"Not with banquet cake, Freddy," laughed Howe; "you'll have plain bread—until after the banquet. Now just give us your coat and vest, old chap, and your collar and tie."
Frederick's ready obedience made Armstrong exclaim jovially:
"That's the right attitude, isn't it, Howe? No one would think to look at you, Graves, that you were so docile. You knew what you were saying when you said, 'what couldn't be cured must be endured,' and I say, 'all's fair in love and war,' so you stay here until after that grand supper."
Without answering, Frederick turned his eyes gloomily about his prison. The room was almost bare. In one corner was a bed, in another a cot with some blankets upon it. A long window ran nearly to the floor, minus a blind on one side while on the other a green shutter hung by one hinge, making a creaking noise as the wind swung it back and forth. Frederick reasoned that the window faced the street for he could hear crunching footsteps in the hard snow as pedestrians passed.
A wagon rolled squeakingly by and all was quiet.
In the night Frederick endeavored to plan his escape. He believed the house to be within the city limits, but during the long, dark drive he had lost all sense of direction. Through the flickering of the smoky lamp he saw Armstrong with a revolver in his hand, watching him intently. So the darkness passed and the daylight came in at the window, throwing long slant rays upon the dusty floor and lighting the faded paper on the wall.
CHAPTER XXII
Dominie Graves had a consultation with Dan Jordan over the disappearance of his son, and then climbed the University hill to Professor Young's office.