Having sold all the copies that had been printed, Patch and the others set about their amusement for the day, which the cheerful Septimus intended to celebrate in a way all his own.
He had persuaded Jack to give him a hand with one of his inventions, and Jack, having nothing in particular to do, had consented.
All that afternoon Jack slaved in the workshop, surrounded by levers and wheels, steel bars and cranks. On his glumly remarking that they were the two biggest cranks, Septimus cheerfully replied, "Speak for yourself, old Sport. And when I've sold this invention for a million, I'll remember that the ox was worthy of his hire."
Jack groaned.
It was not until the cricketing team had returned that they came back to the house. Arrived there, Jack learned that Billy Faraday had not come back with the others.
"No," he told Silver, "he's not been back, I'm pretty sure. I wonder—"
He bit his lip and frowned. Was it altogether possible that Billy had fallen foul of Lazare and his gang? It seemed a trifle ridiculous, but—
Just then a fag entered the room, carrying a letter in his hand.
"For you, Symonds," he said.
"Ha!" said Jack. "This is probably from Billy, and will explain. How did you come by it, youngster?"