Indeed, the explosions of the petrol launch were now decidedly irregular—and after a while they ceased altogether.
"Done them!" panted Jack. "Diddled the beggars again! Patch, you ought to get a King's Prize for that shot!"
Triumphantly the Deepwater College fellows pulled at their oars, and there was still no sound from the rival boat. After an interval the engine took up its beat again—but slowly and uncertainly, as if it were likely to break down at any moment.
"They're going slow!" announced Patch. "We can dish them at this rate. Isn't that the Coll. jetty across there? By jove, there's a light—it must be the Head! Pull up, my giddy buccaneers!"
Falling to the oars with a will, the boat's crew soon arrived at the jetty. They listened there for any sound of the petrol launch's engine; but the immense bay was quite still.
"They've broken down," said Fane, "or else they've turned back, and we can't hear them. What price capturing the beggars! Get hold of Mr. Glenister, and a few hefty fellows out of the Sixth, and we could grab them."
"If so, we mustn't lose any time," said Patch. "Come along, you fellows!"
They raced back to the College, and hurried in through a window that they had conveniently left open.
There they had the greatest surprise of the night. They were moving along the masters' corridor, on their way to the Head's study, when Doctor Daw's door opened, and the accomplice of Lazare himself appeared. He was carrying a handbag, and wore an overcoat—his other attire was all for travelling.
Lightning comprehension burst on Jack's brain.