The newcomer at Ridgley remained standing in the bushes as if frozen to the spot. He was revolving in his mind many things: Snubby's seemingly frank and happy manner, the fact that it was he who had first reported a loss, his interest in the subsequent thefts. It seemed impossible; and yet here was indisputable evidence that Snubby had chosen a moment when the dormitory was deserted to break into one of the rooms.
Whose room was it, anyway? Teeny-bits, still looking upward, suddenly realized that the room into which Snubby had broken was Tracey Campbell's; confusing thoughts were still sweeping through his mind when he became aware that some one who was stepping swiftly along the walk that passed close behind the hall was almost upon him. Teeny-bits never knew just why he followed the sudden impulse that came over him. His first thought was that he did not want any one to see him standing there in the shrubbery apparently without reason; he started to crouch, but his quick movement caught the eye of the person who was passing. The footfalls came to a sudden pause, and a voice, which Teeny-bits recognized as that of Mr. Stevens, the English master, called out:
"Who's that?"
With a sinking sensation in the pit of his stomach, Teeny-bits stepped out of the bushes and said:
"It's Findley Holbrook—" and then, as if for good measure, he added his nickname—"Teeny-bits."
"What's up?" asked Mr. Stevens.
The question was put pleasantly, but Teeny-bits knew that behind it there must be wonder and suspicion—yes, surely suspicion—for it was not an ordinary circumstance to find a member of the school concealing himself close to the rear windows of one of the dormitories when all the rest of the school was absent at a mass meeting. For the life of him Teeny-bits could think of nothing to say—he had made up his mind instantly not to tell what he had seen—and there did not seem to be anything else left. For seconds that seemed like hours he did not answer Mr. Stevens' question and then he managed to get a few words across his benumbed lips.
"It's nothing," he said. "I just—I'm—I was coming back from the mass meeting."
Mr. Stevens looked at him keenly and laid a hand on his shoulder. "What's the matter, Teeny-bits?" he asked, and the newcomer at Ridgley knew from the very fact that the master addressed him by his nickname that he expected a straightforward answer.
Teeny-bits looked at Mr. Stevens in dumb misery and said nothing.