, but that doesn't make sense. What's the point of Cayley
behaving like that?"

Antony shrugged his shoulders without answering.

"And what has happened to Mark since?"

Antony shrugged his shoulders again.

"Well, the sooner we go into that passage, the better," said Bill.

"You're ready to go?"

"Quite," said Bill, surprised.

"You're quite ready for what we may find?"

"You're being dashed mysterious, old boy."

"I know I am." He gave a little laugh, and went on, "Perhaps I'm being
an ass, just a melodramatic ass. Well, I hope I am." He looked at his
watch.

"It's safe, is it? They're still busy at the pond?"

"We'd better make certain. Could you be a sleuthhound, Bill--one of
those that travel on their stomachs very noiselessly? I mean, could you
get near enough to the pond to make sure that Cayley is still there,
without letting him see you?"

"Rather!" He got up eagerly. "You wait."

Antony's head shot up suddenly. "Why, that was what Mark said," he
cried.

"Mark?"

"Yes. What Elsie heard him say."

"Oh, that."

"Yes I suppose she couldn't have made a mistake, Bill? She did hear
him?"

"She couldn't have mistaken his voice, if that's what you mean."

"Oh?"

"Mark had an extraordinary characteristic voice."

"Oh!"

"Rather high-pitched, you know, and well, one can't explain, but--"

"Yes?"

"Well, rather like this, you know, or even more so if anything." He
rattled these words off in Mark's rather monotonous, high-pitched voice,
and then laughed, and added in his natural voice, "I say, that was
really rather good."

Antony nodded quickly. "That was like it?" he said.

"Exactly."

"Yes." He got up and squeezed Bill's arm. "Well just go and see about
Cayley, and then we'll get moving. I shall be in the library."

"Right."

Bill nodded and walked off in the direction of the pond. This was
glorious fun; this was life. The immediate programme could hardly be
bettered. First of all he was going to stalk Cayley. There was a little
copse above the level of the pond, and about a hundred yards away from
it. He would come into this from the back, creep cautiously through
it, taking care that no twigs cracked, and then, drawing himself on his
stomach to the edge, peer down upon the scene below him. People were
always doing that sort of thing in books, and he had been filled with a
hopeless envy of them; well, now he was actually going to do it himself.
What fun!

And then, when he ha