Ann Arbor Tales Part 17

"Come--come, quick," she cried. "He's on the bed: his face is all blood."

"Yes, yes," he replied, stooping and hastily gathering up the "blue books"--"I'll fling these in the hall; you run on ahead--I'll be right there."

From the doorway he called to his wife,

"Young man murdered next door, Jenny," and from the porch at the end nearest Mrs. Turner's house he leaped into a snow-drift. He floundered out and into the house as his wife appeared upon the porch wringing her hands and moaning.

He bounded up the stairs in the wake of Mrs. Turner and brushed past her into the room of horror.

He brought up stock still and looked about.

"There's the corpse! There; over there on the bed!" the woman wailed, frantically.

He pulled away the piled chairs, and seizing the body rolled it upon its back. Over Catherwood's eyes was bound a strip of cloth and a gag made of a stocking was tied across his mouth. The a.s.sistant professor unknotted the gag with trembling fingers and tore away the blindfold and Catherwood blinked up at him owlishly.

"Are you dead?" the a.s.sistant professor asked with bated breath.

Catherwood's mouth worked convulsively and then he muttered hoa.r.s.ely: "Water! water!"

Mrs. Turner hurried to the bathroom and returned with a cup, which the a.s.sistant professor took from her and held to the young man's lips. He gulped eagerly.

"Look at his face!" cried Mrs. Turner.

It was streaked and spotted with a brown stain.

"Is it blood?" The woman s.h.i.+vered.

The a.s.sistant professor sniffed.

"Iodine," he exclaimed. "And see," he added, stooping, "here's the bottle." He held up the phial that had caught his eye where it lay on the floor at the foot of the bed.

"Untie my hands," Catherwood gurgled--"Here, behind me!"

They were tied securely by two handkerchiefs knotted together. The a.s.sistant professor fumbled at the loops. He disengaged the swollen wrists and Catherwood sat up in bed. He loosened the bindings of his ankles himself and stood up.

"Whew!" he whistled.

He caught sight of his brown-streaked and spotted face in the dresser mirror.

"Caesar!" he exclaimed, "that was a fine job!"

Satisfied that a rescue had been accomplished in good time, the a.s.sistant professor said:

"Sit down, Mr. Catherwood, and explain, if possible, the meaning of this--this hazing. I observed you were not present at the examination to-day."

Mrs. Turner, who till now had stood by wringing her hands, commenced, with mechanical precision, to wrest order out of chaos in the room.

From time to time during Catherwood's recital she stopped in her work long enough to voice an ejaculatory "oh," or exclaim--"Well, _I_ declare."

"It is clearly a case of hazing--hazing of the most malicious sort,"

observed the a.s.sistant professor, "and as such merits the fullest investigation on the part of the faculty, which I have no doubt the faculty will undertake. Do you know your a.s.sailants, Mr. Catherwood?"

"Yes--and no," the young man replied, rubbing a red and swollen wrist.

"Why do you say that?" the a.s.sistant professor inquired, significantly.

"I thought I did from the writing of the note I received yesterday afternoon----"

"Ah--you received a note then?"

"Yes--wait." Catherwood dove a hand into the inside pocket of his coat.

"Here it is," he said, and held out to his questioner a crumpled bit of paper written in a hand obviously disguised.

The a.s.sistant professor examined the writing closely.

"This, Mr. Catherwood," he opined finally, "is, as you see, 'back-hand.'

Moreover, it is quite clear to me that it was penned by some one who used his left hand, although he is, naturally, what we call 'right handed.'"

The professor remembered his "The Count of Monte Cristo."

"Ah----"

At Catherwood's exclamation he looked up quickly.

"That's why I could not identify it," the young man added.

"But, Mr. Catherwood," the a.s.sistant professor continued, "isn't it rather odd that you did not see--did not recognize the two men who a.s.sailed you; for of course there were two--the note reads----"

He looked down at the crumpled sheet again--"'We shall call at your room this evening.' Isn't it rather strange?" He awaited Catherwood's reply, calmly.

"I think there was but one!"

The a.s.sistant professor started.

"_One!_" he exclaimed. "Why it is more mysterious than ever--and you didn't see him, Mr. Catherwood?"

"No, sir, I did not."

"You did not?"

"No, sir...."

"Well, _I_ declare," e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Mrs. Turner.

Mr. Lowe smoothed over the note and folded it. "I shall take this," he said--"that is, if you do not mind."

"No--no--of course not----"