“You had better take one of the spare rooms, Mr. Haskers,” said Doctor Clay, as another blast of wind swept through the room. “You cannot remain here, with this tree-top in the room. And I am afraid we shall have to saw it up to get it out again. You can be thankful that your life has been spared.” 285
“The furniture is smashed!” murmured the teacher.
“Never mind the furniture, so long as you are not hurt. It can be mended, and all the window needs is some new sash.”
“My things have been scattered,” grumbled the teacher. “A perfect mess!”
“Leave it until morning—you can do nothing to-night,” said the doctor; and so it was finally decided, and teachers and pupils trooped off to bed. The broken-in door was closed, but it could not be locked.
The boys had scarcely gotten back to the dormitories when Dave called Phil, Ben, Roger, and Buster to one side.
“Now is our chance,” he whispered. “Did you notice that the bureau and the writing-desk in Haskers’s room were smashed? It may not be the most honorable thing to do, but I think we are justified in looking his things over and seeing if we can’t find some clew to that letter Jason Sparr received.”
“Right you are!” declared Phil, promptly, and the others said practically the same.
They waited until the other boys had retired once more, and then, at a signal from Dave, all filed silently into the hallway again and tiptoed their way to the room below. Soon, they were inside and had the light lit, and also a lantern 286 which belonged to Ben’s bicycle, and which he had chanced to have on hand.
Silently and with great care the boys went over the many things that had been scattered over the floor—wearing apparel, books, pads, papers, and various articles of more or less value. Presently Phil gave a low cry.