Stoddard was greatly disturbed, and gazed about the topsy-turvy library with growing indignation.
We drew together for a council of war. Here was an opportunity to enlist a new recruit on my side. I already felt stronger by reason of Larry’s accession; as to Bates, my mind was still numb and bewildered.
“Larry, there’s no reason why we shouldn’t join forces with Mr. Stoddard, as he seems to be affected by this struggle. We owe it to him and the school to put him on guard, particularly since we know that Ferguson’s with the enemy.”
“Yes, certainly,” said Larry.
He always liked or disliked new people unequivocally, and I was glad to see that he surveyed the big clergyman with approval.
“I’ll begin at the beginning,” I said, “and tell you the whole story.”
He listened quietly to the end while I told him of my experience with Morgan, of the tunnel into the chapel crypt, and finally of the affair in the night and our interview with Bates.
“I feel like rubbing my eyes and accusing you of reading penny-horrors,” he said. “That doesn’t sound like the twentieth century in Indiana.”
“But Ferguson,—you’d better have a care in his direction. Sister Theresa—”
“Bless your heart! Ferguson’s gone—without notice. He got his traps and skipped without saying a word to any one.”