"Certain idea! What's up, Holmesy?"
"It isn't a feed," declared Greg. "But I think you'd be sorry afterwards if you failed to come."
"We'll be here," promised Dunstan.
"Then I guess our party will be complete," mumbled the mysterious
Greg.
"Say, Holmesy," nudged Dunstan, "how did you get that smear on the back of your hand? Do you know, it looks like the famous one that Cadet Dodge rubbed off with a borrowed handkerchief, once on a time."
"Does it?" asked Greg innocently. "Be good enough to loan me your handkerchief, then?"
"Not much!" growled Dunstan, backing away. "The loaning of personal linen seems on its way to becoming a court-martial offence."
When the visitors had left, Dick turned on his chum, demanding curiously:
"What's the game for tonight, anyway, Greg?"
"You didn't see how I got this smear on my hand, did you, old ramrod?"