Tap-Tap! sounded Lieutenant Nettleson’s knuckles on the door.

Just a shade longer than usual the lieutenant waited ere he turned the door knob and entered the room.

Behind him, like a faithful orderly, stood Midshipman Hawkins, of the first class, cadet officer of the day.

A quick look about the room Lieutenant Nettleson took, then turned to the cadet officer of the day.

“Mr. Hawkins,” spoke the O.C., “Mr. Darrin seems to be growing worse in his breaches of duty.”

“So it seems, sir,” agreed the cadet officer the day.

“Mr. Darrin has left his bed turned down,” continued the lieutenant, inspecting that article of furniture.  “And, judging by the looks of the sheets, he has been abed with his boots on.”

“Yes sir.”

“You will put Mr. Darrin on the report for this latest offense, Mr. Hawkins.”

“Aye, aye, sir.”

Lieutenant Nettleson made a further inspection of the room.

“And Mr. Darrin has neglected to empty his washbowl.  He has also thrown the towel on the floor.  Put Mr. Darrin on the report for that as well.”

“Aye, aye, sir.”

“That is all here, Mr Hawkins.”

“Very good, sir.”

O.C. and cadet officer of the day turned to leave the room.  As they were crossing the threshold Midshipman Farley, saluting, reported: 

“I think, sir, if you search more closely, you will find some one in this room.”

“Very good,” replied the officer in charge, turning back.

In truth, Lieutenant Nettleson was already aware that there was a prowler in the room, for he had seen a pair of feet in a dark corner; but he had purposely awaited Midshipman Farley’s report.

Now, swift as a flash, Lieutenant Nettleson turned back, going straight so the cupboard in which Dave Darrin’s uniform equipment hung.

Pushing aside a dress uniform and a raincoat that hung like curtains, Lieutenant Nettleson gazed into the face of ­Midshipman Henkel!

Henkel had been caught so suddenly, had realized it so tardily, that the grin of exultation had not quite faded from his face by the time that he stood exposed.

In another second, however, that midshipman’s face had turned as white as dirty chalk.

“Stand forth, sir!” ordered the O.C. sternly.

Henkel obeyed, his legs shaking under him.

“What is your name?”

“Henkel, sir.”

“Mr. Henkel, what are you doing in the room of another midshipman, in the absence of both occupants?

“I ­I ­just dropped in, sir!” stammered affrighted midshipman.

“Mr. Henkel, sir,” continued Lieutenant Nettleson sternly, “it has long been a puzzle to the discipline officers why Mr. Darrin should so deliberately and senselessly invite demerits for lack of care of his equipment.  You may now be certain that you will be accused of all breaches of good order and discipline that have been laid at Mr. Darrin’s door.  Have you anything to say, sir.”

Midshipman Henkel, who had been doing some swift thinking, had had time enough to realize that no one had seen him doing any mischief in the room.  The offense, merely, of visiting another midshipman’s room improperly would call but for ten demerits.  Pooh!  The scrape was such a simple one that he would lie valiantly out of the graver charge and escape with ten demerits.

“I admit being here, sir, without propriety.  I am innocent of any further wrongdoing, sir,” lied the culprit.

Lieutenant Nettleson studied the young man’s face keenly.

“Mr. Henkel, was Mr. Darrin’s bed turned down and in its present disordered state when you entered the room?”

“Yes, sir.”

“You declare this on your honor as a midshipman and gentleman?”

“Yes, sir,” lied the unabashed Henkel.

“Was Mr. Darrin’s washbowl in its present untidy state?”

“I don’t know, sir.  I didn’t notice that.”

“Very good, Mr. Henkel.  Go to your room and remain there in close arrest.  Do not leave your room, except by orders or proper permission, sir.”

“Very good, sir,” replied Henkel, saluting.  Then, his face still a ghastly hue, he turned and marched from the room, not venturing, under the eyes of the O.C., to look at either Farley or Page.

When the sections came marching back from math.  Lieutenant Nettleson stood outside the door of his office.

“Mr. Darrin!” called the O.C.  And, a moment later, “Mr. Dalzell!”

Both wondering midshipmen approached the officer in charge for the day at Bancroft Hall, and saluted.

“Mr. Darrin,” stated Lieutenant Nettleson, “you and your roommate may go to your room to leave your books.  In the room you will find some evidences of disorder.  Do not attempt to set them straight.  As soon as you have left your books return to me.”

“And I also, sir?” queried Dan, saluting.

“You, also, Mr. Dalzell,” replied the officer.

“Now, has this thing broken loose again?” groaned Dave Darrin, as the two chums hurried below.

“It seems as if it ought to stop some time,” gasped Dalzell.

“It will, and soon,” gritted Darrin.  “In a very short time, now, I shall certainly have the full course of two hundred demerits.  Great ­Scott!”

For now the two chums were in their room, and saw the full extent of the mischief there.  “I guess I may as well wire home to Gridley for the price of my return ticket,” hinted Dave bitterly.

“Don’t do anything of the sort,” urged Dan, though with but little hope in his voice.  “You may still have a margin of ten or fifteen dems. left to hold you on.”

“We’re under orders, Danny boy, to report back to the O.C.”

“O.K.”

“Come along, then.”

In the office of the officer in charge stood Midshipmen Farley and Page.  Just after Dave and Dan entered Henkel came in, accompanied Midshipman Hawkins, the cadet officer of day.

It was an actually ferocious gaze that Henkel turned upon Darrin.  In that same instant Dave believed that a great light had broken in upon his mind.

“Mr. Hawkins,” requested the O.C., “ascertain whether the commandant of midshipmen can see us now.”

Saluting, the cadet officer of the day passed out of the room, very prim and erect, his white gloves of duty a very conspicuous part of his uniform.

In a few moments, he returned, raising his right, white-gloved hand to the visor of his cap.

“The commandant of midshipmen is ready, sir.”

“Come with me, then,” directed Lieutenant Nettleson, who had already risen to receive the cadet officer’s report.

The O.C. led the way into the office of Commander Jephson, U.S.  Navy, the commandant of midshipmen.

“This, Mr. Nettleson, I understand, relates to Mr. Darrin’s late apparent course in matters of discipline?” inquired Commander Jephson.

The commandant of midshipmen, who was middle-aged and slightly bald, removed his eye-glasses, holding them poised in his right hand while he gazed calmly at Mr. Nettleson.

“Yes, sir.  This is the matter,” replied the O.C., saluting his superior.

Commander Jephson had, usually, a manner of slow and gentle speech.  He impressed one, at first sight, as being a man lacking in “ginger,” which was a great mistake, as many a midshipman had found to his cost.

The commandant of cadets, however, did not believe in becoming excited or excitable until the occasion arose.

“Be good enough to make your statement, Mr. Nettleson,” requested Commander Jephson.

Consulting a slip of paper that he held in his left hand the younger Naval officer recounted the previous instances in which Midshipman Darrin, fourth class, U.S.  Naval Academy, had been found delinquent in that he had slighted the care of his equipment or of his room.

Having made this preliminary statement, the officer in charge now came down to the doings of the present day.

Midshipman Henkel kept his gaze fixed on Lieutenant Nettleson’s face.  Henkel’s bearing was almost arrogant.  He had fully decided upon his course of lying himself out of his serious scrape.