"Oh, what a scream!" cried Will Scarlet. "I believe I've cracked a rib with laughing. They'll never forget this as long as they live!"
"I'm not so sure that we haven't done them rather a good turn than a bad one," said Robin. "They will have to wash themselves to-day, if never before!"
CHAPTER VIII
The Burglary
A storm of extreme violence swept across Foxenby one night. It was like a gigantic oratorio of wind-music, with the sea's roar as an accompaniment.
The dormitories faced west, and therefore missed the worst of the gale, though some of the boys lost sleep through it. Dick and Roger were among the sufferers from insomnia, and got up before daybreak by mutual consent, meaning to make themselves a cup of coffee in their study.
"Jove, listen to the windows rattling!" cried Dick. "And how blinking draughty it is! Why, there's snow on the table!"
"No wonder," Roger said. "Here's a pane of glass blown clean out, just as if it had been cut by a glazier's diamond. We shall have to do the 'Mary Ann' business this morning. Bring the mop, Dick, old son."
"Plus a sheet of brown paper as a dummy window-pane, what? I say, Roger, flash your electric torch into this corner—it's as dark as Erebus. Things seem topsy-turvy, too. I've cut my hand against a broken teacup already."
Roger's torch pierced the gloom, and the chaos it disclosed brought a cry of dismay from Dick.