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"I've just got one or two little things to do," said Cayley. "I shan't be long following you."

"Well, good night, then."

"Good night."

"Good night," called Bill from half-way up the stairs. "Good night, Tony."

"Good night."

Bill looked at his watch.

Half-past eleven.

Not much chance of anything happening for another hour.

He pulled open a drawer and wondered what to wear on their expedition.

Grey flannel trousers, flannel shirt, and a dark coat; perhaps a sweater, as they might be lying out in the copse for some time.

And good idea a towel.

He would want it later on, and meanwhile he could wear it round his waist.

Tennis-shoes.... There. Everything was ready. Now then for the dummy figure.

He looked at his watch again before getting into bed.

Twelve-fifteen.

How long to wait before Cayley came up? He turned out the light, and then, standing by the door in his pyjamas, waited for his eyes to become accustomed to the new darkness....

He could only just make out the bed in the corner of the room.

Cayley would want more light than that if he were to satisfy himself from the door that the bed was occupied.

He pulled the curtains a little way back.

That was about right.

He could have another look later on, when he had the dummy figure in the bed.

How long would it be before Cayley came up? It wasn't that he wanted his friends, Beverley and Gillingham, to be asleep before he started on his business at the pond; all that he wanted was to be sure that they were safely in their bedrooms.

Cayley's business would make no noise, give no sign, to attract the most wakeful member of the household, so long as the household was really inside the house.

But if he wished to reassure himself about his guests, he would have to wait until they were far enough on their way to sleep not to be disturbed by him as he came up to reassure himself.

So it amounted to the same thing, really.

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