Dodge with start. He awoke with
a snort, then sat bolt upright, peering in the dark.

"Wh---who's there?" he demanded hoarsely.

"A committee on class honor, Mr. Dodge," replied Furlong, while
Anstey added, with ironic politeness:

"Don't be alahmed, suh. We do not believe you to be possessed,
suh, of any of the commodity of which we are in search."

"Brayton" asked Greg, "will you be good enough to slip into your
bathrobe and hang your blankets over the window? Then we can
have some light. That's one thing we're going to need," he added
significantly.

"Don't you do it, Bray," broke in Dodge stiffly. "As for you
fellows, the best thing you can all do is to go back to your cradles.
Bray and I want to sleep the night through. And you've no business
here, anyway."

"I'm afraid you've missed the point, suh?" replied Anstey with
bored patience. "That is exactly why we're here, suh---because
we have business here."

Brayton had slipped into his bathrobe and was now crossing the
room with blankets on one arm.

"Chase 'em out, Bray; don't hang any blankets for them to run
a light behind," begged Dodge.

"I'm afraid I'd better," murmured Brayton, as he stood on a chair
and reached up to put the blankets in place. Didn't you hear
the announcement that this is a committee of honor? The class
has a right to send one to any man, and Prescott, the class president,
is here. There, those blankets will hold and shut in all light.
Turn on the gas, Holmesy, if you will."

"You'd better get into robe and slippers, too, Mr. Dodge," hinted
Dunstan strongly. "Our business is with you, and I think you'll
feel more at ease on your feet."

"What is all this nonsense about, anyway growled Dodge, as he
slipped out of bed and wrapped himself in his dressing gown.

"That's what we'll ask you to explain," retorted Greg. "But let
us go about this in a regular manner. In the first place, Brayton,
please understand that you are not being investigated. It is
Mr. Dodge who is under suspicion."

"Yes; under fine suspicion!" snarled Dodge. "You mean I'm to
be the victim of a plot hatched by my two old enemies back in
the home town."

But Greg, ignoring him, turned to his chum.

"Dick, old ramrod, as you're the aggrieved one, I don't suppose
you can exactly act as class president in this case. But you
can designate some other member of the class to act in your place."

"Then I'll name Mr. Anstey," replied Dick. "I be