The stairway ended at a closed door and the procession halted while Joe shot back a heavy iron bolt and drew the portal outward. Then he stepped politely aside and the visitor entered a small apartment some eight feet square. It was quite bare and lighted by four tiny panes set one in each wall and just under the ceiling. Harmon’s gaze went questing for the stairs or ladder by which he was to reach the cupola, but there was nothing of that sort in sight. Indeed, there was no egress save by the door through which he had entered! He was on the point of calling polite attention to the fact when a sound behind him brought him quickly about. The sound had been made by the door as it closed, and while he stared, open-mouthed, a second sound reached him, and this time it was made by the bolt sliding harshly into place! CHAPTER III HELD BY THE ENEMY A long moment of deep silence followed. Harmon stared bewilderedly at the closed door. Of course, it was some sort of a silly joke, but it seemed so peculiarly at variance with all that had gone before that he couldn’t understand. Wondering, he waited for the door to reopen. Instead, however, came the voice of Joe Myers, subdued by the intervening portal but recognizable and distinct. “Harmon, can you hear me?” “Yes!” “That’s good. Now listen. It’s too late to make that train, old man, and there isn’t another until about nine o’clock. That would get you to Lakeville pretty late and faculty wouldn’t like it, I guess. What’s the use of starting the term with a black eye, eh? No sense in getting in wrong right at the start, is there? It’s a sort of a handicap to a fellow--” “There’s plenty of time to get the train if you’ll open that door,” replied Harmon impatiently. “What’s the big idea, anyway? If it’s a joke it’s a mighty poor one, Myers!” “It isn’t a joke,” came the answer. “You see, it’s like this. We hate to see a nice, decent chap like you spoiling his whole--er--his whole future career by making a mistake, Harmon. And you will make a mistake if you go to Kenly. Why, you say yourself that you’re not certain of making the team over there! What sort of a school is it, I ask you, where a fellow of your--your caliber has to get out and dig for a place on the eleven? Now, here you’re sure of it. All you’ll have to do will be just put your name down at the office. Of course we don’t know what arrangement Kenly has agreed to make, and maybe we can’t promise all they have. You see, faculty here’s sort of--sort of strait-laced. But I’ll promise you this much, anyhow, Harmon: Your first quarter won’t cost you a cent. We’ll see to that. All you need is to--” “I haven’t the slightest idea what you’re talking about!” protested the prisoner. “Open that door and let me out, or--or--”