May 2013
What a waste, thought William Gerge Bunter as he gazed at the foodstuffs being unloaded from Chunkley's Stores' van. He knew that none of it would be consumed by himself or indeed any of the rest of the Remove form, not that the others mattered, of course. They were destined for the Greyfriars masters at their monthly staff meeting. If only a fellow could somehow divert all those edibles from the intended destination, as it were.
Sometime later the masters were assembled in the staff room, listening to Mr Quelch, the Remove headmaster, delivering the opening minutes of the monthly meeting. He had hardly got through the first paragraph when he was interrupted by a loud, insistent buzzing noise.
'My dear Mr Quelch,' said Paul Pontiflex Prout, the portly and pompous fifth form master, 'It appears the fire alarm is ringing.'
Trust Prout to state the obvious!
'I am aware of that fact, Mr Prout,' responded Quelch acidly. 'Indeed, one would have to be as deaf as Bunter's study mate, Tom Dutton, not to have heard it.' Deafness was not, however, such a great affliction to anyone unfortunate enough to share a study with Billy Bunter.
'Very well, gentlemen, it seems we have no choice but to assemble in the quadrangle and ensure that a responsible prefect calls the roll call for each of our respective forms.'
Much later, after the Friardale fire brigade had been called out and it was ascertained that no fire or even the hint of a fire had occurred, the pupils went to their classes, diner time being long over by this time.
Naturally the masters returned to their interrupted meeting. When all topics were fully exhausted and even Mr Prout ceased to wag his chin, the staff were more than ready for their lunch and Mr Quelch therefore rang for Trotter, the house-page, to come and serve the buffet lunch of sandwiches, savouries and a vast array of cakes and fruit.
When Trotter arrived, Quelch genially asked him to serve the food.
'Please, sir, where is all the food?' asked Trotter.
'Where it always is,' snapped Quelch. 'In the large cupboard adjoining the wall you're standing next to. From where you have served it every month since you were first appointed house-page.'
'But, Mr Quelch, I've looked in every part of it and I can't find no trace of it,' wailed the hapless Trotter.
'What!' yelled Quelch. Was the boy stupid or playing some insolent joke?
The Remove master and all the other famished masters then began a frantic search for the vanished feast. Trotter was not in fact strictly correct when he said there was no trace of the food; there were several crumbs to indicate that the food had indeed been deposited in the staff room cupboard. Someone had evidently abstracted it when the whole school had evacuated during the fire alarm. Was it a seized opportunity or was the whole thing planned? In any event, sadly, when foodstuffs went missing, there was only really one prime suspect.
'Trotter,' barked Mr Quelch, 'Tell Master Bunter of my form to come to my study immediately.'
A few minutes later, there was a nervous tap at the Remove master's door and a fat figure was bidden to enter.
'Bunter,' Quelch began grimly, 'the fire alarm was sounded during lunch time. As it turned out it was a false alarm.'
'Oh, was it sir? I was out when it rang . . . I – I mean when I imagine it rang.'
'Yes, I know, several boys were out of gates at the time of the, er – incident, so the role call that was taken at the time isn't of much use in ascertaining the perpetrator.'
'Oh, really, that's a shame, sir,' said Bunter sympathetically.
'However, that is not the full extent of the culprit's crimes,' continued Quelch grimly.
'It appears that while the school were assembled outside, someone surreptitiously made their way back into the school and purloined all the comestibles for the staff meeting from the master's common room.'
'D-d-d-did they sir?' Bunter stammered.
'Yes, Bunter. One might even assume that someone purposefully pressed the fire alarm for the purpose of purloining the comestibles. One might indeed!' Quelch paused before commencing his attack on the hapless fat owl of the Remove.
'Bunter, where did you go this lunch time?' enquired Quelch.
So that was it! Why did everyone suspect Bunter whenever grub went missing?
'I went to see my sister Bessie at Cliff House,' responded Bunter. 'You gave me permission, sir.'
'So a telephone call to Cliff House school would ascertain that you were with your sister, when the incident took place?'
'W-well, when I got to Cliff House, I found that Bessie had gone out, she must have forgotten I was coming.'
'I see. I presume you ascertained her departure by asking one of her classmates.'
'No sir, I saw her walking out of the gates from a distance.'
Quelch decided this line of enquiry was leading nowhere. The fat owl was too astute for him on this point.
'Very well, Bunter. What did you do then?'
'I just came straight back to Greyfriars.'
'Really? At what time did you depart for Cliff House, Bunter?'
'Oh, about 12.30, I think, sir.'
'Indeed! Yet the other partner, Gostling, tells me that you didn't return until just before calling over, 5.45 in fact. It cannot possibly have taken you over five hours to walk to Cliff House and back, a distance of no more than a mile and a half.'
'Gostling must be mistaken, sir. If you ask me he is getting a bit past it.'
'Coker of the 5th returned at the same time as you. Shall we ask him at what time this was?'
No answer from Bunter.
'I ask you again, why did it take you over five hours to do a round trip of three miles?'
'Well it took such a long time to scoff – er – I mean – '
'Well, Bunter,' said Quelch, sensing triumph, 'I am waiting for an explanation.'
'The fact is – the – the fact is,' Bunter thought desperately for a reason, any reason, 'I twisted my ankle walking back, sir and had to limp back, resting every few yards.'
'I saw no evidence of any limp when you entered my study.'
'Oh, well, the pain comes and goes.'
'then you had batter let Matron take a look at it Bunter.
'Oh no, there's no need to trouble Matron. It seems right as rain now. May I go now, sir?'
'You may not go, Bunter,' said Quelch grimly. 'It is obvious to me that every word you utter is a prevarication or a falsehood.
'Oh really, sir.'
'You caused disruption to the whole school, you deprived the entire staff of their lunch! You will firstly return the remainder of the comestibles.'
'But there's none left sir, – I – I mean not that I scoffed the grub. I didn't even know that the cupboard was left unlocked – I mean –'
'Bunter, your own words condemn you. You will accompany me to the Headmaster's study, as I cannot trust you to go there by yourself.'
Quelch knew his bunter, there followed a very painful interview with the head, during which sounds of woe were heard to echo along the length of the master's corridor. Not only that, he had to write out a Georgie, 5,000 lines in Latin, a monumental task to keep him busy for every half-holiday until the end of term.
Once again, Bunter found that the way of the transgressor was hard.