“Oh, it’s no matter! It’ll keep!” said Jim, indifferently.
“I got out of that pretty well!” he reflected complacently.
Perhaps Jim Smith would not have felt quite so complacent, if he had known that at the time he entered Hector’s room it was occupied, though he could not see the occupant. It so chanced that Ben Platt, one of Hector’s roommates, was in the closet, concealed from the view of anyone entering the room, yet so placed that he could see through the partially open door what wras passing in the room.
When he saw Jim Smith enter he was surprised, for he knew that that young man was not on visiting terms with the boy who had discomfited and humiliated him.
“What on earth can Jim want?” he asked himself.
He did not have long to wait for an answer though not a real one; but actions, as men have often heard, speak louder than words.
When he saw Jim steal up to Hector’s pants, and producing a wallet, hastily thrust it into one of the pockets, he could hardly believe the testimony of his eyes.
“Well!” he ejaculated, inwardly, “I would not have believed it if I hadn’t seen it. I knew Jim was a bully and a tyrant, but I didn’t think he was as contemptible as all that.”
The wallet he recognized at once, for he had more than once seen Socrates take it out of his pocket.
“It’s old Sock’s wallet!” he said to himself. “It’s clear that Jim has taken it, and means to have it found in Roscoe’s possession. That’s as mean a trick as I ever heard of.”