His first impression, that he had been seen and followed, disappeared as the runner, instead of making for the pavilion, turned aside, and stopped at the door of the bicycle shed. Like Mike, he was evidently possessed of a key, for Mike heard it grate in the lock. At this point he left the pavilion and hailed his fellow rambler by night in a cautious undertone.
The other appeared startled.
"Who the dickens is that?" he asked. "Is that you, Jackson?"
Mike recognized Adair's voice. The last person he would have expected to meet at midnight obviously on the point of going for a bicycle ride.
"What are you doing out here. Jackson?"
"What are you, if it comes to that?"
Adair was adjusting his front light.
"I'm going for the doctor. One of the chaps in our house is bad."
"Oh!"
"What are you doing out here?"