“Does he usually leave his things around like that?” asked the proctor.
“I’m afraid he does. He’s an untidy beggar. You are, aren’t you, Hugh?”
“Perfectly rotten,” replied Hugh cheerfully. “Still, you know, they’re awfully easy to find in case of—er—fire or anything.”
Cathcart smiled wanly. Then he shook his head. “I’m sorry, Ordway,” he said, “but I’ll have to report you. Good night, fellows.”
“But, I say——” began Hugh.
“Look here, Cathcart, have a heart,” pleaded Bert. “You can’t prove anything against him. Why, look at him! You say someone came in here a minute ago. Now you know very well Ordway couldn’t undress in that time!”
“I don’t think I said he entered a minute ago, Bert. However, if Ordway cares to get out of bed and show me that he has his pajamas on——” He viewed Hugh inquiringly.
“Pajamas,” said Hugh indignantly. “Why, I say, I never wear ’em, you know. Beastly uncomfortable things, pajamas.”
“Indeed? May I look in here?” Cathcart opened the closet door. On a hook inside hung a pair of white pajamas with broad blue stripes. “Yours, I think, Ordway?”
Hugh nodded. “Right-o, Cathcart,” he said. “You win. What’s the penalty?”