will suit me exactly for that, but there'll be hours when the books can be forgotten, and then you fellows'll find that the room is a corker for cards or any sort of jollification."
"I don't see what that's got to do with hazing," remarked Merriwell. "You said that the hazing reminded you of it."
"Yes, I'll tell you why, or rather I'll show you. There's something about that room that would be perfectly immense if we were sophomores now. Come down and see it, will you?"
"Better wait a week," said Browning, picking up his bags, "I'm busy now."
"How extraordinary!" remarked Dismal Jones. "If the faculty should hear that Browning was busy they'd give him a warning!"
Browning frowned in mock anger and Frank, putting on an expression quite as solemn as Dismal's own, and laying his hand on Dismal's shoulder, said:
"The fact is, boys, Jones has become ambitious. He knows that the election of class-day officers is only a little more than a year away, and he's getting himself into training for one of the positions."
"Oh, go on, it isn't so!" exclaimed Dismal.
"That's just his modesty," continued Frank, "for of course he doesn't want to push himself forward, but he's quietly waiting for his friends to recognize his great ability, and as we're his friends we just want to boom him from now on, and I take this occasion of nominating Dismal Jones, Esquire, as class wit."
Rattleton burst into guffaws of laughter, while the others smiled.
"The idea is humorous enough to elect him!" said Diamond.
"Well, if he's going to be a candidate," added Browning, "we must put the campaign through in proper fashion. We must organize a Dismal Jones Club and have an emblem.
"I move that we all wear crape upon our left arm and mourning bands upon our hats until the election."
"Great Scott!" howled Rattleton, "the time for mourning will be after Jones is elected."
Jones listened to this joking with stolid good humor; never a smile lingered on his face, but his solemn eyes showed no resentment.
"It's all right," he remarked when they gave him a chance to speak, "you fellows think you've got me on a long string, but I'd like to bet that if I should run for a class office, I wouldn't be last in the race!
"Of course," he added, hastily, "I haven't really any insane notion of doing such a thing."
The students laughed again, picked up their gripsacks and prepared to separate.
"Say!" called Page, eagerly, "what about coming down to see my room?"
"Oh, we've got a whole year ahead of us," growled Browning.
"I'll run down in the course of an hour or two," said Frank. "I don't think there's anything to do at my room, and I'll be glad to learn the way to yours. What's the number?"
Page told him, and Frank exclaimed:
"Why! some of the professors live there, don't they?"
"Pretty much the whole house," responded Page, "is let out to students and instructors; I believe Prof. Babbitt has his room there – "
"Babbitt!" interrupted Rattleton; "he's the most unpardonable crank in the whole faculty."
"Well, I shall let him alone, and I've no doubt that he will let me alone," returned Page. "He's a good deal of a hermit, I'm told, and I don't think that his being in the same house will make a particle of difference to me. Anyhow, there's the room and I want you fellows to see it."
"I'll be down in a little while," said Frank, and the others also promised to come in the course of a day or two.
CHAPTER II
IMPRISONED IN A CHIMNEY
Frank found that there was nothing whatever in his room to demand his attention, and so, after he had unpacked his grips and put away their contents, he went down High Street to call on Page.
The house in which Page had taken a room was made of stone. Its walls were very thick, the ceilings low, and everything about it made it seem like a relic of the last century.
This is indeed what it was. In former days it had been the residence of one of the wealthiest men in New Haven, but that was long ago; for years it had been used wholly as a lodging house.
Page's room was on the second floor. It was very large and cheerful. Three windows looked out on the street and in each of them was a broad seat provided with heavy cushions.
On the opposite side of the room there were two old-fashioned benches built against the wall. Between the ends of these benches and right in the middle of that side of the room was one of the ancient chimneys of the house.
It came out three or four feet into the room and gave the place an antique and interesting appearance. Page had hung a lot of ornaments in the way of fencing foils, boxing gloves, baseball bats, and other materials used by students, upon this chimney.
After Frank had taken a general look around the room he said:
"It's a nice old den, Page, and I think the chimney there is the best part of it. What a pity that there isn't a fireplace. There ought to be, and it strikes me that there was at one time."
Saying this, he knelt down before the chimney and examined the stones of which it was made. These had been painted white. Frank thought he could see a line that indicated what had once been an opening. Page watched him in silence.
"There certainly was a fireplace here at one time," said Frank, rising, "and if I were in your place I'd have the stones cut away so that you can use it again. An open wood fire there would look immense in winter."
"That's a good scheme, Frank," responded Page, "and it was that chimney that led me to speak of the room. I didn't know it when I hired the place, but since I've got in I've discovered that – well, I'll show you."
With this he stooped over by the chimney, put his hand upon what appeared to be a little projection from one of the stones, turned it, and opened a door.
Within the door there was revealed an old-fashioned fireplace, deep and high. All it needed was andirons and poker to make it complete.
"Well, that's funny!" exclaimed Frank.
"Isn't it?" returned Page. "I got on to the thing wholly by accident. When I was hanging up some of the things there I stumbled and caught hold of that little projection for support.
"The thing turned in my hand, and the first thing I knew the door was open. It opened a little hard, showing that the thing hadn't been used for a long time."
"Didn't the owner of the house speak of it?"
"I don't think he knows anything about it."
"Have you told him?"
"Not much!"
"Why not?"
"Well, because it just struck me that such a place as this was a kind of a secret worth keeping. You can see for yourself that it was the evident intention of the person who set up this door that it should be a secret. The hinges are perfectly concealed, and
