble had succeeded in making boxing agoing concern at Wrykyn. Years of failure had ended, the Easter before,in a huge triumph, when O'Hara, of Dexter's and Drummond had won silvermedals, and Moriarty, of Dexter's, a bronze. If only somebody could wina medal this year, the tradition would be established, and would notsoon die out. Unfortunately, there was not a great deal of boxingtalent in the school just now. The rule that the winner at his weightin the House Competitions should represent the school at Aldershot onlyapplied if the winner were fairly proficient. Mr Spence exercised hisdiscretion. It was no use sending down novices to be massacred. Thisyear Drummond and Stanning were the only Wrykinians up to Aldershotform. Drummond would have been almost a certainty for a silver medal,and Stanning would probably have been a runner-up. And here they were,both injured; Wrykyn would not have a single representative at theQueen's Avenue Gymnasium. It would be a set-back to the cult of boxingat the school.
Mr Spence was pondering over this unfortunate state of things whenSheen was shown in.
"Can I speak to you for a minute, sir?" said Sheen.
"Certainly, Sheen. Take one of those cig--I mean, sit down. What isit?"Sheen had decided how to open the interview before knocking at thedoor. He came to the point at once.
"Do you think I could go down to Aldershot, sir?" he asked.
Mr Spence looked surprised.
"Go down? You mean--? Do you want to watch the competition? Really, Idon't know if the headmaster--""I mean, can I box?"Mr Spence's look of surprise became more marked.
"Box?" he said. "But surely--I didn't know you were a boxer, Sheen.""I've only taken it up lately.""But you didn't enter for the House Competitions, did you? What weightare you?""Just under ten stone.""A light-weight. Why, Linton boxed for your house in the Light-Weightssurely?""Yes sir. They wouldn't let me go in.""You hurt yourself?""No, sir.""Then why wouldn't they let you go in?""Drummond thought Linton was better. He didn't know I boxed.""But--this is very curious. I don't understand it at all. You see, ifyou were not up to House form, you would hardly--At Aldershot, you see,you would meet the best boxers of all the public schools.""Yes, sir."There was a pause.
"It was like this, sir," said Sheen nervously. "At the beginning of theterm there was a bit of a row down in the town, and I got mixed up init. And I didn't--I was afraid to join in. I funked it."Mr Spence nodded. He was deeply interested now. The office of confessoris always interesting.
"Go on, Sheen. What happened then?""I was cut by everybody. The fellows thought I had let the house down,and it got about, and the other houses scored off them, so I had rathera rotten time."Here it occurred to him that he was telling his story without thatattention to polite phraseology which a master expects from a boy, sohe amended the last sentence.
"I didn't have a very pleasant tim............