sly on the point of going for a bicycle ride.

"What are you doing out here. Jackson?"

"What are you, if it comes to that?"

Adair was adjusting his front light.

"I'm going for the doctor. One of the chaps in our house is bad."

"Oh!"

"What are you doing out here?"

"Just been for a stroll."

"Hadn't you better be getting back?"

"Plenty of time."

"I suppose you think you're doing something tremendously brave and
dashing?"

"Hadn't you better be going to the doctor?"

"If you want to know what I think--"

"I don't. So long."

Mike turned away, whistling between his teeth. After a moment's pause,
Adair rode off. Mike saw his light pass across the field and through the
gate. The school clock struck the quarter.

It seemed to Mike that Sergeant Collard, even if he had started to wait
for him at the house, would not keep up the vigil for more than half an
hour. He would be safe now in trying for home again.

He walked in that direction.

Now it happened that Mr. Downing, aroused from his first sleep by the
news, conveyed to him by Adair, that MacPhee, one of the junior members
of Adair's dormitory, was groaning and exhibiting other symptoms of
acute illness, was disturbed in his mind. Most housemasters feel uneasy
in the event of illness in their houses, and Mr. Downing was apt to get
jumpy beyond the ordinary on such occasions. All that was wrong with
MacPhee, as a matter of fact, was a very fair stomachache, the direct
and legitimate result of eating six buns, half a coconut, three
doughnuts, two ices, an apple, and a pound of cherries, and washing the
lot down with tea. But Mr. Downing saw in his attack the beginnings of
some deadly scourge which would sweep through and decimate the house. He
had dispatched Adair for the doctor, and, after spending a few minutes
prowling restlessly about his room, was now standing at his front gate,
waiting for Adair's return.

It came about, therefore, that Mike, sprinting lightly in the direction
of home and safety, had his already shaken nerves further maltreated by
being hailed, at a range of about two yards, with a cry of "Is that you,
Adair?" The next moment Mr. Downing emerged from his gate.

Mike stood not upon the order of his going. He was off like an arrow--a
flying figure of Guilt. Mr. Downing, after the first surprise, seemed to
grasp the situation. Ejaculating at intervals the words, "Who is that?
Stop! Who is that? Stop!" he dashed after the mu