uick, or the Philistines'll have us!"

Acton ran to fetch the key, and the next moment the three members of the
Triple Alliance dashed through the open door, which was hastily secured
behind them, while a shout of baffled rage some little distance down the
road showed that they had only narrowly escaped falling into the hands
of the enemy. The pursuit, however, was evidently abandoned, and
Morris, climbing on the roof of the shed, saw young Noaks and Hogson
slowly retreating round the corner of the road.

The three friends certainly presented a striking appearance. Mugford's
nose was bleeding, Jack Vance's collar seemed to have been nearly torn
off his neck, while Diggory's cap was in his hand, and his hair in a
state of wild disorder. Their faces, flushed with running, were radiant
with a look of triumph, while all three, the unfortunate Mugford
included, leaned up against the wall, and laughed until the tears ran
down their cheeks.

"What have you fellows been up to?" cried Acton; "why don't you tell
us?"

"Oh my!" gasped Diggory, "we've taken a fine rise out of the
Philistines; they can't say we're not quits with them now!" and he went
off into a fresh fit of merriment.

Shaw and Morris seized hold of Jack Vance, and at length succeeded in
shaking him into a sufficient state of sobriety to be able to answer
their questions.

"Oh dear," he said faintly, "I never laughed so much in my life before!
Diggory ought to tell you, because he planned it all. We went very
quietly down to Horace House, and found the double doors were shut.
You know just what they're like, how the wall curves in a bit, and
there's a scraper close to the gate-post, on either side, about a foot
from the ground. We'd got an old play-box cord with us, and we tied it
to each of the scrapers. The doors have a sort of iron ring for a
handle, and through this we stuck a broken cricket-stump, and Mug and I
held the two ends so that you couldn't possibly lift the latch on the
inside. Then--but you go on, Diggy."

"Well, then," continued the other, "I scrambled oh to these two chaps'
shoulders, and looked over the top of the door. We could hear some of
the Philistines knocking about on the gravel, and I saw there were
about half a dozen of them playing footer with a tennis-ball. I shouted
out, 'Hullo! Good-afternoon!' They all stood still in a moment, and
young Noaks cried, 'Why, it's a Birchite!--What do you want here, you
young dog?'