entrance, and when his ring
was answered by the appearance of an attendant, requested him to deliver
a letter that he handed him to "Mr. Tom Henderson."

A few moments later Tom was interrupted in his studies by a knock on the
door of his room, and on opening it was handed an unstamped envelope.
Somewhat surprised, he drew forth a yellow slip of paper that proved to
be a telegraph blank. Tom read the words scrawled across it, in
careless, hasty writing.

"Dear Tom," the message read, "am in town just for one evening, and want
you to drop in and see me. I would visit you if possible, but have some
friends with me, and so cannot. Just to make sure of your coming I'm
sending my car for you. Please don't disappoint me." The letter was
signed "Dave."

"Why," thought Tom, "that must be Dave Rutgers. I should say I would go
to see him. I haven't laid eyes on the old sinner since I came to
college."

Crumpling the yellow slip into a ball, he flung it into a corner of the
room and hastily donned his coat and hat. As he was about to leave the
room he hesitated a moment, and started back. But after a second he
started out again, and slammed the door after him. "I'll be back in a
couple of hours," he thought. "Bert and Dick probably won't return much
before that, so there's no use writing a note telling them where I've
gone." With this thought he dismissed the matter from his mind, and
hurried down to the waiting auto. He stepped in, the chauffeur slammed
the door, and the big machine glided noiselessly away, at a rapid gait.

About ten o'clock that evening Bert and Dick returned, and on their way
to their room pounded on Tom's door. They received no reply, so
concluded that he must be asleep, and passed on.

But when they stopped at his room the next morning, as was their
invariable custom, and received no answer to repeated summons, they
began to feel uneasy.

"Perhaps he's stolen a march on us and gone down early," suggested Dick.

"Possible," answered Bert, "but more likely he's just 'playing possum.'"
As he spoke he seized the knob to rattle the door, and the door swung
open!

"Why, he's not in here," exclaimed Bert, as he gazed about the room;
"and what's more," he continued excitedly, "he hasn't been here all
night, either. It's easy to see that the bed hasn't been slept in."

"That mighty queer," said Dick uneasily. "Where do you suppose he can
have gone?"

"I haven't the slightest idea, I'm sure," said Bert.