"Very silly," John admitted. "It looked as if somebody wanted to get you out of the fort for a day or two. That's why the Colonel wouldn't grant you leave. He didn't think you were playing a trick on him. He thought some one was playing a trick on you. How are your guns, Ewins?"
"Nicely, sir, thank you," answered the chief gunner. "But I'm sorry we've missed our nine-inch practice this week."
"You won't miss much by that," John answered. "You'll shoot as well as ever when the time comes."
He knew how soon the time would come, though Ewins did not.
John descended the steps of the fort, took his bicycle, and, with due observance of ceremonies, passed through the great gate that had recently all but intimidated Mrs. Beecher Monmouth.
An hour later, John, still pedalling steadily, descended the winding road into Brooke. At the outskirts of the village he placed his bicycle against a gate, climbed into a field, and, by a detour, made his way to the back of Doctor Voules's house. In the darkness he walked softly forward under the shadow of the doctor's garden wall He had made only a few paces when a voice came to him out of the gloom.
"Who's that?" demanded the voice, in a guarded whisper.
"Treves," answered John. "Is that you, Watson?"
"Yes, sir," came the answer.
John drew himself to the top of the garden wall and looked down upon a corporal in uniform.