“Hallo, so he is,” replied Escott; “I’ll send him up.”
And so there were only left the two men on the ice.
For a little the lesson went on, and presently, leaving the doctor to practise, Mr Beveridge skated away by himself. He first paused opposite a seat on the bank over which hung Dr Escott’s great fur coat. This spectacle appeared to afford him peculiar pleasure. Then he looked at his watch. It was half-past four. He shut the watch with a click, threw a glance at his pupil, and struck out for the island. If the doctor had been looking, he might have seen him round it in the gloaming.
Dr Escott, leaning far on his outside edge, met him as he returned.
“What’s that under your coat?” he asked.
“A picture I intend to ask your opinion on presently,” replied Mr Beveridge; and he added, with his most charming air, “But now, before we go in, let me give you a ride on one of these chairs, doctor.”
They started off, the pace growing faster and faster, and presently Dr Escott saw that they were going behind the island.
“Look out for the spring!” he cried.
“It must be bearing now,” replied Mr Beveridge, striking out harder than ever; “they have taken away the board.”
“All right,” said the doctor, “on you go.”