William George Bunter quaked. He had seen that Loder, the most detested prefect at Greyfriars, had had a sumptuous cake delivered from Chunkley's store. Hence his presence in Loder's study and hence his devouring the cake. He had also heard Loder remark to his fellow prefect, Walker, that he was going to the cricket nets to practice for the 1st eleven match on Saturday.
As, therefore, Loder would be safely off the scene for an hour or more, it seemed the ideal time to sample his cake. Unfortunately for Bunter, he was only halfway through the cake when he heard footsteps on the staircase and Loder's disgruntled voice advancing nearer.
The idea of being caught in the 6th form prefect's study scoffing his cake – and the worst tempered prefect at that – was too terrifying even to contemplate. Bunter, not usually quick of thought, on this occasion acted quickly. He dived behind the screen in the study, still clutching what was left of the cake and trusting Loder would not notice the sea of crumbs on the carpet.
The next instance the door flew open with a crash. Loder was evidently in a temper!
'Damn the man,' he remarked to his invisible companion; invisible to Bunter at any rate.
'I take it you mean Wingate,' the companion replied; it was evidently Walker.
'Of course I mean Wingate, blast you!' snarled Loder.
From what he could overhear, Bunter deduced that Wingate, the school Captain, had dropped Loder from the 1st eleven as the latter wasn't up to scratch. This, of course, meant that Loder would not be playing in Saturday's match and consequently Loder was bent on revenge.
Now, supposing Wingate were to retrieve a telegram on Saturday, telling him his father was ill and he was wanted at home. As first reserve, I'd have to step up to the mark and take his place, wouldn't I?'
'What do you imagine the chances are of that?' said Walker incredulously.
'Pretty good, as the fellow who's been left out of the side through jealousy is going to send it,' replied Loder triumphantly.
'You're mad,' yelled Walker. 'You could go to chokey for sending a telegram in someone else's name.'
'My dear fellow, who's going to know? Only us two and I assume you're not going to give me away.'
Little did Loder know that a fat pair of ears had heard every word!
Five minutes later Bunter tapped nervously at Wingate's study and was admitted into the school Captain's august chamber.
The senior eyed him curiously.
'Trot in, kid. What have I done to deserve this visit?' It was not often juniors willingly came to the prefects' studies.
'Well, Willingate – the – the – fact is . . .'' Bunter hesitated.
'Cough it up, kid,' urged Wingate. He could see the fat owl had something to get off his chest and it was clear he was having some difficulty in actually retrieving it.
'Well, the fact is, I happened to be in Loder's study when I overheard him plotting against you.' Bunter got it out at last.
'Just a minute,' interrupted Wingate, 'What do you mean, 'you just happened to be in Loder's study'? What were you doing there anyway?'
'I – I wasn't scoffing Loder's cake. If – if Loder's missing a cake, I daresay it was the housekeeper's cat.'
This was not the best way for Bunter to convince Wingate of his bone fides, as it were.
'You fat villain! You dared to enter a prefect's study in his absence to eat his cake, then you make up this wild story to get yourself off the hook.' Wingate was furious.
'No, no. It really happened just as I said. Loder plans to . . .'
'Enough!' shouted Wingate. 'Now get out you fat sweep, before I give you six of the best. I'll delay your punishment till I get Loder's complaint about the missing cake. Meanwhile I don't want to hear any more gossip or tittle tattle over something you fancy you may have overheard while scoffing a senior's tuck!'
It is said of old that fools rush in where angels fear to tread, hence Bunter's next utterance.
'Really, Wingate, I wasn't anywhere near Loder's study when the delivery man brought the cake there. Anyway, it wasn't much of a cake, scarcely any plums in it. But that's beside the point; I just popped into Loder's study to – to – ask him about – about deponent verbs in Latin, but I could hear he was in a frightful bate, so I hid. Then I heard him mention your name and say he was going to . . .'
Wingate reached for his cane, but before he could put it into use, Bunter departed rather hastily.
On Saturday, Wingate, having received the fatal telegram, dashed into his study to pack a few things prior to catching a train for London. He was slightly surprised to see his friend Carne occupying it and clutching a rather grubby finger-marked envelope.
'Just a minute, old chap,' said Carne, 'I know you're in a hurry, but the contents of this envelope can't wait.'
'Sorry, Carne,' said Wingate, 'but they can't be any more urgent than the telegram I've just received.'
'Yes, it's the telegram that this letter is all about.'
'What do you mean; I've only just got the telegram. Who is the letter from?'
'It's from young Bunter of the Remove.'
'Bunter!' exclaimed Wingate amazedly.
'Yes, seems he overheard some plot about Loder sending a telegram or getting someone else to send one, telling you your pater was ill. The point is, he gave me the letter on Wednesday, so how could he know you'd get the message on Saturday?'
'Well I'm blowed, he tried to tell me on Wednesday, but I wouldn't listen. I thought he was making up something about Loder, none of those Remove kids like Loder.'
'Well, look at the postmark of the telegram,' urged Carne.
'My hat, it's been sent locally from Courtfield,' gasped Wingate.
A phone call home elicited the information that no-one was ill in the Wingate household, nor was any telegram sent from there. When Loder was challenged by Wingate, he naturally denied any involvement, but it was noticeable hopw his face paled when Wingate spoke of making investigations at the Courtfield Post Office.
Wingate knew that Bunter's accusations were correct. Although Loder could have been 'sacked' for what he had done, Wingate decided to instead challenge him to a fist fight behind the Cloisters, where he beat seven bells out of him.
As for Bunter, who had for once obeyed his con science and even used his normally under-active brain to effect a means of warning Wingate, he was invited to a slap-up meal by the school Captain as a reward for his services to him.
After the owl of the Remove had travelled through innumerable pork pies, sandwiches, éclairs, doughnuts etc., Wingate decided the time was right for the piece de resistance.
'Enjoying yourself, kid?' he asked good naturedly.
'I'll say, Wingate, this is prime,' came the reply, somewhat inaudibly from a mouthy still half full of food. 'Of course, I'm not like some fellows, only thinking of grub.'
'No, no, quite, quite,' said Wingate politely. It was truly astonishing to see how much the fat junior could put away, seemingly with no ill effects. Wingate wondered dazedly whether Bunter ate as much as the rest of the Remove put together.
'Listen, Bunter, I've saved the best for last. I've got Mrs Mimble to bake one of her special cakes and I'd like you to sample some of it. I'm sure you've still got room.'
Certainly the fat owl showed no sign of slowing down as far as the comestibles went. Somewhat to Wingate's surprise, however, the junior seemed reluctant.
'I'm sorry, Wingate, I'd like to, but the fact is I've got to see Quelch. I really must be going.'
'But surely you've got room for just one small slice?' pleaded Wingate. After all, he had bought the cake purely for Bunter.
'No, sorry,' said Bunter, standing up, 'but I mustn't be late for the Head – I – I mean Quelch.'
'Nonsense, a few minutes won't matter. Tell Quelch – or the Head – that I kept you.' Bunter's behaviour was inexplicable. 'I'll just get the cake out of the cupboard and . . .'
Wingate gazed in wonder at the empty cupboard at the same time as he heard the study door slam as Bunter departed.
'The fat villain !' he exclaimed, then chuckled to himself. Same old Bunter after all!