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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.
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