"
None the less the Naval officer, as a part of his duty, put the
question:
"Mr. Dalzell, have you, since taps, been out of this room? Did
you return, let us say, by the route of the open window from the
terrace?"
Midshipman Dalzell stiffened. He didn't intend to betray his own
honor by denying, yet he hated to let out the admission that would
damage him so much.
Bang! It was an explosion like a crashing pistol shot, and it
sounded from the corridor outside.
There could be no such thing as an assault at arms in guarded
Bancroft Hall. The first thought that flashed, excitedly, through
Lieutenant Adams's mind was that perhaps the real delinquent guilty
of the night's escapade had just shot himself. It was a wild
guess, but a pistol shot sometimes starts a wilder guess.
Out into the corridor darted Lieutenant Adams. He did not immediately
return to the room, so Dave Darrin, with rare and desperate presence
of mind, closed the door.
"Get back into the meadow grass, Danny boy," Darrin whispered,
giving his friend's arm a hard grip. "If the 'loot'nant' comes
back, get up fearfully drowsy when he orders you. Gape and look
too stupid to apologize!"
Lieutenant Adams, however, had other matters to occupy his attention.
There was a genuine puzzle for him in the corridor. Just out,
side the door of Midshipmen Farley and Page there lay on the floor
tiny glass fragments of what had been an efficient sixty-candle-power
tungsten electric bulb.
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