We peeped out, and saw Pudleigh looking at the door. He chuckled greasily, turned on his heel and went down the street.
"It's up to papa," said Chelubai in a shaky whisper; and we came out, and followed him swiftly on noiseless feet.
He waddled along, and we caught him up under the palings of the Oval. As I passed him I knocked off his hat with a smart tap of my cane. He turned his face to me, and said, "What the"
There was a thud, and down he went.
I stood staring at him stupidly, and Chelubai hissed in my ear: "Be smart! You go that way, I'll go this."
I looked at Chelubai, and with some half-formed notion of preventing the identification of Pudleigh, stooped down, caught up his bag and strode off down towards the Harleyford Road, dimly aware that Chelubai was hurrying round the Oval the other way.
At the corner I looked back, and saw that Pudleigh, lying in the shadow of the Oval palings, was hardly visible.
