Sheen thanked him and departed, still puzzled. Linton, as he knew him, was not the sort of fellow to do a thing like that. And the other, the second eleven man, must be Dunstable. They were always about together. He did not know much about Dunstable, but he could hardly believe that this sort of thing was his form either. Well, he would have to think of that later. He must concentrate himself now on covering the distance to the school in the minimum of time. He looked at his watch. Twenty minutes more. If he hurried, he might not be so very late. He wished that somebody would come by in a cart, and give him a lift. He stopped and listened. No sound of horse's hoof broke the silence. He walked on again. Then, faint at first, but growing stronger every instant, there came from some point in the road far behind him a steady droning sound. He almost shouted with joy. A motor! Even now he might do it. But could he stop it? Would the motorist pay any attention to him, or would he flash past and leave him in the dust? From the rate at which the drone increased the car seemed to be travelling at a rare speed. He moved to one side of the road, and waited. He could see the lights now, flying towards him. Then, as the car hummed past, he recognised its driver, and put all he knew into a shout. "Bruce!" he cried. For a moment it seemed as if he had not been heard. The driver paid not the smallest attention, as far as he could see. He looked neither to the left nor to right. Then the car slowed down, and, backing, came slowly to where he stood. "Hullo," said the driver, "who's that?" Jack Bruce was alone in the car, muffled to the eyes in an overcoat. It was more by his general appearance than his face that Sheen had recognised him. "It's me, Sheen. I say, Bruce, I wish you'd give me a lift to Seymour's, will you?" There was never any waste of words about Jack Bruce. Of all the six hundred and thirty-four boys at Wrykyn he was probably the only one whose next remark in such circumstances would not have been a question. Bruce seldom asked questions--never, if they wasted time. "Hop in," he said. Sheen consulted his watch again. "Lock-up's in a quarter of an hour," he said, "but they give us ten minutes' grace. That allows us plenty of time, doesn't it?" "Do it in seven minutes, if you like." "Don't hurry," said Sheen. "I've never been in a motor before, and I don't want to cut the experience short. It's awfully good of you to give me a lift." "That's all right," said Bruce. "Were you going anywhere? Am I taking you out of your way?" "No. I was just trying the car. It's a new one. The pater's just got it." "Do you do much of this?" said Sheen. "Good bit. I'm going in for the motor business when I leave school." "So all this is training?" "That's it." There was a pause. "You seemed to be going at a good pace just now," said Sheen. "About thirty miles an hour. She can move all right."