"I'm in 17 West Hall, and my name's Bingham."
"My name's Kemble. Glad to know you. Well, see you again."
He straightened his shoulders in the manner of a condemned man starting for the gallows and disappeared indoors. Clif looked after him, frowning in puzzlement for an instant, and then followed. Beyond the reception room a wide flight of slate stairs curved to the second floor, and up it Clif made his way, his footsteps arousing tiny echoes in the silent building. In the second floor corridor one or two doors stood open, but so far he had the Hall almost to himself. His door was the fourth on the right. On the oaken panel was an oval disk of white enamel bearing the number 17. Beneath it were two small brass slots, in one of which a somewhat yellowed visiting card indicated that Mr. Walter Harrison Treat dwelt within. Mr. Treat was not within at present, however, for when Clif swung the door shut behind him he was the sole occupant of the room.
His father had thought well of the apartment, but Clif was not so pleased with it. It was large enough and nicely furnished, but, although it contained two windows, it was on the inner side of the building, close to the angle formed by the junction of West and Middle Halls, and the view was confined to the courtyard. At Wyndham everything save the gymnasium was under one roof, an advantage emphasized by the school advertisements. The original structure, now known as Middle Hall, formed the nucleus of the present plant.
