William The Conqueror (5 page)

‘Yes,’ bleated Mr Falkner, ‘it’s extraordinary how anyone at all above the average makes himself felt through life. So often I find that people who’ve only met me
once remember me when I’ve quite forgotten them.’

Again Mr Brown had no doubt of it.

‘Now, this boy of yours,’ went on Mr Falkner, ‘quite a good fellow, no doubt – well meaning and all that. But –’ he tapped his hand upon the damning report
– ‘if anything below the average in intellect. I hope I don’t annoy you by saying that.’

Mr Brown hastened to assure him that he didn’t.

‘We can’t all be above the average, of course. But a boy like this wants a little friendly advice, that’s all. I’ve no doubt that I shall be able to help him a good deal
during the holidays. I always get on well with children. I could tell you most interesting stories about young friends of mind. A marked difference in them from the minute they know me.’

Again Mr Brown didn’t doubt it.

‘I’m sure that if I stayed here through the next term, you’d find a very different report at the end of it.’

Mr Brown thought that on the whole he’d prefer the same report and the absence of Mr Falkner, but with great exercise of self-control he remained silent.

‘Very different indeed,’ went on Mr Falkner. ‘I wish I’d got some of my old school reports to show you. Really remarkable. I remember my form master saying when I left
that the school would be a very different place without me.’

For the fourth time Mr Brown remarked that he’d no doubt of it.

During this interview William sat with his most inscrutable expression and stared at the guest unblinkingly.

The next day was the first day of the holidays. William wandered out into the garden after breakfast, and to his horror saw that the guest was accompanying him.

‘Now, my boy,’ squeaked Mr Falkner, ‘tell me how many names of flowers you know.’

William cleared his throat sternly and threateningly and went on as though he had neither seen nor heard Mr Falkner.

‘None?’ bleated his companion. ‘Come, come! Tut, tut! That’s sad for a boy of your age! Where are you going? Out into the road? Very well. I’m at your service. I
can join in all your little activities, you know. What do you like to do in the holidays? Stamp collecting, I’ve no doubt. Most instructive – and a little school work every day so as
not to forget all you learnt last term? And a nice quiet walk sometimes for exercise. That’s what you like, I’ve no doubt. That’s what I liked when I was a boy. What were we
talking about? Ah, flowers! Now, here in this hedge, you will see the Arum or Cuckoo Pint. Notice the large hood which is botanically termed a spathe. Notice also the spadix and the
stamens—’

At the end of the road stood Ginger, Douglas and Henry. Their faces dropped as they saw William’s companion.

‘Ha!’ he said. ‘These your friends, Willy? They’re going to join us for the morning? Very well, little boys. Come along with us quietly. And what are we all going to do
this morning, eh? I propose a nice little walk along the road, and you can all listen to what I’m telling Willy about the Arum or Cuckoo Pint. Notice, as I said the spathe and the spadix and
the stamens. Don’t drag your toes in the dust, little boy. Think of your kind father who pays for them. And don’t whisper to each other when I’m talking. It’s not polite; I
like my little friends to be polite. Now, would you like me to tell you about the habits of the busy little ant?’

The Outlaws were nonplussed. They had meant to go to the old barn where they generally played, but they felt they could not go with – this. It would spoil the old barn for them for ever.
And they couldn’t escape it.

Mr Falkner’s harsh, squeaky voice had a sort of hypnotising effect. It seemed to fill the whole world. It paralysed all their faculties. Once, in the middle of the discourse on the busy
little ant, they caught each other’s eyes; into their dejected faces came a gleam of hope, and they set off running. But their self-appointed ‘friend’ ran too. Despite his
stoutness, he could run.

‘A little run?’ he gasped. ‘Yes, certainly. Nothing like exercise – nothing like exercise. That will do now, I think, though.’

And so utterly were their spirits broken that they let that do. They slowed down.

‘A rest here, I think. Now I’ll give you a little practice in mental arithmetic. Let us see who can get the right answer.’

It was a nightmare of a morning for the Outlaws. They could not shake him off; they could not shut out the terrible sound of his voice. And there was his glassy eye. The ancient mariner was
nothing to him.

He gave them a little lecture on History and another on Geography and another on Astronomy. He spoke to them at great length on Patriotism and Manliness and Industry and the British Empire.

‘Well,’ he said brightly, when he led them back to the Browns’ house at lunch-time, ‘I’m afraid I can’t come out with you this afternoon, but tomorrow morning
Willy and I will be with you early.’

The Outlaws stared at each other blankly for a minute, then Douglas, Ginger and Henry turned on William.

‘Well,’ they said sternly, ‘you’ve given us a nice mornin’.’

‘Nothin’ to do with me,’ said William. ‘
I
din’ make him.
I
din’ want him. You’d think you’d be
sorry
for me. You’ve
only had him a mornin’. He’s
stayin
’ with us.’

‘How long’s he stayin’?’

‘We don’t know,’ said William gloomily.

‘Well, we’ll wait for you tomorrow mornin’, but if we see
him
comin’ with you, we’ll jus’ run off alone.’

‘You’re cowards,’ said William bitterly. ‘Jus’ cowards. That’s what you are.
Cowards!
’

They parted moodily. William walked slowly up the drive, oppressed by the thought of tomorrow morning spent in the sole company of Mr Falkner.

In the morning-room Mr Falkner was talking to Mr Brown.

‘No, I never grudge the time I spend with children. They always enjoy it so tremendously. You should have seen them hanging on to my words this morning. I expect they’ll remember it
all their lives. I shouldn’t wonder if it proved to be the turning point of their lives in a way. I opened up fresh fields of interest for them on all sides. I showed them how fascinating the
pursuit of knowledge can be. I
stimulated
them. There was a distinct difference in their expressions even at the end of the morning. More soulful somehow. I always have that effect on
children.’

The Outlaws spent the afternoon together – but it was not a happy one. The shadow of Mr Falkner lay heavy over it. In William’s mind was a nightmare vision of morning after morning
spent alone with Mr Falkner. In the minds of Ginger, Douglas and Henry was a nightmare vision of morning after morning spent without William’s inspiring leadership and company.

When William returned home, Mr Falkner was still talking to his father. He was talking about a mounted leopard skin which lay across the back of the sofa.

‘Where was it shot?’ he said.

‘In Africa. By my brother,’ said Mr Brown shortly.

‘Quite easy things to shoot, leopards,’ bleated Mr Falkner. ‘Ridiculously easy, in fact.’

‘You shot many?’ said Mr Brown.

‘Oh, yes – I’ve never actually counted how many. In Africa, you know – fact is, leopards
know
a good shot when they see him. Now, no leopard would dream of
attacking me. I simply raise my gun, the thing turns to flee and I get him on the run. Never failed. I don’t know what fear is. Simply don’t know the meaning of the word. Never have.
And they know it. Turn and run from me at once. Always. Invariably. Big game shooting is like knocking down skittles to me—’

It was late that evening when William came into the room, and said excitedly:

‘The leopard’s escaped from the circus at Offord. Ginger just heard down in the village. They’re out trying to find him and shoot him. He’s a wild leopard.’

Mr Brown turned to his guest.

‘An opportunity for you, Falkner,’ he said.

Mr Falkner turned rather pale.

‘Ha! Ha!’ he laughed nervously.

Mr Brown looked almost as if he were enjoying himself.

‘You simply look at him, you know,’ he said, ‘and shoot him as he turns to flee.’

‘Ha! Ha!’ laughed Mr Falkner again mirthlessly.

‘They
know
a good shot when they see one, you know,’ went on Mr Brown, warming to his subject. ‘No leopard would dream of attacking you, you know.’

‘B-but I haven’t got a gun,’ said Mr Falkner with a ghastly grin.

‘Oh, I’ve got one,’ said Mr Brown. ‘Loaded, too. I’ll get it for you.’

Mr Falkner’s jaw fell open loosely.

‘I wouldn’t dream of putting you to all that trouble,’ he spluttered. ‘Don’t trouble. Pray, don’t trouble.’

‘No trouble at all,’ said Mr Brown with beaming politeness as he went from the room.

Mr Falkner sat down and mopped his brow, smiling inanely. The hope that his host would not be able to find the gun shone like a beacon from his face. William sat in a corner of the room and
watched him.

WILLIAM CAME INTO THE ROOM AND SAID EXCITEDLY: ‘THE LEOPARD’S ESCAPED FROM THE CIRCUS AT OFFORD. HE’S A WILD LEOPARD.’

‘Here it is,’ he said, ‘quite ship-shape. Now, don’t let me detain you, my dear fellow. I’m sure a sportsman like you must be longing to join the fray.’

Mr Falkner took the gun gingerly. A pallid green had replaced the usual roseate hue of his round face.

‘B-but, suppose he comes here,’ he said with a sudden gleam of hope. ‘H-hadn’t I better stay and p-protect you?’

‘Not at all, not at all,’ said Mr Brown heartily. ‘We wouldn’t spoil your sport for anything. We’d much prefer to think of you out there shooting it as it turns to
flee from you. Why, you know, you’ve shot more than you can count.’

He pushed the reluctant sportsman to the front door.

‘Good-bye, old chap – good luck!’

Then he returned to the dining-room. The slow and cautious footsteps of the big game hunter could be heard treading gingerly on the gravel outside, stopping every now and then to listen.

William had mysteriously disappeared.

‘Well, I’m going to bed,’ said Mr Brown. ‘I’ve stood him every night for three months, and tonight I’m going to have a holiday. I don’t care whether the
leopard eats him or he eats the leopard. I’m going to bed.’

‘And what shall I do – read?’ said Mrs Brown.

‘Come to bed, too, if you’ve any sense. You can leave the front door unlocked. He’ll come back soon enough, you bet!’

Meanwhile the courageous hunter was creeping cautiously down the garden path. His idea was to creep round the garden several times, then return to the house with an account of his long and
fearless but unsuccessful search for the leopard. But there was a cold sweat of fear upon his brow. Suppose the creature happened to be in the garden. Could, oh, could he get back in time? He kept
one determined eye upon the front door as he prowled. He held the gun very cautiously. He hoped the beastly thing wouldn’t go off. Nasty dangerous things, guns.

As he crept cautiously about he was composing his account of his adventure. ‘I should think I traversed the whole village trying to come upon the creature without warning – before it
could have time to escape. It’s a most
bitter
disappointment to a sportsman like me to miss such an opportunity. The brute must have
felt
my coming and slunk off.’

Suddenly he was startled by a sound in the bushes behind him. The sound was between him and the house.

With a scream of terror he dashed away – down to the end of the little path.

At the end of the path was a summer-house and on to this the intrepid game hunter, who knew not the meaning of the word ‘fear’, clambered, panting and moaning and displaying in his
ascent singular determination and lack of grace. He clung on with his hands while his legs dangled in the air. He tried to hoist himself up.

His legs waved wildly in the air. The little sound in the bushes was repeated.

With a quivering little scream, the leopard hunter hurled himself on to the roof of the summer-house. He sat down and began to rub his bruises. He had barked his shins. He had aroused echoes in
his funny bones. He thought he had sprained both ankles, but he wasn’t quite sure.

He had certainly got the skin off his knees. He examined them tenderly. He was rather surprised to find that he still had the gun. He had thrown it up to the roof before he began his climbing
exploit. He gazed down through the darkness into the bushes.

‘Go away, you brute,’ he said sternly. ‘Shoo! Shoo! Shoo!’

It didn’t ‘Shoo!’ On the contrary, there came the sound of some stealthy creature creeping through the bushes. Twigs cracked. He could see the bushes move as the Thing
approached.

‘I told you to go away,’ he squeaked hysterically from his roof. ‘Go
away!
GO AWAY!’ He flung out his arms in a gesture of dismissal, ‘Sh!’

The Thing came on.

Perhaps it might be a cat or a dog, thought the hunter, and at the thought hope sprang afresh in his heart.