hted but empty. Satisfying himself on the
latter point, Steve turned to go out. Then, reflecting that, since the
instructor had left the lights on, he was probably coming right back, he
decided to await him. He seated himself in a chair near the big
green-topped table. Almost under his hand lay a blue-book, and in idle
curiosity Steve leaned forward and looked at it. On the white label in
the upper left-hand corner he read: "French IV. Carl W. Upton. Original
composition." Steve viewed that blue-book frowningly, envying Upton
deeply. Upton, whom he knew by sight, was the sort of fellow who always
had his lessons and who was forever being held up by the instructor to
the rest of the course as a shining example of diligence. He roomed on
the floor above Steve. It was, Steve reflected, just like Upton to get
his composition done and hand it in in advance of the others. He
wondered what sort of stuff Upton had written, and lifted the blue-book
from the table.

"En Revanche!" he read as he turned to the first page. His lip curled.
That was a silly title. He dipped into the story. It was something about
a French soldier accused of cowardice by an officer. Steve, puzzling
through the first page, grudgingly acknowledged that Upton had written
pretty good stuff. But his interest soon waned, for some of the words
were beyond him, and he idly tossed the book back on the table. He
wished, though, that that was his composition and not Upton's. He
wondered if Mr. Daley had seen it. Somehow the position of the book, in
the geometrical centre of the big writing-pad, suggested that Upton had
found the instructor out and had left the book. If he had that book
upstairs it wouldn't be hard to copy the composition out in his own
hand-writing. It would be a whole lot like stealing, but----

Steve looked fascinatedly at the book for a minute. Then his hand went
out and he was once more turning the pages of neat, close writing. Of
course, he wouldn't really do a thing like that, but--well, it would
solve a mighty big problem! And what a hole that self-sufficient Upton
would be in! He couldn't prove that he had left the book in Mr. Daley's
study, at least not unless the instructor had seen it there; and somehow
Steve was pretty sure he hadn't. Of course a decent chap wouldn't do a
trick like that, only--well, it would certainly be easy enough!

Upstairs, Tom was still deep in his Greek, but he looked up as Steve
came in. "Find him?" he asked.