“I was only going to sit down,” protested Pocket, having satisfied his conscience that in the first place that was all he really had been going to do. “There are plenty of places to sit down,” rejoined the policeman. “You’re not allowed in here. And unless you look sharp about it you won’t have time to sit down at all.” “Why not?” “The Park closes at twelve.” “Closes?” “At twelve o’clock, and it’s half-past eleven now.” The boy’s heart sank into his wet boots. Here was an end of all his dashing plans. He was certain he had heard or read of people sleeping in the Park; he had looked upon it as a vast dormitory of the houseless; that was the only reason he was there. The offensive clerk in the hotel had evidently entertained the same belief. This idiot of a policeman must be wrong. But he seemed quite clear about it. “Did you think we were open all night?” he inquired with a grin. “I did,” said Pocket; and he was inspired to add, “I even thought a lot of loafers used to sleep here all night!” The policeman chuckled aloud. “They may if they get up the trees; that’s about their only chance,” said he. “You search the whole place so thoroughly?” “We keeps our eyes open,” said the policeman significantly, and Pocket asked no more questions; he scaled the forbidden fence and made off with the alacrity of one who meant to go out before he was put out. Such was his then sincere and sound intention. But where next to turn, to what seat on the Embankment, or what arch in the slums, in his ignorance of London he had no idea. Meanwhile, to increase the irony of his dilemma, now that he was bent on quitting the Park he found himself striking deeper and deeper into its heart. He skirted a building, left it behind and out of sight, and drifted before the wind of destiny between an upright iron fence on one hand and a restricted open space upon the other. He could no longer see a single light; but the ground rose abruptly across the fence, and was thick with shrubs. Men might have been lying behind those shrubs, and Pocket could not possibly have seen them from the path. Did the policeman mean to tell him that he or his comrades were going to climb every fence and look behind every bush in Hyde Park? Pocket came to anchor with a new flutter at his heart. This upright fence was not meant for scaling; it was like a lot of area palings, as obvious and intentional an obstacle. And the whole place closed at twelve, did it? The flutter became a serious agitation as Pocket saw himself breaking the laws of the land as well as those of school, saw himself not only expelled but put in prison! Well, so much the better for his story so long as those penalties were not incurred; even if they were, so much the greater hero he!