“It can not be! It can not be! Impossible! Impossible!" he muttered, as he strode up and down. "Andrew is mean in many things, but not a common felon! It can not, can not be true,” and he was hoping against hope for his family's sake.
Henning was never so excited in his life. For a long time he walked up and down on the cocoa-matting. His blanket trailing behind him, often caught the leaden binding of one of the strips of matting. This would be raised about a foot and fall with a bang; his excitement prevented him from noticing the noise he was making.
Not so the old infirmarian, whose room was at the end of the corridor. Peering out, he at first thought he saw a ghost. But ghosts do not trip on cocoa-matting. He followed the disturber of his repose. Henning, still under pressure of strong excitement, walked the whole length of the corridor. He turned suddenly to encounter the angry infirmarian.
“Oh, it's Henning! What are you doing at this
unearthly hour of the night, disturbing my sleep?" said the old man in an unusually sharp tone for him, for he was generally mild and kindly. The official at first thought it was an ordinary case of somnambulism, but he soon found Henning to be very wide-awake.
“I've found it—the secret. I've got it,” exclaimed Roy in excitement.
“I guess you have—bad,” said the old man with grim humor. “Well, if you boys will fill yourselves up with rich plum-pudding and cake in the daytime, you must expect to suffer at night. There now, get back into bed, and don't disturb the whole house with your nonsense.”
“Oh, if I were only sure, I would settle the whole thing to-morrow,” muttered Roy. It is doubtful if, in his excited condition, he had seen the infirmarian at all.
“I'll settle you in the morning if you don't get back to bed at once. Get now.”
But Roy did not move. He had lapsed into a thoughtful mood. He stood, with his chin on his hand, motionless.