Kendall thought Harold would never get to sleep that night. Hoping that his roommate would follow the example, Kendall piled into bed at half-past nine, but Harold, who usually yawned all through study hour and got between the sheets as soon as possible afterwards, to-night displayed a most unusual and annoying wakefulness. Even after he was in bed and the light was out he wanted to talk, and only stopped when Kendall simulated slumber by making hideous noises in his throat. Had Harold been of an observant nature he would have remarked on the sudden development of this accomplishment, for Kendall had never been known to snore until to-night. It was long after ten o’clock when regular breathing from across the room told Kendall that his roommate was asleep. He waited five minutes more to make certain and then arose softly, donned trousers and jacket over his nightgown――Kendall had not yet become so stylish as to affect pajamas――and thrust his bare feet into his canvas “sneakers.” Making certain that the electric torch was in his pocket, he opened the room door noiselessly and peeked out. The dimly lighted hall was empty. Leaving his door slightly ajar, he scuttled to the stairway and stole down. Two of the faculty, Mr. Collins, the Assistant Principal, and Mr. Frye, lived on the lower floor and Kendall had no desire to encounter them. Mr. Collins’s transom, however, was dark, and although a light showed in Mr. Frye’s study, it was further down the corridor and well out of sound. As he expected, the big outer door was locked. But the key was on the inside and it turned without a squeak. The door was not so quiet, but it is doubtful if it made nearly so much noise as Kendall thought. He crept through with his heart in his throat, feeling like a burglar leaving the scene of his depredations. In another moment he was swallowed in the darkness.