It was several minutes before Prescott turned around again. When he did there was a furious glare in his eyes.
"Greg, old chum! This is no joke. You heard Unwine. He was delivering an official order, not carrying an April-fool package."
"Well, then, what does it all mean?" demanded Greg stolidly, for he began to feel dazed. "But, first of all, old ramrod, aren't you going to get ready to fall in for dinner formation?"
Mechanically, wearily, Dick obeyed the suggestion.
As he did so he managed to tell the story of the section room to horrified Greg.
"See here," muttered Cadet Holmes energetically, "you didn't do anything in the cheating line. Every fellow in the corps will know that. So you'll have to set your wits at work to find the real explanation of the thing. How could that paper have gotten in with your handkerchief?"
"I don't know," replied Dick, shaking his head hopelessly.
"Well, you've got to find out, son, and that right quick! There isn't a moment to be lost! You didn't cheat—-you wouldn't know how do a deliberately dishonest thing. But that reply won't satisfy the powers that be. You've got to get your answer ready, and do it with a rush."
"Perhaps you can also suggest where the rush should start," observed
Prescott.
"Yes; I've got to suggest everything that is going to be done, I reckon," muttered Greg, resting a chum's loyal hand on Dick's shoulder. "Old ramrod, you're too dazed to think of anything, and I'm nearly as badly off myself. Say, did anyone, to your knowledge, have your handkerchief?"