"None at all, Mr. Whipple."
"Then, may I suggest that you do so?"
Kenneth dove into one pocket and brought out a handkerchief and a small piece of pencil, into the other and—
"Ah!" said Mr. Whipple triumphantly.
In Kenneth's hand lay a piece of folded paper, a skate strap and—a box of cigarettes! He stared at the latter bewilderedly for a moment. Then he glanced sharply at Grafton. That youth regarded him commiseratingly and slowly shook his head.
"I'll take those, if you please," said Mr. Whipple. Kenneth handed them over.
"I never saw them before," he said simply.
"Oh, of course not," jeered the instructor. "And the room rank with cigarette smoke! That's a pretty tall story, I think, Garwood. You told me once that I would never catch you smoking cigarettes. You see you were a trifle mistaken. You may go to your room."
"I wasn't smoking cigarettes," protested Kenneth. "I never saw that box before in my life. If Hyde won't tell, I will. I came up here and found him—"
He stopped. What was the use? Telling on another fellow was mean work, and, besides, Mr. Whipple wouldn't believe him. He had no proof to offer and all the evidence was against him. He turned to the door. On the threshold he looked back at Grafton.