CHAPTER XXV
ON THE THIRD FLOOR OF HALE
By following Lincoln Street and the path through the Seminary yard, Dick covered two sides of a triangle much more quickly than the pedestrian could the third side, the direct road from campus to academy. He leaned the bicycle against the gymnasium wall out of sight, and crept into the shelter of the high steps of Carter, whence he could command a view of the dormitories without being seen himself. Never had the old academy yard worn such an air of silence and desertion. Old Robeson was raking the driveway on the other side of the gymnasium; the Saturday cleaners were buried in the depths of the recitation building. Except for the indescribable roar of distant cheering, which came in bursts from the direction of the campus, or the noise of an occasional wagon rattling along the street, the green-turfed yard might have been some silent meadow afar from the haunts of men.
“Every dormitory window open!” thought Dick, as he glanced around the yard, “and half the doors too, I’ll bet. Those fellows really deserve to lose some of their things. But what a cinch for a thief!”
Some minutes passed before Bosworth appeared on the street and turned leisurely into the yard. When he reached the point where the path divided, he hesitated an instant before turning away from his own dormitory toward the middle entry of Hale. At the Hale steps he stopped again, threw a hurried glance over the yard, and disappeared into the dormitory entry. A moment later Dick was scuttling along the driveway toward the corner of Hale.
Hardly had he gained the shelter of the dormitory wall and begun to creep along beneath the windows toward the middle entry, when a sudden apparition at the farther corner drew from his lips an exclamation of wonder which would certainly have betrayed him if Bosworth had been near enough to hear it. There was Varrell, quietly working his way along the wall from the other direction, his face flushed red as if from a long hard run, but showing not the slightest surprise at this meeting with his confederate. They came together at the entrance, where Varrell, checking with an unmistakable gesture Melvin’s obvious intention to ask questions, crept stealthily in and crouched against the wall under the stairs. His friend followed close after.
“Shoes off!” whispered Varrell, with lips close to Dick’s ear. The order was obeyed without question. Varrell placed his straw hat beside his shoes; Dick imitated him.
“Can you hear him?” came in a second whisper.
Dick listened: at first absolute silence; then the sound from the second floor of a door being carefully shut, followed by the scrape of a sole upon the marble staircase above; then the click of a door-knob, and silence again.
“He’s just left a room in the second story and gone up to one in the third,” whispered Dick.
“Now is our time,” announced Varrell, and led the way up. Their steps were noiseless on the solid stone. The doors to both suites on the third floor were closed.