As he vaulted the fence into School Street, however, anger gave place to curiosity. “Wonder,” he muttered, “how they found it out. I’ll bet that sneaking secretary fellow told someone. He’s the only one that knew. I wouldn’t have told him only he said I had to. He——”
He stopped abruptly on the steps of Morris House.
“That’s it!” he said to himself. “I’ll just bet anything that’s it! Huh!”
He took the stairs two steps at a time, and swung open the door of his room. Alvin Standart was wreathed over an armchair by the table, reading. As he looked up at Monty he smirked.
“Hello, Abijah!” he said.
Monty strode past him to his chiffonier in silence. Then, as what he sought was not in sight: “Where’s that School Catalogue?” he demanded.
Alvin started to reply, caught another view of his roommate’s countenance, and forebore. Instead he lifted the blue-covered pamphlet from the table, and held it forth. Monty grabbed it, and leaned under the light. “Catalogue of Grafton School,” he read. “Calendar,” “Trustees,” “Faculty,” “Students.” Here it was! “Senior Class,” “Upper Middle Class,” “Lower Middle Class”: H’m! “Ainslee, Ainsworth—” Where were the C’s? “Camp, Carpenter, Chandler, Christian, Clapp, Cook, Crail——”
There it stood in all its enormity!
Crail, Abijah Montfort. Terre Haute, Ind. M., F.
Monty stared at it a minute. Then he closed the pamphlet gently, and laid it aside. Alvin was regarding him with a doubtful grin. Monty faced him sternly.