The Paper Chase Read Online Free Page A

enough, the mixture was quite palatable; or perhaps the Marsh winds had made Applegate hungry. Boys, girls and staff ate together in a large hall in the Victorian Gothic addition. Pont sat beaming at the head of the table, and Hedda at the bottom. The meal was eaten with fair decorum, but just as it finished Applegate saw the boy next to him give a vicious pinch to a girl who sat on his other side. The girl yelped and then punched the boy in the stomach. Crockery clattered on the table, a glass of water went over. The girl was Maureen Gardner, the boy was the gangling Derek.
    Applegate waited expectantly. Pont said mildly: “What was the reason for that?”
    “He pinched me.”
    “She stole my knife.”
    “It’s the kind of knife he’s not supposed to have. Look.” Maureen fumbled below her skirt and produced a short-handled knife with a long slender blade. “I found it in his locker.”
    “Take the knife, Charles, will you?” Applegate took it rather gingerly, and put it in his pocket. The point was extremely sharp.
    “He’s not supposed to have a sharp knife. He’s violent,” Maureen Gardner said, more to Applegate than to the others, who obviously did not regard this as news. Derek merely glared at her.
    “He was not supposed to have it, nor you to take it,” said Pont imperturbably. “You did the right thing for the wrong reasons. Let’s say no more about it.”
    “Can I have my knife back?” Derek held out a large, grimy hand to Applegate.
    “No.”
    “Why not? It belongs to me.”
    “It’s a dangerous weapon.” Applegate felt slightly absurd.
    The grimy hand was bunched into a fist. “Supposing I took it? I can fight, you know, and no Queensberry rules either.”
    “I’ve been known to ignore them myself. But supposing you were able to take the knife away from me, what then? Everybody would know you’d taken it, and you’d just have to give it back again. Stupid.”
    The boy made no reply to this argument. He stood up, picked up his plate and dropped it on the floor, where it broke into four pieces.
    “You look intelligent,” Applegate said. “What made you do something so foolish? You’ll simply have to pay for the plate.”
    “Liberty Hall,” the boy snarled as he walked away from the table. Applegate felt a ridiculous sense of triumph, which was slightly marred when he saw the smugness with which Maureen Gardner was eating her treacle sponge.
    The sense of triumph revived, however, when he presented himself at half past eight and was congratulated by Pont. “An awkward little episode, although of the kind we must expect. I thought you handled it perfectly. Derek Winterbottom is a difficult case. He came here a year ago with a record of sadistic activity applied to animals and other children. He burnt another boy’s hand with a poker. It was hushed up – his father is an important Civil Servant. Had it reached the courts he might have gone to an approved school. They sent him to Bramley instead, and we are doing what we can for him, but I fear it may be too late. His character was set when he arrived, and I am afraid I may have to ask his parents to take him away.”
    Pont looked genuinely distressed. They were talking in the square drawing-room of what appeared to be the Ponts’ separate suite upstairs. It contained an old sofa and three or four armchairs covered with various materials, apparently indiscriminately chosen. There were a few books and an electric fire. The room was shabby without being comfortable. There was no sign of Mrs Pont, or of coffee.
    There was a perfunctory knock, and then suddenly two doors opened at the same time, at opposite ends of the room. Through one of them came Montague, red-faced and perky. Through the other there entered slowly a large shapeless woman with beautifully waved silver hair, who walked with a stick.
    Pont sprang up from his chair. “Janine, my dear, how are you feeling?”
    “I have had a headache, but it is better now.” With