"By Jove! there's Knivett!" uttered Roland Yorke. "Where's he off to,
so fast? I have something that I must tell him."

Snatching up his hat, Roland darted at full speed out of the office, in
search of one who was running at full speed also down the street.
Hamish looked out, amused, at the chase; Arthur, who had called after
Roland in vain, seemed vexed. "Knivett is one of the fleetest runners
in Helstonleigh," said Hamish. "Yorke will scarcely catch him up."

"I wish Yorke would allow himself a little thought, and not act upon
impulse," exclaimed Arthur. "I cannot stop three minutes longer: and he
knows that! I shall be late for college."

He was already preparing to go there. Putting some papers in order upon
his desk, and locking up others, he carried the letter for Ventnor into
Mr. Galloway's private room and placed it in the letter rack. Two
others, ready for the post, were lying there. Then he went to the front
door to look out for Yorke. Yorke was not to be seen.

"What a thoughtless fellow he is!" exclaimed Arthur, in his vexation.
"What is to be done? Hamish, you will have to stop here."

"Thank you! what else?" asked Hamish.

"I must be at the college, whatever betide." This was true: yet neither
might the office be left vacant. Arthur grew a little flurried. "Do
stay, Hamish: it will not hinder you five minutes, I dare say. Yorke is
sure to be in."

Hamish came to the door, halting on its first step, and looking out