“Turn your light on, please.” Maynard pushed past Joe into the room. The radiance showed the apparently sleeping form of Hal, a litter of hurriedly discarded garments about his bed and Joe but partly undressed. Maynard viewed the motionless form beneath the covers perplexedly. Then: “Which of you came in by the window just now?” he demanded. “By the window!” echoed Joe incredulously. “What is it, a joke?” “Now stop, Kenton!” Maynard raised a hand. He was tall and thin and bespectacled, and had a way of holding his head slightly forward from his shoulders as he talked, perhaps because the glasses did not quite overcome his nearsightedness. “Don’t trouble to lie. I know what I’m talking about, for I watched from the lavatory window and saw one of you climb in there. And I’m pretty certain which one it was.” He turned toward the form huddled under the covers. “I’m sorry,” he went on, “but I’ll have to report you. I can’t understand your doing a crazy thing like this, though.” His tone was indignant. “You must have known what it meant to be caught. If you didn’t care on your own account you ought to have realized what it would mean to the team, to the school. Hang it, it isn’t fair to risk defeat just for the sake of some piffling escapade in the village!” The form under the bed-clothes stirred, an arm was thrust forth and Hal groaned sleepily. Then, as though disturbed by the sound or the light, he thrust the clothes down and blinked protestingly. It was a good piece of acting. Joe wondered whether Maynard was deceived by it. It was hard to tell. “Put out that light, Joe,” muttered Hal. Then, wakefully: “Hello, what’s the row?” Maynard viewed him doubtfully. “I think you heard what I said,” he observed. “He says he saw some one climb in our window a while ago.” Joe nodded smilingly at the proctor. Hal turned and looked at the window, blinking and rubbing his eyes. Then: “Wh-what for?” he asked stupidly. “I don’t think he said,” replied Joe gravely. “You didn’t say, did you, Maynard?” “I’ve had my say.” The proctor turned toward the door. “I’m sorry, fellows.” “Just a minute!” said Joe. “Do you still think you saw――what you said, Maynard?” “Naturally.” “And you feel that it’s――it’s up to you to spoil Saturday’s game?” “It’s up to me to report to faculty. You should have thought of the game before.” “It seems sort of tough,” muttered Joe. Maynard flashed a puzzled look at him. Hal sat up impulsively. “Oh, well,” he began, “I suppose――” “Never mind,” interrupted Joe, shrugging. “I can stand it, I guess.” “You mean――it was you?” demanded Maynard, staring hard. Joe shrugged again. “I thought you said you knew,” he scoffed. “I think I do,” replied Maynard meaningly, with a quick side glance at Hal’s troubled face. “But I can’t prove I’m right, I suppose. Seems to me it would be the decent thing for one of you to own up, though.”