At these words the teacher turned slightly pale, a vision of a lawsuit with damages to pay floating across his miserly mind.

“To ease your mind Rover, let me say I’ll see to it that he doesn’t get sick,” he said, and before Tom or Dick could question him further he passed out of the room.

“If he isn’t the worst yet!” burst out Fred, who had listened with interest to what was said.

“I shan’t stand it,” returned Tom.  “Will you, Dick?”

Dick, older and more thoughtful, mused for a moment.

“I’d certainly like to help Sam,” he said.  “But we must be careful and not get into trouble with Captain Putnam.”

“I’m going to find my way to the door of the cell somehow,” went on Tom.

“Old Grinder left that door unlocked when he! came out,” said George, who had joined them.

“Good?  I’m going through before he comes back.”

As good as his word, Tom slipped past the various tables at which the students were sitting, until he reached the door which connected with Captain Putnam’s private apartments.

Usually this portion of the Hall was forbidden ground to the scholars.  But Tom had been inside the rooms a number of times, so knew the way well.  Passing through a private sitting room and a small library, he came to a narrow hall connecting with the main hall, at the end of which were the stone cell and the empty storeroom.

He was just about to step into the main hall when he heard somebody coming down from the floor above.  The party was Mrs. Green, the housekeeper, a good-natured lady upon whom Tom had played many a joke in the past.

“Gosh!  I mustn’t be discovered!” he muttered, and looked around for some place to hide.  Under the staircase was a recess containing a number of hooks with cloaks and overcoats, and into this he crowded, drawing one of the overcoats so as to completely cover the upper portion of his body.

Hardly had he gained the hiding place when Mrs. Green reached the lower hallway.  Tom heard her pause at the foot of the stairs, strike a match, and light the big swinging lamp hanging from overhead.

“I might as well mend that overcoat now, while the captain is away,” Tom heard her murmur to herself.  “It’s only a buttonhole that’s torn out, and a tailor would charge him four times what it’s worth—­and he always so good at Christmas-time!”

“She’s looking out for her present,” thought Tom, with a grin.  “But that’s none of my affair.  If only she isn’t after this overcoat!”

He heard the housekeeper approach the recess and pause for a moment in front of it.  He hardly dared to breathe, fearing that he would surely be discovered.

“Well, I declare, if he hasn’t gone and worn the very overcoat itself!” he heard Mrs. Green cry.  “Just like him, and two good coats a-hanging here.  Well, I suppose it’s the warmest he’s got, and he’ll have a cold ride back, especially if he returns to-night.”  And so speaking Mrs. Green hurried away.