ity for silence and thought had
become imperative. What could he do? It was certain that Warde was
waiting and watching. He had inexhaustible patience. Desmond, not the
Demon, would be caught and expelled. John returned to Desmond's room.

"You've told me so much," he said; "tell me a little more. How are you
going to do it?"

"To do what?"

"Get out of the house? Get a bike--and all that?"

"Easy. Lovell went out that way, and others. You jump from the sill of
the first landing window into the horse-chestnut. One must be able to
jump, of course; but I can jump. Then you shin down the tree, nip
through the shrubbery, and over the locked wicket-gate."

"Yes," John said slowly, "over the gate."

"I borrowed a bike from one of the Cycle Corps, and have ridden it in
the garden, in a bush to the right of the gate."

John nodded.

"It's moonlight after ten; I shall enjoy the ride immensely."

"You will try to get back into the house at night?"

"Too dangerous. Lovell did it; but the Demon marches in boldly just
before Chapel. He may have slipped out on half a dozen errands as soon
as the door is opened in the morning. I shall sleep under a stack. It's
a lovely night. Now, old Jonathan, I hope you're satisfied that I'm not
either the fool or the sinner you took me to be."

"Look here, Harry. If I appeal to you in the name of our friendship; if
I ask you for my sake and for my mother's sake not to do this thing----"

"Jonathan, I must go. Don't make it harder than it is."

"Then it _is_ hard?"

"I won't whine about that. I courted this adventure, and, by Jove! I'm
going to see it through. The odds are a hundred to one against my being
nailed."

"All right; I'll say no more. Good night."

"Good night, old Jonathan."

John went back to his room, waited three minutes, and then, in despair,
made up his mind to seek Scaife. He felt certain that the Demon's
extraordinary luck was about to stand between him and expulsion. Desmond
would be caught red-handed, but not he. John ground his teeth with rage
at the thought. He found Scaife alone--at work on cricketing accounts.

"Hullo, Verney!"

"Caesar tells me that he is going up to London to-night."

"Oh, he told you that, did he?"

"Yes; you wished him to tell me?"

"Perhaps." Scaife laughed louder.

"You want to prove to me," said John slowly, "that you are the
stronger?"

"Perhaps." Scaife laughed.

"Well, if I surrender, if I admit that you are the str