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"In my bureau drawer."
"It is kept locked?"
"No, sir. I never lock it."
"Do you remember what was in that last letter?"
"Yes, sir."
"Was any one mentioned in it?"
"Yes, sir. Mr. Remsen was mentioned. And Outfield West, and my brother, and father."
"Is this your letter?" Professor Wheeler extended it across the desk, and Joel took it wonderingly.
"Why, yes, sir. But where--I don't understand--!" Again he looked toward Professor Durkee in bewilderment.
"Nor do I," answered that gentleman dryly.
"March," continued the princ.i.p.al, as he took the letter again, "this was found this morning, after the accident, on the floor of the bell tower.
Do you know how it came there?" Joel's cheeks reddened and then grew white as the full meaning of the words reached him. His voice suddenly grew husky.
"No, sir, I do not." The words were spoken very stoutly and rang with sincerity. A silence fell on the room. Professor Wheeler glanced inquiringly at Professor Durkee, and the latter made a grimace of impatience that snarled his homely face into a ma.s.s of wrinkles.
"Look here, boy," he snapped, "who do you think dropped that letter there?"
"I can't think, sir. I can't understand it at all. I've never been in the tower since I've been in school."
"Do you know of any one who might like to get you into trouble in such a way as this?"
"No, sir," answered Joel promptly. Then a sudden recollection of Bartlett Cloud came to him, and he hesitated. Professor Durkee observed it.
"Well?" he said sharply.
"I know of no one, sir."
"Humph!" grunted the professor, "you do, but you won't say."
"If you suspect any one it will be best to tell us, March," said Professor Wheeler, more kindly. "You must see that the evidence is much against you, and, while I myself can not believe that you are guilty, I shall be obliged to consider you so until proof of your innocence is forthcoming. Have you any enemy in school?"
"I think not, sir."
The door opened and Remsen appeared.
"Good-morning," he said. "You wished to see me, professor?"
"Yes, in a moment. Sit down, please, Remsen." Remsen nodded to Joel and the secretary, shook hands with Professor Durkee, and took a chair. The princ.i.p.al turned again to Joel.
"You wish me to understand, then, that you have no explanation to offer as to how the letter came to be in the bell tower? Recollect that s.h.i.+elding a friend or any other pupil will do neither you nor him any service."
Joel was hesitating. Was it right to throw suspicion on Bartlett Cloud by mentioning the small occurrence on the football field so long before?
It was inconceivable that Cloud would go to such a length in mere spite.
And yet--Remsen interrupted his thoughts.
"Professor, if you will dismiss March for a while, perhaps I can throw some light on the matter. Let him return in half an hour or so."
Professor Wheeler nodded.
"Come back at one o'clock, March," he said.
Outside Joel hesitated where to go. He must tell some one his trouble, and there was only one who would really care. He turned toward Hampton House, then remembered that it was dinner hour and that Outfield would be at table. He had forgotten his own dinner until that moment. In the dining hall West was still lingering over his dessert. Joel took his seat at the training table, explaining his absence by saying that he had been called to the office, and hurried through a dinner of beef and rice and milk. When West arose Joel overtook him at the door. And as the friends took their way toward Joel's room, he told everything to West in words that tumbled over each other.
Outfield West heard him in silence after one exclamation of surprise, and when Joel had finished, cried:
"Why didn't you tell about Cloud? Don't you see that this is his doing?
That he is getting even with you for his losing the football team?"
"I thought of that, Out, but it seemed too silly to suppose that he would do such a thing just for--for that, you know."
"Well, you may be certain that he did do it; or, at least, if he didn't cut the rope himself, found some one to do it for him. It's just the kind of a revenge that a fellow of his meanness would think of. He won't stand up and fight like a man. Here, let's go and find him!"
"No, wait. I'll tell Professor Wheeler about him when I go back; then if he thinks--If he did do it, Out, I'll lick him good for it!"
"Hooray! And when you get through I'll take a hand, too. But what do you suppose Remsen was going to tell?"
Joel shook his head. They found Sproule in the room, and to him West spoke as follows:
"h.e.l.lo, d.i.c.key! You're not studying? It's not good for you; these sudden changes should be avoided." Sproule laughed, but looked annoyed at the banter. "Joel and I have come up for a chat, d.i.c.key," continued West.
"Now, you take your Robinson Crusoe and read somewhere else for a while, like a nice boy."
Sproule grew red-faced, and turned to West angrily.
"Don't you see I'm studying? If you and March want to talk, why, either go somewhere else, or talk here."
"But our talk is private, d.i.c.key, and not intended for little boys'
ears. You know the saying about little pitchers, d.i.c.key?"
"Well, I'm not going out, so you can talk or not as you like."
"Oh, yes, you are going out, d.i.c.key. Politeness requires it, and I shall see that you maintain that delightful courteousness for which you are noted. Now, d.i.c.key!" West indicated the door with a nod and a smile.
Sproule bent his head over his book and growled a response that sounded anything but polite. Then West, still smiling, seized the un.o.bliging youth by the shoulders, pinioning his arms to his sides, and pushed him away from the table and toward the door. Joel rescued the lamp at a critical moment, the chairs went over on to the floor, and a minute later Sproule was on the farther side of the bolted door, and West was adjusting his rumpled attire.
"I'll report you for this, Outfield West!" howled Sproule through the door, in a pa.s.sion of resentment.
"Report away," answered West mockingly.
"And if I miss my Latin I'll tell why, too!"
"Well, you'll miss it all right enough, unless you've changed mightily.