Gerald nodded and Dan and Arthur went out and made their way across to Oxford. They found Mr. Forisher, the secretary, at his desk and Dan made his request. The secretary laid his pen down and swung around in his swivel chair to the card catalogue behind him.
“Brewster must be getting very popular,” he remarked dryly. “This is the second time within an hour I’ve been asked for his address.” Dan and Arthur exchanged glances.
“Who asked before, sir?” Dan questioned. “Was it Hiltz?”
“Hiltz, yes. Well, the address is— Here, I’ll write it down for you.” He did so and Dan took it, thanked him and hurried out.
“When does the first mail go East, Arthur?” he asked.
“I don’t know, but I guess on the afternoon train. If you write that now and take it down to the station and post it on the train——”
“Just what I mean to do. No use going to the room; I’ll write it in the library. Come on.”
The library was deserted, save for two preparatory youngsters who were whispering and giggling together in a corner and an older boy who was seated at one of the broad tables writing. Arthur pressed Dan’s arm.
“There he is now,” he whispered. Hiltz hadn’t heard or seen them and they retreated quickly and noiselessly.
“He’s writing to Brewster this minute,” murmured Arthur, when they were back in the dim corridor. “You run over to my room and write the letter and I’ll stay here and see what Jake does with his. If he posts it in the box at the door you’ll have half a day on him, for they don’t collect from there until six to-night.”