d breaking into Campbell's room, the
incident with Mr. Stevens, the summons to Doctor Wells' office, the
visit to Gannett Hall and the astounding secret that revealed itself
when the boards of the closet were lifted,--all those events seemed like
strange imaginings. Teeny-bits jumped from bed and opened the door of
the closet. The little marks that he and Doctor Wells had made with the
paper-knife were sufficient evidence to bring back the reality of each
incident and to plunge Teeny-bits into a gloomy perplexity from which
not even the crisp brightness of the November day or the prospect of the
Jefferson game could divert his mind.

The worst of it was that there seemed to be nothing that he could do
except await developments; he thought of going to Snubby Turner and
demanding an explanation of the part that Snubby had played in breaking
into Tracey Campbell's room, but he could not bring himself to make what
would be nothing less than a serious accusation of his friend. He
determined to wait.

Throughout the day it seemed to Teeny-bits that he was leading two
lives,--the one absorbed in the personal problem that had been thrust
upon him, the other concerned with the mechanical performance of the
various duties that came his way. He attended classes, ate his meals and
took part in the regular football practice, but his mind was elsewhere.

Coach Murray was the first to notice that everything was not quite
right. When the practice was two thirds over he spoke to Teeny-bits.

"Aren't you feeling fit?" he asked.

"I'm all right," replied the half-back.

"I'm afraid you've been working a little too hard," said the coach.
"We'll call that enough for you to-day."

Doctor Wells had a habit of conferring with Mr. Stevens in matters that
concerned his personal relationship with the members of the school. He
had a great respect for the English master's understanding of character.
On Tuesday morning he summoned Mr. Stevens to his office and put a blunt
question.

"What do you think of Holbrook--Teeny-bits, as they call him?"

"Why, I've always liked him," said Mr. Stevens.

"Are you quite sure of him?"

For an instant Mr. Stevens did not answer, and then he said quickly:
"Yes, I----, oh, I'm sure he's all right. In fact, I've considered him
as the same type--though, of course, with a different background--as
Neil Durant; and you know what I think of Neil."

If Doctor Wells had noticed the slight pause which preceded