"What's the matter, Bob?" inquired Peters, with friendly concern; "you're not looking well."
"Oh, I'm all right," impatiently answered Robert. Then came breakfast, which seemed interminable. Robert sat at his table's head longing for the order "rise." Food would have choked him; he gulped down a cup of coffee, and sat idly drumming the table.
After breakfast Glassfell came up to him. "Look here, Bob, what's bothering you?" he asked with real solicitude. "You're not yourself this morning, old chap. What's the trouble?"
"Have you seen Stonewell?" abruptly asked Robert.
"By jingo!" exclaimed Glassfell. "Last night I could have sworn I saw Stonewell pass me. I was on Main Street, and a midshipman with some stripes, and I thought a good many, passed me in a great hurry and turned into Conduit Street. It was dark and yet at the time I had no thought but that it was Stonewell. 'Hello, Stone!' I called out; 'I thought you were in Washington;' but the fellow paid no attention to me. He seemed to be in a hurry, almost running. Then I concluded I must have been mistaken, because I knew Stone was in Washington, and it was pretty dark. The thing bothered me a bit for the time, but I must have been mistaken. I had taken my partner home from the Armory and was on my way back. It was about half-past eleven, I think. But why do you ask me about Stone? He won't be back from Washington until ten this morning."
"If you see him tell him I'm looking for him," and Robert turned away. He now wanted to be by himself. He went in one of the wing corridors and looked out of the window, hardly replying to different salutations of midshipmen who passed him. Outside it was raining, one of those tenacious rains that seem determined to last throughout the day. Overhead were spread heavy dark forbidding clouds; the day was gloomy and hopeless, but not nearly so much so as felt this midshipman.
After a while one stroke of the bell told Robert it was half-past eight, and soon he saw the commandant's tall form, wrapped up in a great rubber coat, come down the walk. Some time later he saw two figures emerge from the trees that line the main walk; one he recognized as that of Commander Beckwith, the head of the Department of Mathematics, the other, of low figure and shambling walk, he instantly recognized as that of old Grice. With throbbing heart, Robert watched them until they disappeared into the commandant's office; then the cadet lieutenant went to his room.
It was evident to him that Grice had told his story to Commander Beckwith and the latter was now talking with the commandant about it. Robert waited for the summons he knew was coming, to appear before the commandant. Thoughts came surging through his brain. Sooner than testify against Stonewell he would accept dismissal. And likewise, in spite of his bitter dislike toward Harry Blunt, before he would bring disgrace upon the dear friends who had done so much for him, he would accept dismissal. Robert, with a steady mind, without hesitation, determined on this stand. He now knew his last moment of inaction had arrived. Not that he had any hope or expectation of saving either Stonewell or Blunt, but that he should be the means of their disgrace and dismissal was an unbearable thought. It were far better to bilge.
Steps were heard in the corridor and Farnum appeared at his door.