Salter looked discouraged. “I’m not good at stiff fronts. He’d know it was a bluff, and talk me out of it before I’d been there two minutes. When it comes to talking, I’m no match for the fellow at all.” “I’ll go with you,” cried Wolcott, springing up. “You’ve got to make a stand, or he’ll run over you completely. Spunk up and take your medicine; it’s the only way.” Marchmont was at home, and obviously puzzled as the pair filed into his room, the shrinking Salter pushed forward by the more aggressive Lindsay. As Salter never had ventured to visit his classmate of the second story, while Lindsay until recently had been a frequent visitor, Marchmont naturally looked to the latter for an explanation of the call. “I’m here only as a friend of Salter’s,” said Wolcott, significantly. “He has something to say to you.” “I just wanted to say that I was called up to-day to explain how some one came through my window at half-past twelve last night; and it seems to me high time for the closet business to stop.” Salter got through with this very well. “But you got off easily enough, didn’t you? Of course the man who thought he saw you was mistaken.” Marchmont’s tones were smooth and persuasive. Salter rallied his courage and went blindly forward. “It doesn’t make any difference how I got off. The thing must end or I’ll not be responsible for the consequences.” Marchmont laughed. “There won’t be any consequences. You aren’t mean enough to squeal.” “I’ve advised him to give you warning, and when you go through again, lock you out,” said Wolcott, coming to the rescue. “He’s put up with it long enough.” Marchmont turned coldly: “So you’re butting in again, are you? I don’t see that this concerns you in the slightest.” “As Salter’s backer in case he needs my help it may concern me a good deal,” retorted Wolcott. “Shall we go now?” Salter eagerly assented, and the pair retired with the honors of battle. The next day Salter again appeared to consult his adviser. “I’ve been thinking a lot about that hole. It ought to be closed up. He may keep out for a time, but I never shall feel safe as long as it’s there.” “Get a carpenter to close it up,” Wolcott answered promptly. “It would be all over town in a day. I’d like to do it on the quiet.” “Can’t you do it yourself?” asked Wolcott. “I don’t know a thing about tools,” lamented Salter. “Neither do I,” confessed Lindsay in turn. “I’ll tell you who can help us,” he added after a pause, as the incident of the trip to Eastham suddenly occurred to him. “Laughlin! He’s a corker with tools—almost as good as a carpenter.” “Will you ask him?” suggested Salter, dubiously. “Certainly! I’ll send him round to you.” Laughlin presented himself that very afternoon at Salter’s room, and made his examination. “It’ll be dead easy,” he said in a reassuring tone. “Must you go into Marchmont’s room in order to fix it?” Salter asked uneasily.