“Did they turn to the right or to the left? Or did they go upstairs?”
“I can’t tell you, sir. They—they came in ahead of me.”
“That will do, my boy. Go on to your room. You’ll hear more of this—this pleasant little escapade, this gentlemanly trick—in the morning.”
“Don’t—don’t you believe me, sir?” asked Harry desperately.
Mr. Adams smiled sarcastically. “Oh, perfectly, Danforth, perfectly! You tell a most convincing story, I assure you. Dear me, yes, most convincing. Let us hope, Danforth, that you’ll be able to do as well before the Principal in the morning. But don’t try to embroider it any more, Danforth. It’s quite elaborate enough as it is.” The instructor smiled broadly but disagreeably. “I shall—ah—preserve this odoriferous memento of my pleasant experience, this slight token of your respect and regard, Danforth, as Exhibit A. I’ve no doubt your Principal will view it with interest. Good night!”
Mr. Adams’ door closed with dignity, but as it had shut upon a corner of the dressing-gown and had to be reopened, the effect was somewhat marred. Harry, smarting with the injustice of the instructor’s conviction, apprehensive of what would follow and generally discouraged, sought his room. The light was turned low and Tracey was sleeping audibly. After a moment of indecision, for he wanted very much to tell his story and get sympathy, Harry undressed as noiselessly as possible and tumbled into bed without arousing his chum. But sleep didn’t come easily that night. Disturbing thoughts of what might lie in store for him kept him wakeful, and when, long after eleven had struck, he fell into slumber, equally disturbing visions haunted his sleep.
V
“You haven’t much to go on,” said Tracey the next morning. “You don’t know whether the fellows stopped on this floor or went on to the third. And as for the brown sweater, why, there are at least a hundred in school. You might look for a sweater with a white tag on it, I suppose. I don’t understand the tag business. Sweaters don’t have tags on them except when you buy them, do they? Did it look like a new one?”