“What’s the matter—sick?” inquired Joe, in a whisper of Tom and Phil. They shook their heads, and motioned to the twins not to make further inquiries.
“What’s the game?” asked Tom. “We’ll come.”
“We’re going to get back at Pitchfork,” went on Jerry. “Come along and you’ll see. I’ll just explain, though, that he has quietly been ‘tipped off’ to the effect that another smoker is in progress, and if he does as we expect him to, he’ll try to raid the room.”
“And if he does?”
“Well, he won’t find what he expects to. Come on, and keep quiet. What’s the matter with Sid, anyhow?” for by this time the four were out in the corridor, leaving the moody one in the room.
“Hanged if we know,” replied Phil, “except that there’s a girl mixed up in it.” He refrained from saying anything about the accusation, thinking that would be noised about soon enough.
“Oh, if it’s only a girl he’ll soon be over it,” declared Joe with a professional air.
“Of course,” echoed his brother. “Come on.”
Phil and Tom soon found themselves in the midst of a number of choice spirits, who moved silently about the lower end of the corridor, near a room that was sometimes used for student meetings, and where, more than once, it was whispered, smokers had been held, in violation of the rules. The reason for the selection of this apartment was that it had an open fireplace, which carried off the fumes of the tobacco.