e," said Steve sarcastically, "and the fellow behind him is a
famous second-story burglar and the man with the flannel trousers on,
who looks like a teacher, is a popular murderer. He escaped from Sing
Sing this morning. And the little man with the grey moustache----"

"That's all right," replied Tom earnestly, "but you'll find I'm right.
It--it was he, I tell you! There couldn't be two people as much alike!"

"You'd better follow him then," laughed Steve, "and ask him for my
suit-case. Tell him I want my pajamas, will you?"

But Tom refused to treat the matter so lightly. He was evidently quite
convinced that he was really on the trail of the thief, and all Steve's
ridicule failed to move him from that conviction. He was too anxious to
begin the search for the "confidence-man" to do justice to the rest of
his supper, and when, at last, they were once more outside the building
he gazed up and down the Row eagerly and was disappointed to find that
neither his quarry nor anyone else was visible in the half-darkness. As
they passed Torrence Hall, however, an open window on the first floor
sent a flood of light across the walk, and Tom, crossing the narrow
strip of turf that divided building from pavement, raised himself on his
tiptoes and looked into the room. The next instant a face appeared with
disconcerting suddenness within a foot of his own and the occupant of
the room, who had been reclining on the window-seat, enquiring abruptly:

"Well, fresh, what do you want?"

"N-Nothing, thanks," stammered Tom, withdrawing quickly.

"Keep your head out of my window then," was the indignant response, "or
I'll come out there and teach you manners!"

Tom hurried away into the friendly darkness and joined Steve, who was
chuckling audibly.

"Did you find him, Tom?"

"No." And then, as Steve continued to be amused, Tom said with spirit;
"I should think you'd be enough interested to help a fellow instead of
giggling like a silly goat!"

"Oh, I'm not a Sherlock Holmes," replied Steve airily. "Detecting isn't
in my line."

"I should think you'd want to get your bag back, though. I tell you that
was really the fellow, Steve. Don't you believe me?"

"Oh, yes!"

"You don't, though," said Tom bitterly. "All right, then. You find your
own bag. I'm through."

"Oh, don't say that!" begged Steve. "You were doing so nicely. Look,
there's a lighted window up there, Tom. If you get a ladder now----"

"Aw, cut it!" growled Tom.