locks it. And then he bangs on the door and shouts, 'Let me in!'"
Antony was silent. Bill looked at him and shook his head.
"Yes, Tony, 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."
