"About this flag," broke in Wyndham. "Do you know for certain that it's been taken by some fellow here?"
"No; it's only a suspicion. I may be wrong, but I don't think I am."
"When was it missed?"
"On that afternoon when the accident took place on the river. It was a half-holiday at both schools. It was waving over the turret when I left the school; it had gone when I came back."
"That's over a week ago, isn't it?"
"Yes."
"The fellow who took it must have had plenty of pluck. Well, if I can do anything in fairness to get you your flag back again, I'll do it; but at present it's as great a mystery to me as to you."
The two shook hands and parted.
Plunger and Harry had crept through a hedge, and witnessed a good deal of the interview that had taken place between the two, without hearing anything. When the two passed down the road—Wyndham with his arm linked in Paul's—Plunger and Harry prepared to follow them; but before they could move a step they were seized by the legs and thrown to the ground.
"Those Gargoyles!" The words were enough. They were in the hands of the enemy.