His informant was not sure. Would it be Lindon?
"Linton," said Sheen.
That was it.
Sheen thanked him and departed, still puzzled. Linton, as he knew him, was not the sort of fellow to do a thing like that. And the other, the second eleven man, must be Dunstable. They were always about together. He did not know much about Dunstable, but he could hardly believe that this sort of thing was his form either. Well, he would have to think of that later. He must concentrate himself now on covering the distance to the school in the minimum of time. He looked at his watch. Twenty minutes more. If he hurried, he might not be so very late. He wished that somebody would come by in a cart, and give him a lift.
He stopped and listened. No sound of horse's hoof broke the silence. He walked on again.
Then, faint at first, but growing stronger every instant, there came from some point in the road far behind him a steady droning sound. He almost shouted with joy. A motor! Even now he might do it.
But could he stop it? Would the motorist pay any attention to him, or would he flash past and leave him in the dust? From the rate at which the drone increased the car seemed to be travelling at a rare speed.
He moved to one side of the road, and waited. He could see the lights now, flying towards him.
Then, as the car hummed past, he recognised its driver, and put all he knew into a shout.
"Bruce!" he cried.