"That's what old Sid is up to!" decided Tom. "He must be going daffy. He's sure to be caught, for Simond has a room up there, and he's a light sleeper." Simond being one of the new teachers, who had been assigned to this dormitory as a sort of moral-policeman. He was, however, a well-liked instructor.
"I wonder how it would be for me to tip Sid off not to do it?" thought Tom. "If he does jingle the chimes they'll say we all had a hand in it, and it will be bad for the bunch. I guess I'll call him off. No use going too far for a joke."
Tom was about to sprint forward, when, to his surprise, the figure turned and entered one of the student's rooms, the door opening noiselessly and closing again as silently.
"Well, what do you know about that?" asked Tom of himself. "Who rooms there, I wonder? And what is Sid going in there for? Can it be that he isn't up to dashing off a fervid love poem himself, and has to get someone else, under the cover of night, to do it for him?"
Tom came to a halt, some distance from the door that had opened and closed, and remained gazing down the corridor. He seldom came up here, and did not know which students occupied the different rooms. And, as the corridor was long, and as Tom was looking down it on an angle, he could not be exactly sure which door had
