for timely interference, might
have entailed serious--if not fatal--consequences.

Yet the above misgiving grew by dwelling upon, and there were times when
Haviland would feel exceedingly uncomfortable and almost make up his
mind to give up these perilous expeditions. Were they worth the risk?
The end of the term was drawing near, and his irksome restraint would,
of course, end with it; whereas, were he detected, the result would be
inevitable expulsion. Mr Sefton's words would strike uncomfortably
home to his mind, and, after all, embittered and reckless as he might
feel, he had no desire to be expelled. His accomplice would get off
with a sound swishing, for which, of course, he himself was too old. He
would certainly be expelled.

But such prudential moods were not destined to last. His close
confinement galled him more and more, and, besides, there was one
expedition the pair had promised themselves, and that was to extend
their midnight marauding to Hangman's Wood. That would be a famous
exploit. They would shoot two or three pheasants there--the place just
grew pheasants--and at night they would be entirely safe, because no one
dared go into it on account of the ghost. Yes, it would be the crowning
exploit of all, and the sooner they undertook it the better, while there
was some moonlight left.

They might have been less easy in their minds, however, could they have
assisted unseen in a discussion then going on in the Doctor's study
between that potentate and Laughton, with a couple of the senior
prefects.

"It is really becoming a serious matter," the Headmaster was saying,
"and I am considering what action I shall take. Again I have had
complaints. Both Mr Worthington's and Lord Hebron's keepers have been
to me again. There is no doubt as to the truth of their stories, I am
afraid. Their woods are overrun and pheasants taken--they gave me ample
proof of that. They have even found a place where the birds have been
cooked and eaten, and a good many of them too."

"Surely, sir, that's no evidence whatever that it has been done by any
of the school," said Laughton, as the Doctor paused, as though inviting
opinion.

"I think it is, Laughton. The ordinary poacher, you see, would remove
his game, not cook and eat it in a dry ditch. Furthermore, the
footmarks observed by the keepers were made by cricket shoes, and not
large enough nor broad enough to be imprinted by the village
ne'er-do-well."