would make him speak, for Mill was of a suspicious nature, and believed
that it was only his unintermitted vigilance which prevented the
dormitory ragging all night.

Mill _was_ awake.

"Be quiet, there," he growled. "Shut up that noise."

Shoeblossom felt that the time was not yet ripe for his departure. Half
an hour later he tried again. There was no rebuke. To make certain he
emitted a second chuckle, replete with sinister meaning. A slight snore
came from the direction of Mill's bed. Shoeblossom crept out of the
room, and hurried to his study. The door was not locked, for Mr Seymour
had relied on his commands being sufficient to keep the owner out of
it. He slipped in, found and lit the dark lantern, and settled down to
read. He read with feverish excitement. The thing was, you see, that
though Claud Trevelyan (that was the hero) knew jolly well that it was
Jasper who had done the murder, the police didn't, and, as he (Claud)
was too noble to tell them, he had himself been arrested on suspicion.
Shoeblossom was skimming through the pages with starting eyes, when
suddenly his attention was taken from his book by a sound. It was a
footstep. Somebody was coming down the passage, and under the door
filtered a thin stream of light. To snap the dark slide over the
lantern and dart to the door, so that if it opened he would be behind
it, was with him, as Mr Claud Trevelyan might have remarked, the work
of a moment. He heard the door of study number five flung open, and
then the footsteps passed on, and stopped opposite his own den. The
handle turned, and the light of a candle flashed into the room, to be
extinguished instantly as the draught of the moving door caught it.