The Roman thought a moment and, carefully selecting the experts, sent Beekstein, Gumbo Binks, the Red Dog and Poler Fox to the blackboards. Having thus removed the bird dogs, The Roman called up Fatty Harris.
Stover, struggling to maintain his seriousness, grudgingly admired the professional manner with which The Roman attacked the mystery, the more so as it showed the wisdom of his own planning; for, had the signals been left with either Beekstein or Gumbo, the plot would have been instantly exposed.
As it was, The Roman, to his delighted imagination, at each successful answer seemed to rise under an electric application.
Stover went out radiant, to receive the delighted congratulations of the Institute and the recognition of those who were not in the secret.
"We've got him going," he said, skipping over the campus arm in arm with the Tennessee Shad. "He's nervous as a witch! It's broken him all up. He won't sleep for a week."
"He'll spot it to-morrow," said the Tennessee Shad.
"I'll lay a bet on it."
The next day The Roman, at the beginning of the lesson, ordered all the books to the desk and fruitlessly examined them. Macnooder, as spokesman for the justly indignant class, at once expressed the pain felt at this evidence of suspicion and demanded an explanation. This highly strategic manœuver, which would have tripped up a younger master, received nothing but a grim smile from The Roman who waved them to their seats and called up P. Lentz.
"Gerund or gerundive?" he began directly, at the same time rising and scanning the front ranks.
"Why, gerund, sir," said P. Lentz instantly.