“Now don’t say a word about this to Sid,” cautioned Ruth.
“Of course not,” growled Phil.
“Nor Tom Parsons, either.”
Phil grunted, but that night he told Tom everything, and the scene further added, in the mind of the pitcher, to the mystery that was enveloping Sid.
“Maybe the worst of it’s over,” suggested Tom, as they were discussing the matter. “Sid hasn’t been out late nights for two weeks now, and he’s studying hard. He’s playing the game, too. We’ll beat Fairview the next time we tackle ’em, and wipe up Boxer Hall, likewise.”
But alas for Tom’s hopes. Two nights later, as the three chums were studying in their room, Wallops brought a note for Sid, who showed much perturbation, and hastily went out, saying nothing to his chums.
“There he goes again,” remarked Tom helplessly, as the door closed on Sid.
“Um,” grunted Phil. He had nothing to say.
Phil and Tom, who were taking up some advanced work in mathematics, spent two evenings a week “boning” with Mellville, a senior, and this was one of the occasions when they went to his room. They had permission to be up beyond the usual hour, and it was rather late when they returned to their own apartment. Mellville had his rooms in a new fraternity house, not far from Booker Memorial Chapel, and to get to their own room, which was in the west dormitory, Phil and Tom had to cross the campus, and go in the rear of the “prof house,” as the building was called where Dr. Churchill and the faculty had their living quarters. As the two chums were walking along, they became aware of a figure coming up the campus from another direction—from where the main entrance gates of the college loomed up dimly in the darkness.