Gale could never quite clearly remember her dash to the infirmary after Doctor Norcot, but finally Phyllis was there, shut into a room with the doctor and nurse and Gale and the Dean were in the corridor. Gale was pacing up and down, the Dean watching her. It was dark outside and a single light made a white circle on the tile floor and walls.

Gale stopped her pacing long enough to glare at the door to Phyllis’ room. She had a wild desire to throw it open and burst in.

“Be patient a little longer, Gale,” the Dean said compassionately. “You can see her in a few minutes.”

“Why did it have to be her?” Gale asked in an agonized whisper. “She suffered so much these past weeks after the hockey accident and now—— She did it saving us! We might have been crushed under that lumber.”

The door opened and the Doctor came out followed by a nurse.

“May I go in?” Gale asked.

The Doctor nodded wearily. “Be cheerful, make her smile but don’t let her get excited or talk too much.”

“I’m so full of splinters I can’t even smile,” Phyllis said gloomily when Gale was beside her. “You had better go get your dinner.”

“You aren’t going to get rid of me so easily,” Gale laughed.

Phyllis’ face was all scratched and she looked white and tired.

“Honestly, Phyl——” she began when she remembered the Doctor’s warning. “This was a fine thing for you to do. Now I’ll be by myself in our room tonight again. See that you are back tomorrow, young lady, or I shall move in here with you. After all, I believe you did it so you wouldn’t have to go to Biology class tomorrow. There is more than one way of escaping an exam. Though I can’t say I would choose this way.”

“Don’t talk so much,” Phyllis said bluntly. “You don’t know a word you are saying.”

Gale nodded soberly. “Right you are. I can’t think of a thing but the way you pulled us out of danger this afternoon and now you——” She took her friend’s hand. “I’ll make it up to you sometime, Phyl.”

“Go way,” Phyllis said tenderly. “Go get your dinner and study your old Biology and come and see me tomorrow.”

Gale went out and found the Doctor and the Dean in conference in the corridor.

“She seems to be all right,” Gale said.

“She has the courage of six girls,” the Doctor said firmly. “But, Miss Howard, I am afraid your friend is right where she was five weeks ago.”

“You mean her leg——”

“Crushed under the lumber this afternoon,” the Doctor said. “Not too badly crushed but enough to undo the healing of these past weeks.”

“Poor Phyllis!” Gale whispered.

“Do you think she would want to go home until she is well again?” the Dean asked as she walked to the door with Gale.

Gale shook her head. “No,” she said decidedly. “Phyllis wouldn’t want to go home.” Strange, perhaps, that she should choose to stay here, but even the college infirmary was brighter, more cheerful than the house on the hill to which Phyllis would have to go.

“Come and have your dinner with me,” the Dean invited.

“Thanks, no,” Gale said when they were on the campus. “I—I’d rather be alone, thank you. I have to write Phyllis’ aunt again,” she sighed.

The Dean turned toward her office and Gale toward Happiness House. She walked along, hands in her pockets, deep in thought until at last she reached the sorority house. She met Adele Stevens and Ricky and conveyed to them the news of Phyllis. After her dinner she went upstairs to study but she found she could not concentrate.

Phyllis was on her mind. Alternated with thoughts of her friend were remembrances of the conversation they had had with the Dean that afternoon. She was completely at sea as to who could be doing the mysterious things. Quite suddenly she sat erect before her desk and stared with narrowed eyes at the wall opposite. That had been a goodly pile of lumber this afternoon. It had been piled, perhaps a bit precariously, but nevertheless it had not wavered until that moment before it fell. Could it be—was it possible—that someone had pushed it? The pile really had needed but a bit of pressure to send it over. Who had exerted that bit of pressure?

At first Gale laughed at herself. It was a wild idea! No one would do that! But the more she thought about it the more plausible it became. She had thought no one would throw acid out the Chemistry Hall window—but evidently someone had!

Then she remembered the note the Dean had had in her hand when the lumber fell upon Phyllis. She had a fleeting vision of the same note lying in the mud unheeded. Their one valuable clue gone!

Catching up her coat Gale switched out the light and stepped into the hall. No one was in sight. She sped down the stairs and at the bottom bumped into Adele Stevens.

“Where are you going, Gale?” the Senior asked. “It is study hour.”

“I know,” Gale said breathlessly. “I—I can’t study. I thought I’d go for a short walk.”

“Thinking about Phyllis?” Adele said kindly. “All right, Gale. I suppose you can tonight. Be back before lights-out bell.”

“I will,” Gale breathed and was gone before the sorority president could change her mind.

The late autumn evening was clear and cold. The leafless branches of the trees rubbed together making queer eerie noises. Windows of the dormitory and sorority houses shone yellow with light. Gale stepped along briskly. She passed the dormitory houses and halted before the Chemistry Hall. There was a light burning in the third floor laboratory. Was one of the Professors working late? Probably. She turned away into the shadows behind the building.

It was terribly dark in here. She took the small flashlight from her coat pocket and switched it on. She had been just about to stumble into a mud puddle. Now she jumped across it and proceeded with caution. She came to the scene of the afternoon. The lumber lay as it had fallen. In her mind’s eye Gale could still see Phyllis lying there. She shivered and turned away. Carefully she went over the ground. Caught under a board, torn almost in half, Gale found the note. It was dirty and wrinkled and torn but she carefully folded it in the original creases and stored it in her coat pocket. She switched off her flashlight and stood listening. Had she heard a sound?

The moon was completely hidden behind a cloud. The wind whistled in her ears. She shivered in her warm coat. It wasn’t the cold, it was the darkness, the shadowy world about her, and the knowledge of another’s presence. She strained her ears to catch the faintest sound. There was a sudden creak and a smothered exclamation as someone stumbled over a bit of lumber. Gale crouched against half-piled boards and waited.

A man’s figure was outlined against the light from the moving clouds. A hat pulled low on his forehead and a long overcoat with collar turned up completely hid his identity. Gale considered jumping in front of him and flashing her light in his face. She would know who he was then! But she reconsidered the next moment, and waited to see what he was after. It was obvious that he was searching for something. He crouched low to the ground, examining every foot of space thoroughly with a small pocket lamp. What could he be searching for? Could it be the note in her pocket? Convulsively her hand closed about the muddy piece of paper. It must be this! There was nothing else here. Gale took a step backward as the figure moved closer. That was the fatal moment. She stumbled wildly over something and fell. The clatter was distinct and as loud as a cannon shot in the stillness. The man whirled. He flashed his light full into Gale’s face. She blinked in the sudden glare and did not move. In another second the light was gone and the figure had fled toward the campus.

Gale scrambled to her feet but it was hopeless to think of pursuit. If only she hadn’t fallen! Her clumsiness had spoiled everything! The man was gone now and so was her chance of solving the mystery. She shook the mud from her coat and picked her way back to the campus.

The light was gone from the Chemistry laboratory. A lot of windows in the other dormitories were dark, too. It was growing late. Gale hastened her steps. She had to be in before lights-out bell rang. She had promised Adele, and not only that, she didn’t fancy being out late on the campus with that mysterious stranger—the mystery man who knew her identity but whom she did not know. He had her at a decided disadvantage. He knew, now, who was spying on him and noting his movements. She knew she must guard against someone, but whom? If only she had discovered his identity! She rebuked herself again. She would have given nearly all she possessed to know who else wanted the note.

When she returned to her room she examined the bit of paper more closely. Through the dirt, after she had carefully pasted the torn parts together, the brief typewritten message was still clearly legible. There was nothing to distinguish this typewriting from any other except—the letter R was slightly raised above the level of the other letters. That might help a little in identifying the typewriter. If she found a machine which had that little peculiarity it might lead to the mysterious stranger.

She smiled to herself as she switched off her light and got into bed. She would turn all the girls into Sherlock Holmeses seeking and trying all the typewriters they could find.