It had just struck a quarter to something--twelve, he
supposed--on the school clock. He would wait till a quarter past.
Meanwhile, there was nothing to be gained from lurking behind a tree. He
left his cover, and started to stroll in the direction of the pavilion.
Having arrived there, he sat on the steps, looking out onto the
cricket field.
His thoughts were miles away, at Wrykyn, when he was recalled to
Sedleigh by the sound of somebody running. Focusing his gaze, he saw a
dim figure moving rapidly across the cricket field straight for him.
His first impression, that he had been seen and followed, disappeared as
the runner, instead of making for the pavilion, turned aside, and
stopped at the door of the bicycle shed. Like Mike, he was evidently
possessed of a key, for Mike heard it grate in the lock. At this point
he left the pavilion and hailed his fellow rambler by night in a
cautious undertone.
The other appeared startled.
"Who the dickens is that?" he asked. "Is that you, Jackson?"
Mike recognized Adair's voice. The last person he would have expected to
meet at midnight obviously on the point of going for a bicycle ride.
"What are you doing out here.
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