“Nine!” cried Singh.
“Rubbish!”
“It is. Look at the shops all open, and the people about.”
“Well; but the time couldn’t have gone like that,” cried Glyn. “Here, what are we going to say? If you are right—why, breakfast’s over ever so long ago, and the fellows are all going in to class. But you can’t be right.”
“Well, there’s the clock,” said Singh contemptuously. “Look for yourself.”
The hands and Roman numerals of the great church clock had only lately been re-gilded, and they seemed to twinkle and blink and point derisively in the bright morning sunshine.
“Oh, I say,” cried Glyn, “who could have thought it! Bother old Ramball and his beasts! Feeding his elephant! I wish somebody would feed me! Why, we shall get no breakfast.”
“Oh yes, we shall,” cried Singh confidently. “Why, you forget we are in the infirmary still, and Mrs Hamton won’t let us go without our breakfast. But come along; let’s trot back round by the shortest way.”
They started the military double directly, and were about half-way back to the school when, as they turned a corner to get into the main road, a sharp military voice shouted:
“Halt! Right face!”