rcise. When he moved now it was at a
stately walk. The fact that he ran tonight showed how the excitement of
the chase had entered into his blood.

"Oo-oo-oo yer!" he shouted again, as Mike, passing through the gate,
turned into the road that led to the school. Mike's attentive ear noted
that the bright speech was a shade more puffily delivered this time. He
began to feel that this was not such bad fun after all. He would have
liked to be in bed, but, if that was out of the question, this was
certainly the next-best thing.

He ran on, taking things easily, with the sergeant panting in his wake,
till he reached the entrance to the school grounds. He dashed in and
took cover behind a tree.

Presently the sergeant turned the corner, going badly and evidently
cured of a good deal of the fever of the chase. Mike heard him toil on
for a few yards and then stop. A sound of panting was borne to him.

Then the sound of footsteps returning, this time at a walk. They passed
the gate and went on down the road.

The pursuer had given the thing up.

Mike waited for several minutes behind his tree. His program now was
simple. He would give Sergeant Collard about half an hour, in case the
latter took it into his head to "guard home" by waiting at the gate.
Then he would trot softly back, shoot up the water pipe once more, and
so to bed. It had just struck a quarter to something--twelve, he
supposed--on the school clock. He would wait till a quarter past.

Meanwhile, there was nothing to be gained from lurking behind a tree. He
left his cover, and started to stroll in the direction of the pavilion.
Having arrived there, he sat on the steps, looking out onto the
cricket field.

His thoughts were miles away, at Wrykyn, when he was recalled to
Sedleigh by the sound of somebody running. Focusing his gaze, he saw a
dim figure moving rapidly across the cricket field straight for him.

His first impression, that he had been seen and followed, disappeared as
the runner, instead of making for the pavilion, turned aside, and
stopped at the door of the bicycle shed. Like Mike, he was evidently
possessed of a key, for Mike heard it grate in the lock. At this point
he left the pavilion and hailed his fellow rambler by night in a
cautious undertone.

The other appeared startled.

"Who the dickens is that?" he asked. "Is that you, Jackson?"

Mike recognized Adair's voice. The last person he would have expected to
meet at midnight obviou