“Hist! are you there, Bert?” came in a sibilant whisper from the darkness outside. “It's Sam speaking. You remember me last year, down on the Norfolk coast! Sam Catesby! Of course, you do! I knew you would.”
“Oh, Sam!” exclaimed Bert breathlessly, “can I do a bunk?”
“O' course you can. That's wot I come for. I'm one of the gardeners 'ere. Come on out, quick!”
Bert crept out of the shed and could just dimly discern his friend in the blackness of the night. They clasped hands warmly, but the clasp was a very brief one, for Sam was in a desperate hurry. He grabbed Bert tightly by the arm.
“Come on now,” he whispered hoarsely. “I'll show you where to get over the fence the nearest way to the road. Can you get away if you get outside?”
“Yes, I got my ole bike close near,” replied Bert. “Pu
