Tom was ahead of them in Number 7 when they arrived, and he looked quizzically at them and drew a finger suggestively across his throat. “Shall we pack now, Alf, or wait until after breakfast?” he asked.
“Pack?” said Dan, missing the point. “What for?”
“Because, Mr. Innocent Young Thing, I fancy we may be leaving these classic shades before long.”
“Oh, rot!” said Dan, uneasily. “They can’t do any more than put us on pro.”
“Anyhow,” said Gerald, “it doesn’t concern you fellows, Tom. He doesn’t know you were there or he’d have called you up.”
The other three looked at each other thoughtfully. Then,
“But of course he will find out,” said Alf, questioningly.
“Sure to,” Dan agreed.
“Will he, though?” mused Tom. “Who’s going to tell him?” Alf glanced at Gerald, and the latter flushed.
“That’s rotten, Alf!” he cried.