For a second he hesitated, and then returning to the spot where he had dressed, picked up his late garments and stuffed them into one of the lockers and shut the lid. Having done this he sat down and waited events. "I've got the key, Tubby!" called out the same aggressively jovial voice. "Right-oh!" responded the other. "D'you know this bally window's open?" There was a grating in the lock. "That's that old ass Smith again!" said the cheerful voice. "I told him to shut it." Mr. Yard rose to his feet. If he had to be captured he would at least enjoy the memory of one really magnificent scrap. There was a sharp click, a bump, and then the door swung open. "Hallo!" exclaimed the young man with the bag. "Hallo!" returned Mr. Yard coolly. The newcomer stared at him for a moment in amazement, and then, with a sudden smile, put down his bag and advanced towards him. "Mr. Logan, I suppose," he said. "This is awfully good of you. I'd just made up my mind we should have to play one short." He put out his hand, which Mr. Yard grasped and shook heartily. At that moment the other young man entered. "This is Logan, Tubby!" exclaimed the first. "He's turned up, after all." "Good man!" exclaimed Tubby. "But how the dickens did you get in?" "Through the window," explained Mr. Yard truthfully. "That's the style," laughed the other. "Jack, why weren't you here to receive your guests? I suppose you came over in Sam's cart?" Mr. Yard, who was trying desperately hard to get his bearings, contented himself with a nod. "Well, I'm most awfly obliged to you for turning up," said Jack. "Old Morton had heard you were at Rundlestone, and suggested my sending you a wire first thing this morning, when Collins cried off. I never thought you'd be able to come." "It was just chance," admitted Mr. Yard frankly. "I got away unexpected." "We're jolly glad to see you, anyhow," broke in Tubby. "The Battery are sending over a beastly hot team, and we should have been absolutely snookered without a back." Mr. Yard suppressed a start. In more innocent days, before the stern career of burglary had claimed him for its own, he had figured as a fullback of some local renown for a famous Yorkshire club. And now apparently it was in the same capacity that he was being so hospitably received by these two unsuspicious young men. Who the missing Logan might be he could only guess. Evidently some well-known player who was staying in the district, and had been invited over to assist Okestock at the eleventh hour. "If he turns up," thought Mr. Yard, "things'll be a bit hot." His reflections were broken in upon by Jack. "These morning matches are the deuce, you know, Logan. Half our fellows are in business, and it's a rare job to get a team together." "One can't always get off when one wants to," said Mr. Yard sympathetically; "I've found that meself."