"That's true, Mr. Wykeham," interposed the inspector; "but Daft Jim would never have thought of taking up the floor-boards. He was merely amusing himself with the music, as he called it. The credit is really Mr. Forge's, sir."
"You have all acted splendidly," the Head said. "There is no need at all for splitting hairs. I am fairly well-to-do, Inspector, as you doubtless know, and the total loss of my invaluable collection would have blighted the hopes of a lifetime. Forge shall have his fifty pounds (silence, my boy--I insist!), you and your staff shall hear from me later, Inspector, and Jim's parents shall receive a sufficient recognition of his services to enable them to purchase warm clothing and substantial comforts for him.
"It is," he added, after a pause, "the very least I can do in grateful acknowledgment of my amazing good fortune. I am only sorry that I alone should have benefited, and that nobody else's property appears to have been recovered. That's particularly hard lines on you, Forge, who lost so much in cash. May I hope that you will now resume the publication of your bright little house magazine?"
Dick looked hard at the cheque in his hand. It seemed as though he were playing a part in a stage play--that he would awake to find it a dream.
"I should like to start the _Rag_ again, sir, but better luck will be needed next time."
The Head laughed joyously. "No more burglaries here, I trust! You'll see to that, won't you, Inspector? And Forge, remember this, if ever you get into difficulties again, be more confiding about them and come to me. I think I can promise you that the _Rooke's House Rag_ will never again cease publication for lack of funds."
Immediately after breakfast the Head called the boys together in the hall and gave them a graphic account of the recovery of his collection, praising the blushing captain sky-high. Then he gave the school a holiday, and topped it by declaring that "some very special dainties" would be provided for supper that night.
It was a red-letter day all round. Robin Hood and his Merry Men held high revelry in the Forest, and even called a truce with the Squirms so that there might be no shadow on the day's sunshine.
They were not tempted from grace, either, by the red-rag irritation of Peter Mawdster's presence. That sick and sorry youth took advantage of the holiday to slip down home, and, for some reason never publicly explained, he was seen at Foxenby no more. Possibly his doting parents decided to remove him to a less robust and more genteel atmosphere than that which Foxenby afforded. Anyhow, his disappearance had no more effect on the school than the swift death of a midge in a summer thunderstorm.