The persecuted senior, after the first surprise, made a frantic rush, first at the window, and then, finding the bird flown, at the door. The latter was locked. He could hear a scuffling and scrambling in the lobby outside, followed by a stampede; after which dead silence prevailed, save for the vicious kicking of the imprisoned hero at his own door.
“Whew!” said Wally, fanning himself when the juniors were safe back in Percy’s study. “That was a squeak, if you like. How on earth am I to do it?”
“Better let him off,” suggested some one.
Wally resented the suggestion as an insult.
“Not likely,” said he. “I’ll do it. I don’t care, if you all back up.”
And in a minute, when the sound of the kicking had ceased, and Clapperton had apparently retired once more to his work, he crept out into the lobby, followed stealthily by the whole band.
As they passed the head of the stairs, whose voice should they hear below, inquiring of a middle-boy if Clapperton was in the house, but the doctor’s?
“Yes, sir; shall I tell him you want him?” said the boy.
“No, I’ll go up to his room,” said the head-master.
“Whew!” said Wally, “what a go! and the door’s locked on the outside!”