"See here, now," he said, "you really must tell us all you know about this thing. You really must." He was very earnest about it. They were both uneasy, it was easy to see. "I'll tell you nothing," I said. "You will have to wait until tonight, and then----" "Threatening us, are you?" "No. I'm kind enough to warn you, that's all. I don't want you to go to the meeting unprepared." "Oh, so it has to do with my remarks to the freshmen candidates, has it?" "And mine?" "I've given you all the warning that fair play demands," I said. "Look to your consciences for means of defense." And, flinging a towel over my shoulder, I darted away for my morning shower, leaving them in possession of the room. When I came back, a few minutes later, it was apparently empty, and I thought them gone. I was almost dressed when I went into the clothes closet to select a tie from the rack I had there. There was a sudden rustle and movement of the clothes at the back of the dark little place. Two men closed in on me, dragged me into the depths of the closet. I reached out blindly, furiously. My fists hit only against the rows of my own clothes hanging there. A couple of coat-hangers clattered down. I stumbled and fell over my satchel. Then the door slammed shut. As I lay there, stunned, in the darkness, I heard the key turning in the lock, from the outside. They had sealed me in. I had no doubts but they had been Sayer and Braley. Though I had never imagined they would go as far as this--and the fools! what did they think they could accomplish by locking me up for the day? It was easy enough to breathe in the tiny, black square. I was in no danger. I groped my way to the suitcase and sat down on it for a few minutes. My head pained me terrifically. My forehead was hot. I put my hand up to it and felt a fast-swelling bruise. My fingers grew wet with something warm. It wasn't just perspiration.... I knew that--and that, in the struggle, I must have hit my head against one of the hooks. Or had one of them hit me in the dark with some sharp thing that he held in his hands? I stood up again unsteadily, found the door handle--yes, it was locked. I was in my stocking feet; I could not kick through a panel. I reached along the wall, found a hook. I flung the clothes from it, gave it both my hands and all my strength in a sudden pull. It gave way with a spurting of loosened plaster. It was a large, heavy hook. It made a good ram. I crashed upon the two upper panels with it. One of them split at length--and when I rammed the ugly iron thing against it again, it broke into splinters and my arm went through it. Light came through dimly--and, three minutes later, I had knocked out the whole panel, climbed through and staggered out into the room. The mirror showed me a bad cut over my right eye. I staunched the flow of blood as best I could. It was so humorous an incident--like one of the famous adventures of Frank Merriwell!