This exciting dialogue was beginning to attract attention, and many eyes were turned in that direction, which made the Kansan get even redder in the face. Badger thrust a hand into one of the upper pockets of his vest and drew out another paper of the same kind.
"What does this mean?" he growled.
He dived frantically into other pockets. He knew that his position was one hard to explain away, but, with a sort of recklessness, he was determined to know if there were more papers of that kind anywhere about him. He could not imagine how they came there, and the rather wild idea occurred to him that he might have scribbled them over that way in his sleep, for the coming examination had disturbed him and made his nights a bit restless.
There were no other incriminating slips.
"I should like to know what it means myself," said Barton.
He looked sternly at Agnew, but the latter had now obtained control of his countenance, and met the professor's suspicious look with an air of innocent confidence. Agnew felt safe. The paper he had crumpled and thrown under Badger's desk was the only one he had secreted about him. So he knew that even if a search was forced, nothing of an incriminating character could be discovered on him.
"I think I have put you in a mighty tight box, Mr. Buck Badger!" was his gloating thought.
And again that look of triumph returned with such force that he could hide it only by lowering his eyes, and did not raise them throughout the rest of the hour.
That evening, while Morton Agnew was amusing himself with a game of solitaire, and chuckling with glee over the clever manner in which he had put Buck Badger in a "box," a rap sounded on the door of his room that made him jump.
"Come in!" he said.