under some strain, though, for the life of them, neither Sid nor Phil could tell what it was.
"Why doesn't some one say something?" asked Phil at length, and it was as if some one had broken the silence in a church.
Sid picked up the book he had cast aside. Then he threw it down again, for there sounded the noise of a person coming along the corridor. The Snail came in.
"Well?" gasped Tom, and it was as if he had shouted it, though he spoke in a low, tense voice.
"They're in a bad way," said the Snail slowly, "but there's a chance to pull them through. There's going to be an investigation, I heard. Langridge is likely to"
There came a knock on the door. The lads started guiltily. Phil, being nearest the portal, opened it, though if it was one of the proctor's "scouts," as was likely, he would be "up" for breaking one of the college rules about being in another room after the prescribed hours. It was a "scout," Mr. Snell, a sort of upper janitor.
"Mr. Parsons," said the scout deferentially and he took no notice of the presence of the Snail or Phil, for which they were duly grateful—"Mr. Parsons, the proctor would like to see you in his office."
"Now?" asked Tom, and his heart began to beat double strokes.
