“Which way are you going in?” asked Ned, of Bart, who was leading this midnight expedition.
“Through the side court, and in at the girls’ door. That’s most always open, as Riggs, the janitor, lives on that side of the school, and he doesn’t take the trouble to lock the door, as his house is so near.”
“Good idea,” commented Frank. “Lead on, Falstaff, an’ may he who——”
“Cut it out,” advised Bart sharply. “This is no time to spout Shakespeare stuff.”
Once more the three advanced. Suddenly Bart stopped, and Ned, who was close behind, collided with him.
“What’s wrong now?” whispered Ned, as soon as he caught his breath.
“Hush!” cautioned Bart. “I saw a man just then! He was right by the front door of the school.” Bart had come to a halt in the shadow of a buttress, just before stepping across an open space that led to the court.
“A man,” murmured Ned. “Probably it was Riggs, the janitor.”
“No, he was too tall for Riggs,” answered Bart. “Besides, he didn’t limp, as Riggs does, from a leg that was once broken. No, this man wasn’t Riggs.”
“What was he doing?” asked Frank.