“Blamed if I know. Wonder if he got away?”
“Let’s search.”
Clif crouched back in the darkness, and prepared to give a good account of himself. He knew he was no match for the six, third class cadets, but he trusted to receive reinforcements from his chums.
Then he felt assured the enemy would not resort to anything calculated to create confusion and alarm. Such a course would only result in their own undoing.
“Trolley and Toggles and the rest would come down here in a jiffy if they knew where I was,” he muttered. “As it is, I’ll have to go to them.”
Clif felt that he could escape by making a bold dash, but he wished to leave without revealing his identity to the hazers.
He had a scheme of his own, the very thought of which made him chuckle.
“I wonder if all these doors are locked,” he mused, slipping back away from the searchers. They were perilously near and he had little time to spare.
Directly opposite him was a door leading into the medical storeroom. It was supposed to be locked, but Clif, in desperation, felt for the padlock.
It was unsnapped.