The room was empty.
He flew across to the window and crouched down, peeping over the sill at the opening on the other side of the court leading to Mr.Mackintosh's staircase.
He was rewarded almost instantly.

Even as he settled himself on the window seat a black figure, with gown ballooning behind, hurried out and whisked through the archway leading towards the street.

He gave him twenty seconds, and then ran out himself, and went in pursuit.

Half-way up the lane he sighted him once more, and, following cautiously on tiptoe, with a handkerchief up to his face, was in time to behold Mr.
Mackintosh disappear into the little telegraph office on the left of Trinity Street.
"That settles it, then," observed Frank, almost aloud.

"Poor Jack--I'm afraid I shan't be able to breakfast with him after all!" (IV) It was a little after four o'clock on the following morning that a policeman, pacing with slow, flat feet along the little lane that leads from Trinity Hall to Trinity College, yawning as he went, and entirely unconscious of the divine morning air, bright as wine and clear as water, beheld a remarkable spectacle.
There first appeared, suddenly tossed on to the spikes that top the gate that guards the hostel, a species of pad that hung over on both sides of the formidable array of points.