Now, Plunger had a very characteristic nose—it was a combative nose, and a decided pug. So was the nose on the window-pane. Plunger's hair, too, was peculiar to Plunger. It was wiry, stubborn hair, with a tuft in front which resembled the comb of a turkey-cock. The same peculiarity was seen in the head on the window. And Plunger's eyebrows had a way of mounting to his head, as though they were anxious to get on terms of friendship with the tuft above. The same eccentricity was noticeable in the eyebrows on the window-pane.
"No. I don't know 'em—not a bit. Who do you say they're meant for?" came in jerks from Plunger.
"Who—who? Oh, dear, oh, dear! Why, they're meant for you, Freddy! It's awfully funny, isn't it? I didn't know that your face was so comical!"
Plunger shrugged his shoulders, and affected indifference. He wasn't a bit like that caricature. It was only Sedgeley pretended to see the likeness, and made the other fellows see it with his eyes. At the same time he put out his hand to rub out the sketch. Sedgeley stopped him.
"If it isn't meant for you, Freddy, we may as well see who it is meant for."
"Just as you like," answered Plunger, in his most indifferent tone.
Having assured themselves that there was no one inside, three of the conspirators—Sedgeley, Baldry, and Plunger—entered the shed. A quarter of an hour elapsed, then the door opened; but, instead of the three figures that entered, only two came out—Sedgeley and Baldry. All was silent within. Plunger had disappeared as completely as though he had dropped through the earth.
"All serene?" queried Bember, as the two made their appearance.
"All serene!" came the answer.