None Other Gods | Page 9

present day ..."
In fact, Mr. Mackintosh was, so soon as he had recovered from the first
shock, extraordinarily sensible and reasonable. He said all the proper
things, all the sensible and reasonable and common-sense things, and
he said them, not offensively or contemptuously, but tactfully and
persuasively. And he put into it the whole of his personality, such as it
was. He even quoted St. Paul.
He perspired a little, gently, towards the end: so he took off his glasses
and wiped them, looking, still with a smile, through kind, short-sighted
eyes, at this young man who sat so still. For Frank was so quiet that the
Dean thought him already half persuaded. Then once more he summed
up, when his glasses were fixed again; he ran through his arguments
lightly and efficiently, and ended by a quiet little assumption that Frank
was going to be reasonable, to write to his father once more, and to
wait at least a week. He even called him "my dear boy!"

"Thanks very much," said Frank.
"Then you'll think it over quietly, my dear boy. Come and talk to me
again. I've given you your exeat, but you needn't use it. Come in
to-morrow evening after hall."
Frank stood up.
"Thanks, very much, Mr. Mackintosh. I'll ... I'll certainly remember
what you've said." He took up his exeat as if mechanically.
"Then you can leave that for the present," smiled the Dean, pointing at
it. "I can write you another, you know."
Frank put it down quickly.
"Oh, certainly!" he said.
"Well, good-night, Mr. Guiseley.... I ... I can't tell you how glad I am
that you confided in me. Young men are a little unwise and impetuous
sometimes, you know. Good-night ... good-night. I shall expect you
to-morrow."
When Frank reached the court below he stood waiting a moment. Then
a large smile broke out on his face, and he hurried across to a passage
opposite, found a friend's door open, and rushed in. The room was
empty. He flew across to the window and crouched down, peeping over
the sill at the opening on the other side of the court leading to Mr.
Mackintosh's staircase.
He was rewarded almost instantly. Even as he settled himself on the
window seat a black figure, with gown ballooning behind, hurried out
and whisked through the archway leading towards the street. He gave
him twenty seconds, and then ran out himself, and went in pursuit.
Half-way up the lane he sighted him once more, and, following
cautiously on tiptoe, with a handkerchief up to his face, was in time to
behold Mr. Mackintosh disappear into the little telegraph office on the
left of Trinity Street.

"That settles it, then," observed Frank, almost aloud. "Poor Jack--I'm
afraid I shan't be able to breakfast with him after all!"
(IV)
It was a little after four o'clock on the following morning that a
policeman, pacing with slow, flat feet along the little lane that leads
from Trinity Hall to Trinity College, yawning as he went, and entirely
unconscious of the divine morning air, bright as wine and clear as water,
beheld a remarkable spectacle.
There first appeared, suddenly tossed on to the spikes that top the gate
that guards the hostel, a species of pad that hung over on both sides of
the formidable array of points. Upon this, more cautiously, was placed
by invisible hands a very old saddle without any stirrups.
The policeman stepped back a little, and flattened
himself--comparatively speaking--against the outer wall of the hostel
itself. There followed a silence.
Suddenly, without any warning, a heavy body, discernible a moment
later as a small carpet-bag, filled to bursting, fell abruptly on to the
pavement; and, again, a moment later, two capable-looking hands made
their appearance, grasping with extreme care the central rod on which
the spikes were supposed to revolve, on either side of the saddle.
Still the policeman did not make any sign; he only sidled a step or two
nearer and stood waiting.
When he looked up again, a young gentleman, in flannel trousers, gray
jacket, boots, and an old deerstalker, was seated astride of the saddle,
with his back to the observer. There was a pause while the rider looked
to this side and that; and then, with a sudden movement, he had
dropped clear of the wall, and come down on feet and hands to the
pavement.
"Good morning, officer!" said the young gentleman, rising and dusting
his hands, "it's all right. Like to see my exeat? Or perhaps half a

crown--"
(V)
About six o'clock in the morning, Jack Kirkby awoke suddenly in his
bedroom in Jesus Lane.
This was very unusual, and he wondered what it was all about. He
thought of Frank almost instantly, with a jerk, and after