A Patriotic Schoolgirl Read online

  CHAPTER XXII

  The Magic Lantern

  When Marjorie took an idea into her head it generally for the timefilled the whole of her mental horizon. She had never liked Miss Norton,and she now mistrusted her. The evidence that she had to go upon wascertainly very slight, but, as Marjorie argued, "Straws show how thewind blows", and anyone capable of sympathizing with Germans might alsobe capable of assisting them. She felt somewhat in the position ofHamlet, doubting whether she had really surprised a dark secret or not,and anxious for more circumstantial evidence before she told others ofher suspicions. She strictly charged Dona not to mention meeting MissNorton in the little hamlet of Sandside, which Dona readily promised.She was not imaginative, and was at present far more interested in rowsof cauliflowers or specimens of seaweeds than in problematical Germanspies.

  Marjorie, with several detective stories fresh in her memory, determinedto go to work craftily. She set little traps for Miss Norton. She wouldcasually ask her questions about Germany, or about prisoners of war, tojudge by her answers where her sympathies lay. The mistress, however,was evidently on her guard, and replied in terms of caution. One thingMarjorie learned which she considered might be a suspiciouscircumstance. Miss Norton received many letters from abroad. She hadgiven foreign stamps to Rose Butler, who had seen her tear them offenvelopes marked "Opened by the censor". The stamps were from Egypt,Malta, Switzerland, Spain, Holland, and Buenos Ayres, a strange varietyof places in which to have correspondents, so thought Marjorie.

  "Of course they're opened by the censor, but who knows if there isn't asecret cipher under the guise of an ordinary letter? They may have allkinds of treasonable secrets in them. Norty might get information andsend it to those friends in foreign countries, and they would telegraphit in code through a neutral country to Berlin."

  She ascertained through one of the prefects that Miss Norton intended tospend her holidays in the Isle of Wight. This again seemedextraordinary, for the teacher notoriously suffered greatly from theheat in summer, and yearned for a bracing climate such as that ofScotland; further, she was nervous about air raids, so that the southcoast would surely be a very unsuitable spot to select for one whowished to take a restful vacation. Patricia, whose parents had been on avisit to Whitecliffe, and had taken her out on a Saturday afternoon,reported that at the hotel some foreigners--presumably Belgians--werestaying, and that she had noticed Miss Norton drinking coffee with themin the lounge.

  "Are you sure they were Belgians?" asked Marjorie with assumedcarelessness.

  "Why, the people in the hotel said so."

  "What were they like?"

  "Oh, fair and rather fat! One of them was a Madame Moeller. She playedthe piano beautifully; everybody came flocking into the lounge to listento her."

  "Moeller doesn't sound like a French name."

  "Well, I said they were Belgians."

  "It has rather a German smack about it. What language were they speakingto each other?"

  "Something I couldn't understand. Not French, certainly."

  "Was it German?"

  "I don't know any German, so I can't tell. It might have been Flemish."

  Marjorie several times felt tempted to confide her suspicions toWinifrede, but her courage never rose to the required point. She had aninstinct that the head girl would pooh-pooh the whole matter, and eithercall her a ridiculous child, or be rather angry with her for harbouringsuch ideas about her house mistress. Winifrede liked to lead, and wasnever very ready to adopt other people's opinions; it was improbablethat she would listen readily to the views of an Intermediate, even ofone whom she was patronizing. A head girl is somewhat in the position ofthe lion in AEsop's fables: it is unwise to offend her. KnowingWinifrede's disposition, Marjorie dared not risk a breach of the verydesirable intimacy which at present existed between them. She yearned,however, for a confidante. The burden of her suspicions was heavy tobear alone, and she felt that sometimes two heads were better than one.Except on exeat days she saw little of Dona, and discussing matters withthat rather stolid little person was not a very exhilaratingperformance. In her dilemma she turned to Chrissie. The two had sharedthe secret of the Observatory window, and Chrissie, one of the mostenthusiastic members of their patriotic society, would surely understandand sympathize where Winifrede might laugh or scold. Marjorie felt thatshe had lately rather neglected her chum. Their squabbles had causedfrequent coolnesses, and each had been going her own way. She now madean opportunity to walk with Chrissie down the dingle, and confided toher the whole story of her doubts. Her chum listened very attentively.

  "It looks queer!" she commented. "Yes, more than queer! I always setMiss Norton down as a pro-German. Those foreign letters ought to beinvestigated. I wish I could get hold of some of them. It's our duty tolook after this, Marjorie. You're patriotic? Well, so am I. We may beable to render a great service to our country if we can track down aspy. We'll set all our energies to work."

  "What are we going to do?" asked Marjorie, much impressed.

  "Leave it to me, and I'll think out a plan of campaign. These thingsare a battle of brains. She's clever, and we've got to outwit her. Whowere those foreigners she was talking to in the hotel, I should like toknow?"

  "That was just what I thought."

  "For a beginning we must try to draw her out. Oh, don't ask herquestions about her German sympathies, that's too clumsy! She'd seethrough that in a moment. Let's work the conversation round to militarymatters and munitions, and get the girls to tell all they've heard ofnews from the front, and watch whether Norty isn't just snapping it up."

  "Wouldn't that be letting her get to know too much?"

  "Well, one's obliged to risk something. If you're over-cautious younever get anything done."

  "Yes, I suppose you're right. We'll try on Sunday evening after supper.She always comes into the sitting-room for a chat with us then."

  Chrissie seemed to have taken up the matter with the greatest keenness.She was evidently in dead earnest about it. Marjorie was agreeablysurprised, and on the strength of this mutual confidence her oldaffection for her chum revived. Once more they went about the school armin arm, sat next to each other at tea, and wrote each other privatelittle notes. St. Elgiva's smiled again, but the girls by this time wereaccustomed to Marjorie's very impulsive and rather erratic ways, and didnot take her infatuations too seriously.

  "Quarrelled with Winifrede?" enquired Patricia humorously. "I thoughtyou were worshipping at her shrine at present."

  "Marjorie is a pagan," laughed Rose Butler. "She bows down to manyidols."

  "I should call Winifrede a more desirable goddess than Chrissie," addedIrene.

  "Go on, tease me as much as you like!" declared Marjorie. "You're onlyjealous."

  "Jealous! Jealous of Chrissie Lang! Great Minerva!" ejaculated Ireneeloquently.

  It was about two days after this that Marjorie, passing down thecorridor from Dormitory No. 9, came suddenly upon Chrissie issuing outof Miss Norton's bedroom. Marjorie stopped in supreme amazement.Mistresses' rooms were sacred at Brackenfield, unless by specialinvitation. Miss Norton was not disposed to intimacy, and it was not inthe knowledge of St. Elgiva's that she had admitted any girl into herprivate sanctum.

  "Did Norty send for you there?" questioned Marjorie in a whisper.

  "Sh, sh!" replied Chrissie. "Come back with me into the dormitory."

  She drew her friend inside her cubicle, looked round the room to seethat they were alone, then patted her pocket and smiled.

  "I've got them!" she triumphed.

  "Got what?"

  "Norty's foreign letters, or some of them at any rate."

  "Chris! You never went into her room and took them?"

  "That's exactly what I did, old sport! I'm going to look them over, andput them back before she finds out."

  Marjorie gasped.

  "But look here! It doesn't seem quite--straight, somehow."

  "Can't be helped in the circumstances," replied Chrissie laconi
cally."We've got to outwit her somehow. It's a case of 'Greek meets Greek'.How else are we to find out anything?"

  "I don't know."

  The idea of entering a teacher's bedroom and taking and reading herprivate correspondence was intensely repugnant to Marjorie. Her facebetrayed her feeling.

  "You'd never do on secret service," said Chrissie, shaking her head. "Ithought you were patriotic enough to dare anything for the sake of yourcountry. Go downstairs if you don't want to see these letters. I'll readthem by myself."

  "I wish you'd put them back at once," urged Marjorie.

  "Not till I know what's in them. Here comes Betty! I'm going to scoot.Ta-ta!"

  Marjorie followed Chrissie downstairs, but did not join her in thegarden. She was not happy about this latest development of affairs. Itwas one thing to watch Miss Norton by legitimate methods, and quiteanother to try underhand ways. She wondered whether the service of hercountry really demanded such a sacrifice of honour. For a moment shefelt desperately tempted to run to Winifrede's study, explain the wholesituation, and ask her opinion, but she remembered that Winifrede wouldbe writing her weekly essay and would hardly welcome a visitor, or havetime to listen to the rather lengthy story which she must pour out.After all, it was an affair that her own conscience must decide. Shepurposely avoided Chrissie all the evening, while she thought it over.Having slept upon the question, she came to a decision.

  "Chris," she said, catching her chum privately after breakfast, "I votewe don't do any more sneaking tricks."

  "Sneaking?" Chrissie's eyebrows went up high.

  "Yes, you know what I mean. We'll keep a look-out on Norty, but no moretaking of letters, please."

  Chrissie gazed at her chum with rather an inscrutable expression.

  "Right oh! Just as you like. We'll shelve that part of the informationbureau and work on other lines. I'm quite agreeable."

  That particular day happened to be Miss Broadway's birthday. She livedat St. Elgiva's, so the girls determined to give a little jollificationthat evening in her honour. There would not be time for much in the wayof festivities, but there was a free half-hour after supper, when theycould have the recreation room to themselves. It was to be a privateaffair for their own hostel, and only the mistresses who resided therewere invited. The entertainment was to consist of a magic lantern show.Photography had raged lately as a hobby among the Intermediates, andseveral of them had taken to making lantern slides. Patricia--anindulged only daughter--had persuaded her father to buy her a lantern;it had just arrived, and she was extremely anxious to test itscapabilities. She put up her screen and made her preparations during theafternoon, so that when supper was over all was in readiness, and heraudience took their places without delay.

  Miss Norton, Miss Parker, and Miss Broadway had specially reservedchairs in the front row, and the girls filled up the rest of the room.Some of them, to obtain a better view, squatted on the floor in front ofthe chairs, Chrissie and Marjorie being among the number. The lanternworked beautifully; Patricia made a capital little operator, and managedto focus very clearly. She first of all showed sets of bought slides,scenes from Italy and Switzerland and photos of various regiments, andwhen these were finished she turned to the slides which she and herchums had made themselves. There were capital pictures of the school,the cricket eleven, the hockey team, the quadrangle in the snow, thegardening assistants, and the tennis champions. They were received withmuch applause, Miss Norton in particular congratulating the amateurphotographers on their successful efforts.

  "We haven't had time to do very many," said Patricia, "but I've got justa few more here. This is a good clear one, and interesting too."

  The picture which she now threw on the screen showed the road leading toWhitecliffe, up which a contingent of German prisoners appeared,guarded by soldiers. In the foreground was a long perambulator holding alittle boy propped up with pillows. It was an excellent photograph, forthe contingent had been caught just at the right moment as it faced thecamera; both prisoners and guards had come out with remarkableclearness. Something impelled Marjorie to glance at Miss Norton. Thehouse mistress was gazing at the picture with an expression of amazedhorror in her eyes. She turned quickly to Irene, who was squatting ather feet, and asked: "Who took that photo?"

  "Marjorie Anderson took it, but I made the lantern slide from her film,"answered Irene proudly. "We think it's quite one of the best."

  "I suppose it was just a snapshot as she stood by the roadside?"

  "Yes; it was a very lucky one, wasn't it?"

  Marjorie, sitting close by, nudged Chrissie, but did not speak. MissNorton made no further remark, and Patricia put on the next slide.Afterwards, in the corridor, Marjorie whispered excitedly to Chrissie:

  "Did you notice Norty's face? She was quite upset by my photo of theGerman prisoners."

  "Yes, I noticed her."

  "Significant, wasn't it?"

  "Rather!"

  "It's like the play scene in _Hamlet_. It seems to me she gave herselfaway."

  "She was taken unawares."

  "Just as the King and Queen were. You remember how Hamlet watched themall the time? What's happened to-night only confirms our suspicions."

  "It does indeed!"

  "Perhaps some of her German friends were among the prisoners and sherecognized them."

  "It's possible."

  "Well, it evidently gave her a great shock, and that would account forit."

  "The plot thickens!"

  "It thickens very much indeed. I'm not sure if we oughtn't to tellsomebody."

  "No, no! Not on any account!"

  "You think so?"

  "I'm certain of it. You'll spoil everything if you go blabbing!"

  "Well, I won't, if you'd rather not; but I'm just longing to askWinifrede what she thinks about it all," said Marjorie regretfully.