to him, "you must go home. Do you feel able to go home alone, dearie? Everything that is necessary here shall be done."
She gathered herself together, choked and nodded. Reiland led her to the door, and she hurried away, sobbing.
While Trant was at the telephone Dr. Reiland swept the fragments of glass across the sill, and closed the door and windows.
Already feet were sounding in the corridors; and the rooms about were fast filling before Trant made out the president's thin figure bending against the wind as he hurried across the campus.
Dr. Joslyn's swift glance as Trant opened the door to him—a glance which, in spite of the student pallor of his high-boned face, marked the man of action—considered and comprehended all.
"So it has come to this," he said, sadly. "But—who laid Lawrie there?" he asked sharply after an instant.
"He laid himself there," Reiland softly replied. "It was there we found him."
Trant put his finger on a scratch on the wall paper made by the sharp corner of the davenport lounge; the corner was still white with plaster. Plainly, the lounge had been violently pushed out of its position, scratching the paper.
Dr. Joslyn's eyes passed on about the room, passed by Reiland's appeal, met Trant's direct look and followed it to the smaller desk beside the dead treasurer's. He opened the door to his own office.
"When Mr. Harrison comes," he commanded,
