Merriwell stepped to the door and hammered loudly on it.
Five minutes passed in unbroken silence. Then he beat another thunderous tattoo on it, long and loud.
Still no response. The house was silent as a tomb.
The Yale man stepped under the window and looked keenly up at it. Was it possible that some one was watching them through that tiny crack? If so, the rapidly falling darkness hid him effectually. With a sigh of regret, Merriwell stepped back, his foot striking a small object on the ground.
Instantly he pounced on it and held it up.
It was a small, worn notebook, bound in red leather and kept together by a rubber band.
For a moment both men gazed in tense silence at the commonplace thing. Then Dick slipped off the band quickly and opened the book.
As his eyes glanced swiftly over the first page, even the semidarkness did not hide the sudden pallor which spread over his face.
“Heavens above!” he breathed in a horror-stricken voice.
“What is it, pard?” Brad asked anxiously. “What has happened?”