“Not that I’ve heard of,” Dave Darrin answered quickly.  “Nor do I see how he could have done so.  You see, Wednesday he received some demerits, and with them went the loss of privileges for October.”

“Whew!” whistled Page.

“What?” demanded Dave, his alarm increasing.

“Why, not long after supper I saw Danny heading toward the wall on the town side.”

“I have been afraid of that for the last two or three minutes,” exclaimed Dave Darrin, his uneasiness now showing very plainly.  “Dan didn’t say a word to me about going anywhere, but-----”

“You think, leave being impossible, Danny has Frenched it over the wall?” demanded Farley.

“That’s just what I’m afraid of,” returned Dave.

“But why-----”

“I don’t know any reason.”

“Then-----”

“Farl”, broke in Dave hurriedly, almost fiercely, “has anyone a doughface?”

“Yes.”

“Who has it?”

“I don’t know.”

“Find it—–­on the jump!”

“But-----”

“There’s no time for ‘buts,’” retorted Darrin, pushing Farley toward the door.  “Find it!”

“And I-----” added Page, springing toward the door.

“You’ll stay here,” ordered Dave.

Darrin was already headed toward his friend’s alcove, where Dalzell’s cot lay.  Page followed.

“The dummy,” explained Darrin briefly.

Every midshipman at Annapolis, doubtless, is familiar with the dummy.  Not so many, probably, are familiar with the doughface, which, at the time this is written, was a new importation.

Swiftly Dave and Page worked.  First they turned down the clothing, after having hurriedly made up the cot.  Now, from among the garments hanging on the wall nearby the two midshipmen took down the garments that normally lay under others.  With these they rigged up a figure not unlike that of a human being.  At least, it looked so after the bed clothes had been drawn up in place.

Then, glancing at the time, Dave Darrin waited—–­breathless.

Farley hastened into the room without losing time by knocking.  Under one arm he bore, half hidden, some roundish object, wrapped in a towel.

Without a word, but with a heart full of gratitude, Dave Darrin snatched out from its wrapping the effigy of a male human head.  It was done in wax, with human hair on the head.

Dave Darrin neatly fitted this at the top of the outlines of a figure under the bed clothing.

Under the full light the doughface looked ghostly.  In a dimmer light it would do very well.

“Thank you a thousand times, fellows,” trembled Dave Darrin.  “Now hustle to your own quarters before the first stroke of taps sounds.”

The two useful visitors were gone like a flash.  Ere they had quite closed the door, Dave Darrin was removing his own uniform and hanging up trousers and blouse.  Next off came the underclothing and on went pajamas.