"Any one with you, Mr. Parsons?"
"Well—er—that is"
The watchman started to go out, thinking to catch several students. At that instant Langridge, with a cunning evidently born of long experience, circled around Tom on the opposite side to that on which the watchman stood and darted down a small areaway that led to the basement.
"Ha! trying to hide!" exclaimed the guardian of the door. "I'll find out who you are!"
In the darkness he went down into the areaway. A moment later Langridge had roughly upset him there, and before the man could gain his feet, the pitcher had sprinted up the steps and into the open door of the dormitory and thence along the corridor to his room. The watchman had not had a glimpse of his face.
The man came panting up the steps.
"Who—who was that with you, Mr. Parsons?" he demanded sternly as he rubbed his bruised shins.
Tom took a sudden resolve. There might be a chance for Langridge to escape.
"I'm not going to tell," he said firmly but respectfully.
"Very well," he replied. "You must report to Mr. Zane in the morning. I'll inform him of this outrage. He'll make you tell who was with you."
"I don't believe he will," thought Tom as he went to his room.
