Part 27 (2/2)

”Right you are.”

Antony sat down on the ledge of bricks, swung his feet over, and sat there for a moment, his legs dangling. He flashed his torch into the darkness again, so as to make sure where the steps began; then returned it to his pocket, seized the staple in front of him and swung himself down. His feet touched the steps beneath him, and he let go.

”Is it all right?” said Bill anxiously.

”All right. I'll just go down to the bottom of the steps and back. Stay there.”

The light shone down by his feet. His head began to disappear. For a little while Bill, craning down the opening, could still see faint splashes of light, and could hear slow uncertain footsteps; for a little longer he could fancy that he saw and heard them; then he was alone....

Well, not quite alone. There was a sudden voice in the hall outside.

”Good Lord!” said Bill, turning round with a start, ”Cayley!”

If he was not so quick in thought as Antony, he was quick enough in action. Thought was not demanded now. To close the secret door safely but noiselessly, to make sure that the books were in the right places, to move away to another row of shelves so as to be discovered deep in ”Badminton” or ”Baedeker” or whomever the kind G.o.ds should send to his aid the difficulty was not to decide what to do, but to do all this in five seconds rather than in six.

”Ah, there you are,” said Cayley from the doorway.

”Hallo!” said Bill, in surprise, looking up from the fourth volume of ”The Life and Works of Samuel Taylor Coleridge.” ”Have they finished?”

”Finished what?”

”The pond,” said Bill, wondering why he was reading Coleridge on such a fine afternoon. Desperately he tried to think of a good reason.... verifying a quotation-an argument with Antony-that would do. But what quotation?

”Oh, no. They're still at it. Where's Gillingham?”

'The Ancient Mariner'-water, water, everywhere-or was that something else? And where was Gillingham? Water, water everywhere...

”Tony? Oh, he's about somewhere. We're just going down to the village. They aren't finding anything at the pond, are they?”

”No. But they like doing it. Something off their minds when they can say they've done it.”

Bill, deep in his book, looked up and said ”Yes,” and went back to it again. He was just getting to the place.

”What's the book?” said Cayley, coming up to him. Out of the corner of his eye he glanced at the shelf of sermons as he came. Bill saw that glance and wondered. Was there anything there to give away the secret?

”I was just looking up a quotation,” he drawled. ”Tony and I had a bet about it. You know that thing about-er water, water everywhere, and-er-not a drop to drink.” (But what on earth, he wondered to himself, were they betting about?)

”'Nor any drop to drink,' to be accurate.”

Bill looked at him in surprise. Then a happy smile came on his face.

”Quite sure?” he said.

”Of course.”

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