Of course, his thoughts continued as he crawled into bed without disturbing the rhythmic breathing of his roommate, of course Mr. Collins might lecture him about leaving the building after lock-up, but what was a lecture in view of his triumph? Eventually Kendall fell asleep to dream of the night’s events in weird parody, little recking of the mischievous possibilities of what is known as Circumstantial Evidence!
[CHAPTER VII]
CIRCUMSTANTIAL EVIDENCE
Kendall awoke the next morning possessed by a pleasant feeling of well-being for which he could not, during the first few moments, account. Then recollection of the events of the preceding night came and he smiled broadly and mentally patted himself on the back. He jumped out of bed and dressed himself briskly, thinking that the world was a very good place to be in. Harold, who was usually out of sorts in the early morning, was visibly annoyed at Kendall’s high spirits.
“Cut out that whistling, will you?” he begged between yawns. “You give me a headache, you do; always whistling; making a noise—” The words died away in a growl as he patted the cold sponge gingerly over his face. Kendall laughed.
“I guess you don’t like music,” he said.
“Music!” exclaimed the other with awful irony.
“Yes, that’s what the little birdies do in the morning, whistle. I’m playing I’m a little birdie.”
“You’re playing the silly fool,” growled Harold. “Whistling isn’t music. Besides, there isn’t any tune to what you whistle!”