"Stop!" said Peggy. "Who are you, and what are you doing here?"
"I'm the plumber, miss," said the man, still walking away.
"Put down those things!" cried Peggy. "Do you hear? or I'll call the police!"
Apparently the man did not hear, or else did not fancy the idea suggested to him, for he began to run down the long corridor as fast as he could go.
So it came to pass that the school, waiting peacefully for its pudding, heard a sound of hasty feet scurrying down the stairs. Then, all in a rush, came past the door the flying figure of a man, with Peggy Montfort in hot pursuit.
"Stop thief!" Peggy shouted it once, and then prudently saved her breath. The man fumbled for an instant at the front door, gave it up, darted into Miss Russell's study. Crash went a window; he was out, with Peggy at his heels, and away across the lawn.
"Stop thief!" the cry rang through the school; and, lo! in the twinkling of an eye there was no school there. The long dining-room was emptied as if by magic; the front door flew open, and out streamed the seventy maidens, all crying "Stop thief!" all running their very best to come up with the flying pair.
There were some good runners at Pentland School; but after the first few minutes of running together, jostling and pushing, two girls drew rapidly away from the rest, and soon left them far behind. Gertrude Merryweather and Grace Wolfe had long been friendly rivals in what they called the royal sport of running. Perhaps neither of them was sorry of this opportunity for a "good spurt." Certainly it was a pretty sight, the two tall, graceful creatures, lithe and long-limbed as young greyhounds, speeding over the ground, their arms held close at their sides, their eyes flashing, youth and strength seeming to radiate from them as they ran. Now one drew ahead a little, now the other; but for the most part they kept side by side, for both were running their best, not only for the joy and honour of the thing, but because it was necessary to arrive, to help Peggy and catch the thief.
The thief was evidently not a trained athlete, but he was doing his best. He had cut himself a good deal in smashing the window, and had thrown away part of his booty, hoping that his relentless pursuer might be content, and might stop to pick up the brooches and belt-buckles that lay at her feet; but Peggy never looked at them, and held on straight after him, gaining, undoubtedly gaining. The man doubled back across the lawn, hoping to reach the gate and safety; but Peggy headed him off as quietly and coolly as if he were an unruly steer in the home stock-yard. Again he doubled, and again the girl was running in a diagonal to cut off his approach to the wished-for retreat. But now he caught sight of the two tall avengers bearing down upon him, and the school in full cry behind. He made a desperate spurt and reached the gate; it was half open, and as he rushed through he slammed it behind him with a hoarse shout of defiance. But much Peggy cared for gates! She was over in an instant, and at his heels again. And realising this, the rascal suddenly changed his tactics. He stopped short, and, turning on Peggy a villainous face, bade her with an oath, "Come on, and see what she would get for it!"
The words had not left his lips, when a ludicrous change came over the man's face. He uttered a wild yell, and fell headlong, almost at Peggy's feet. When Peggy saw this, she knew what to do; and when Grace and Gertrude came flying up a moment after, they found her sitting quietly on the rascal's head, and telling Colney Hatch to go for the police.