"Ah!" As though finding comfort in this last statement, The Roman raised his head and said slowly: "Dear me! I see, I see now. Quite a relief. It is evident from your recital, John, that at least there was no concerted effort to destroy the property of the school. I withdraw the term outrage, in so far as it may suggest outrages of pillage or anarchy. As to the continued usefulness of what you so felicitously term the Sleep Prolonger, that will have to be a subject of consultation with the Doctor, but—but, as your friend, I should advise you, for the present, not to risk any further capital in the venture. Don't do it, John, don't do it."
"Tyrant!" said Stover to himself. Aloud he asked: "Is that all, sir?"
"One moment—one moment, John. Are you contemplating any further inventions?"
"Why, no, sir."
"On your honor, John?"
"Why, yes, sir."
"Good—very good. You may go now."
At noon, by virtue of an extraordinary order from headquarters, all alarm clocks were confiscated and ordered to be surrendered.
"It's all the Old Roman," said Stover doggedly. "He knew it was my invention. He's got it in for me, I tell you."
"Anyhow," said Finnegan, "since Doc planted a few Prolongers in the Dickinson and the Woodhull we ought to be able to stack up a few nice, round plunks."