windows behind him had ceased to warm the back of his neck.
He closed the book at last, stacked it with the others and returned the entire pile to the desk. "I’ll call for you at eight-thirty, Sally,” he said.
Sally Sherwin scowled. "You know what happened the last time we went stepping. You kept me out so late I lost my date privileges for two weeks.”
"I’m sorry about that Sally,” said Cummings, contritely. "It won’t happen again.”
"I’ll say it won’t. You’ve seen to it that I can’t walk out of the dorm with you like a decent girl. I have to sneak out by the window.”
"It’s more romantic that way,” said Cummings. "I’ll be under your window at eight-thirty sharp.”
Sally sighed. "All right, heart-throb. But if it rains the date is off.”
"If it rains? Why should it rain? There wasn’t a cloud in the sky when I—”
His speech jelled. The dismalness which had crept over the library could mean only one thing. During his re¬ searches the sun had ceased to bathe the campus in a warm and mellow glow!
TURNING from the desk he hurried
along the deserted corridors of the
library building, and out onto the campus.
The campus was bathed in an ominous
negation of light which struck a chill to
his heart.
The ivy-draped quadrangle of dormitories and lecture halls loomed eerily through the murk, their Gothic outlines reminding him of something out of Sir Walter Scott.
He stood before the library building staring in amazement at a running figure. The figure had emerged from the Hall of Pharmacy, and was running straight toward him. A slim, pale girl running. He recognized her instantly despite the darkness.
"Nancy!” he exclaimed, and strode forward to meet her.
She swayed when she saw him and tottered forward until she was in his arms.
"Nancy, what is it?”
Sobbingly she clung to him, her whole body trembling.
"It’s Slats,” she moaned. "They’ve taken him into the pharmacy building. Oh, it’s horrible, Empty. His throat is torn, mangled. He’s drenched with blood. He’s dying, Empty—there’s nothing they can do for him.”
Cummings turned deathly pale. He stared at her aghast, cold perspiration breaking out all over him. "When—when did this happen, Nancy?”
"They found him in Norwood Lane about ten minutes ago. You know how dark it is there, even when the sun is shining.”
Cummings knew. Norwood Lane ran between the Hall of Pharmacy and the Hospital Unit. It was simply a narrow alleyway between the two buildings, a sort of lover’s lane where students petted in shadows on their way to the lecture rooms. Brick-walled and ivy-festooned, it offered a seclusion for furtive embraces at high noon and for more leisurely love-making after dark.
"You mean—you were there with him, Nancy?”
Nancy Summers shook her head. "I was coming out of Doc Whitehead’s classroom when they brought him into the hall. I was so sickened I—I just ran, Empty.
"I know it was cowardly, Empty, but I couldn’t help it. My stomach twisted and I had to get out fast.”
Cummings nodded. "I understand, Nancy. It was perfectly natural. We knew Slats, loved him. He was a great little guy. He had his faults, but there’ll never be another Slats.”
"I just ran, Empty. I wasn’t looking
