"Dash it!" he said.
Then he went through his pockets again.
"Dash it!" he said once more, with greater vehemence. "I must put that down at once, for fear it may slip me."
So he turned and retraced his steps to the academy. Up to his room went the professor.
It had grown dark, and there was no light in his room. Somewhat to his surprise, his key did not seem to work right in the lock, and then, turning the knob, he found the door was not locked at all.
"Carelessness!" he muttered, as he entered the room.
He started to approach the shelf on which the matches were kept. Then, of a sudden, a dark form sprang at him and hurled him against the wall with such violence that he fell to the floor, stunned. The dark figure rushed from the room and vanished.
The professor did not rise for several minutes, When he collected his scattered senses he began to wonder what had happened. His head was ringing, and he felt very weak. With great difficulty he dragged himself to his feet.
His first thought was to raise an alarm. Then he reached for the matches, found them, and struck one. Glancing about, he saw that his desk was in disorder, papers being scattered about and the drawers pulled out.
Then beside the desk he saw something white. He picked it up. It was a handkerchief, with the letters "R. M." on one corner.