“I’ll go and turn it quietly,” said Percy, “if you back up in case he flies out.”
But the precaution was not needed. Percy, who luckily had just taken off his boots, slipped up silently to the door, and the others from their lurking-place saw him quietly turn the key and then walk back, evidently unheard by the prisoner within.
He passed the stair-head just before the doctor came up, and to their great relief ran into the arms of his friends unchallenged.
The doctor, indeed, was too pre-occupied to dream that, as he went to Clapperton’s study, nine small heads were craning out of a door at the end of the passage, watching his every step.
“I say,” whispered Ashby, in tones of horror, “suppose Clap thinks it’s one of us, and goes for him!”
“My eye, what a go!” ejaculated Cash.
They saw the stately figure stand a moment at the door and turn the handle.
Next moment he reeled back with an exclamation of amazement, nearly felled to the ground by a bulky dictionary hurled at his head!
The nine lurkers fairly embraced one another in horror at the sight of this awful outrage; and when, a moment after, they saw the doctor gather himself together and return to the charge, this time closing the door behind him, they did not envy the unlucky Clapperton the awkward five minutes in store for him.
How the two arranged matters no one could say. But as no sounds of violence issued, and the doctor did not summon any one to fetch his cane, they concluded Clapperton had offered a sufficiently humble apology for his mistake.