No one else said anything. The storm grew fiercer and fiercer. Boys in their dormitories sit up in bed and listened to the roar of the wind as it howled round the house. And that silent party in the Doctor's study never once thought of seeking rest. Midnight came; but no Oliver, no Loman--and the storm as furious as ever. Presently there came a soft knock at the door, which made every one start suddenly as the door opened. It was Stephen in his night-shirt. He, like every one else, had been awakened by the storm. Oliver was the monitor of his dormitory; and now for the first time the boy missed his elder brother. Where was Oliver? he asked. No one could say. He had been out all day, and no one had seen him since he got back. This was enough for Stephen. With bounding heart and quivering lips he sprang from his bed and hurried down stairs. There was a light in the Doctor's study; and there he went. The boy's alarm and terror on hearing that his brother had not returned was piteous to see. He begged to be allowed to go and look for him, and only the Doctor's authoritative command could put him from this purpose. But nothing would induce him to return to bed; so Wraysford fetched him an ulster to keep out the cold. The night wore on, by inches; and the storm raged outside with unabated wildness. More than once the impulse had seized Wraysford to sally out at all risks and look for his friend. But what _could_ one do in a night like this, with a blinding sleet full in one's face, and a wind which mocked all attempts at progress or shouting! No, there was nothing for it but to sit patiently and await daylight. One, two, three o'clock came, and still nothing but the storm. Stephen crouched closer up beside Wraysford, and the elder boy, as he put his arm round the younger, could feel how his chest heaved, and how his teeth chattered. "You're cold, old boy," said he, kindly. "No, I'm not, Wray," said the boy, with a gulp; "but don't talk, Wray, I--" The next instant Stephen, with a sudden cry, had bounded to his feet and rushed to the window. "Some one called!" he cried. CHAPTER THIRTY SEVEN. FOUND! The little company of watchers sprang to their feet with one accord and listened, as Stephen wildly flung up the window. The storm burst into the room as he did so, with all its vehemence, drenching those who stood near, and deafening every one with its roar. But no other sound could be heard. Stephen, heedless of the weather, stood motionless with his head out of the window, listening. Alas! it must have been a false hope after all--a brother's fancy. "A mistake, I fear," said Dr Senior. "Greenfield, I think you had better close the window. It will be daylight in--" He had not time to finish his sentence, for with a sudden exclamation and a shout of, "There it is again; come, Wray!" the boy had leapt from the low window, half clad as he was, into the garden.