"If you really think I can be spared?"
"My dear Carey, on an occasion of this sort it is a pleasure for me to dispense with your services—not that they will be wanted in any way, for I don't suppose any more of my young ruffians are likely to run away to enlist."
"Then thank you very much; that is what I will do."
"Yes, by all means. And, for my part, I think I shall go out and try my luck. I must see if I can't shoot for both of you and bring back a goose or two."
Then I went away.
Lockhart and I had tea with the boys as usual. There was an air of suppressed excitement in the dining-hall. The exploit of Dickson max. had fired the imagination of everyone, though possibly a keener observer than was among his companions might have detected a suppressed and unholy joy in Dickson major, which was not entirely due to his brother's escapade. I had always thought that a weak spot in our plan. If the Doctor had known anything at all about the characters of his pupils, he would have realised that where Dickson max. went, Dickson major went too. Fortunately the Doctor did not.
At half-past eight I dressed in fowling kit, a grey sweater, a coat of nondescript colour, grey flannel trousers, and great thigh boots for the marsh. My headgear was an old, dun-coloured shooting hat, the lining of which could be pulled down to make a mask for the face, with two holes to see through; for it is essential to the wild-fowler to wear nothing too light or too dark, to show no glimpse of a pink face, because the wild goose, as even the greatest big-game hunters of the day allow, is the wariest of all created things. Then I took my heavy ten-bore, with its dulled barrels and oxydised furniture, slipped my three-inch brass "perfects" loaded with B.B. into my pockets, and telephoned to Doris.
It was all right. The Doctor was in his own room having supper, and Marjorie was with him. It was impossible that he could see me leave in fowling kit, and in a moment more I had wished my dear girl good-night and was out in the dark.
The wind cried in the chimneys of the old house with a strange and wailing note. The moon was not yet up, and the far-distant sea drummed like an army. As I turned towards the Sea Wood, some great night-bird passed overhead with an eerie cry, like a man in pain.
For myself, my heart was beating rapidly, my teeth were set and I felt nothing of the cold. To-night, if ever, we were to discover the secret of the marshes. My brother had taken the helm of the ship, and his decks were cleared for action. His foresight and resource were admirable. Nothing escaped him, and we were meeting the dark plot with another which allowed nothing to chance. This is what had happened.