Gully disdained to press his company on Cashel any further.
"Good-bye," he said, mournfully shaking his hand. "Success, old
chap."
"Success," echoed Cashel, grasping Gully's hand with a pang of
remorse for leaving him. "I'll write to you as soon as I have
anything to tell you. It may be some months, you know, before I get
regularly settled."
He gave Gully a final squeeze, released him, and darted off along
the road leading to Panley Village. Gully looked after him for a
moment, and then ran away Scotlandwards.
Panley Village consisted of a High Street, with an old-fashioned inn
at one end, a modern railway station and bridge at the other, and a
pump and pound midway between. Cashel stood for a while in the
shadow under the bridge before venturing along the broad, moonlit
street. Seeing no one, he stepped out at a brisk walking pace; for
he had by this time reflected that it was not possible to run all
the way to the Spanish main. There was, however, another person
stirring in the village besides Cashel. This was Mr. Wilson, Dr.
Moncrief's professor of mathematics, who was returning from a visit
to the theatre. Mr. Wilson had an impression that theatres were
wicked places, to be visited by respectable men only on rare
occasions and by stealth. The only plays he went openly to witness
were those of Shakespeare; and his favorite was "As You Like It";
Rosalind in tights having an attraction for him which he missed in
Lady Macbeth in petticoats. On this evening he had seen Rosalind
impersonated by a famous actress, who had come to a neighboring town
on a starring tour. After the performance he had returned to Panley,
supped there with a friend, and was now making his way back to
Moncrief House, of which he had been intrusted with the key. He was
in a frame of mind favorable for the capture of a runaway boy. An
habitual delight in being too clever for his pupils, fostered by
frequently overreaching them in mathematics, was just now stimulated
by the effect of a liberal supper and the roguish consciousness of
having been to the play. He saw and recognized Cashel as he
approached the village pound. Understanding the situation at once,
he hid behind the pump, waited until the unsuspecting truant was
passing within arm's-length, and then stepped out and seized him by
the collar of his jacket.
"Well, sir," he said. "What are you doing here at this hour? Eh?"
Cashel, scared and white, looked up at him, and could not answer a
word.