et, with
schoolboy sarcasm. His eyes, however, were purposely closed, and they had
missed the old daggers in Baumgartner's.

"You know best," said the doctor. "But you are missing the morning of
your life! Not a cloud in the sky, only the golden rain in my little
garden. I suppose you have not learnt what the golden rain is at your
public school? You English call it laburnum; but we Germans have more
imagination, thank God!"

Pocket did not open his eyes again till he had gone; next instant he had
the door open too, as the doctor's step was creaking down the lower flight
of stairs. Once more Pocket ventured out upon the landing, not quite to
the banisters; he trusted to his ears as before. They told him the doctor
had gone into his dark-room. His heart sank. It was only for a moment.
The dark-room door shut sharply. The steps came creaking back along the
hall, went grating out upon the doorstep. There was another sharp
shutting. Food at last!

It was neither very nice nor half enough for a famishing lad, that plate
of cold mixed meats from the restaurant, with a hard stale roll to eke
them out. But Pocket felt he had a fresh start in life when he had eaten
every crumb and emptied his water-bottle. Nor was he without plan or
purpose any longer; he was only doubtful whether to knock at Phillida's
door and shout goodbye, or to leave her a note explaining all.
Baumgartner would be out for hours; he always was, on these early jaunts
of his; there would almost be time to wait and say goodbye properly when
the girl came down. She would hardly hinder him a second time, and he
longed to see her and speak to her again, especially if that was to be the
end between them. He did not mean it to be the end, by any means; but any
nonsense that might have been gathering in the schoolboy's head was, at
this point, more than rudely dispelled by the discovery that Dr.
Baumgartner had removed his clothes!

Pocket swore an oath that would have shocked him in a schoolfellow; it was
a practice he indeed abhorred, but decent words would not meet such a
case. It was to be met by action, however, just as that locked door had
been met, and the policeman's prohibition in the Park. He knew where his
clothes must be. He slipped his overcoat, which he was using as a
dressing-gown, over his pyjamas, and ran right downstairs as Dr.
Baumgartner had done not many minutes before him. His clothes were in the
dark-room. But the dark-ro