"In here, sir," requested the hospital orderly, holding open the door. After Danvers had gone the other young men held their breath for a few moments—all except Geroldstone, who was still leisurely disrobing.
Back came Danvers after a few moments. Every candidate in the room looked at him inquiringly.
"Yes, gentlemen; I'm very happy to say that I passed," nodded Danvers, as he sprang across the room and began to don his clothes once more.
"Mr. Geroldstone!" called the orderly, and the big candidate went in.
An anxious twenty minutes passed—anxious alike for Geroldstone and for those who still dangled on tenterhooks in the outer room.
At last the candidate under fire came out, a sickly grin on his face.
Though the others looked at him curiously, not a word did
Geroldstone offer.
"The big fellow has failed; I'll bet," muttered Greg Holmes. "I'm sorry for him, poor fellow."
Still another candidate was now undergoing the ordeal inside.
When he came out, nodding contentedly, the summons sounded:
"Mr. Prescott!"
"Brace up, Dick! You're all right," whispered Greg, with an affectionate pat on the shoulder as young Prescott rose, and, wrapping the blanket nervously around him, went through the doorway.