ker his Bible. It opened, of course, at the place
in which Stanley had placed his note. Paul unfolded and read it, with no
small astonishment: "Beware! Steer clear of Bedes. Plot on foot to turn
you from Garside."

Plot on foot to turn him from Garside! What could the plot be? This note
was more puzzling than the other. Like that, too, it was unsigned; but
this time Paul was beaten. The writing was unknown to him. He could not
guess the writer, but he could see plainly enough that it was in a
disguised hand.

Then he suddenly realized that the two notes clashed. The one was an
invitation to meet a Bede; the other warned him to steer clear of Bedes.
If he obeyed the one, he would have to disregard the other. What was he
to do? He did not hesitate long. Wyndham he knew. His friendship had
been proved. He knew nothing of this anonymous writer--the writer who
professed to warn him of a hidden danger, but did so in a disguised
hand, and had not the courage to put to it his name. He would keep the
appointment with Wyndham, whatever happened.

So the next day, as soon as the clock had struck two, and he was free,
Paul started off for the old elm, near the sand-pits. Punctual though he
was, Wyndham was awaiting him.

"I'm so glad you've come, Percival," he said, as he came towards him and
shook him warmly by the hand. "I've splendid news to tell you."

"The flag?" exclaimed Paul, speaking the thought that was uppermost in
his mind.

"You've made a very good guess. Yes, the flag. I've got some very good
news about it--very good news indeed. In fact, I rather fancy I know
where it is."

"Where--where? Can we make for it?" exclaimed Paul, excited at the news.

"Wait a bit. Don't be in such a steaming hurry!" smiled Wyndham. "Before
I say a word more, I must ask you not to make use of the information I'm
going to give you against any of our fellows at Bede's."

Paul readily consented. To get possession of the flag was the chief
thing he cared for. That accomplished, he could afford to be
magnanimous.

"From the first I suspected that one of our fellows had a hand in it,"
went on Wyndham. "You remember that day when you were set upon by a
dozen or so of the sweet cherubs from Bede's?"

"Only too well."

"Sorry to stir up painful memories. There was one amongst the number
said to belong to the amphibia. Do you recollect that, too?"

"Of course I do!" laughed Paul. "Mellor, you mean--once a Gargoyle, now
a distinguish