"From your face I begin to feel sure that I'm reeling off the right signals," pursued the Tottenville youth. "Now, I'll get still closer to the point, Mr. Prescott."
From an inside pocket Jarvis drew forth four typewritten pages, clamped together and neatly folded.
"Run your eye over these pages, Mr. Prescott, or as far as you want to go."
As Dick read down the pages every vestige of color faded from his face.
Here was Gridley's whole elaborate signal code, laid down in black and white to the last detail. It was all flawlessly correct, too.
"Mr. Jarvis," said Dick, looking up, "you've been a gentleman in this matter. This is our signal code, signal for signal. It's the code on which we relied for our chance to give your team a thrashing on Saturday. I thank you for your honesty, sir."
"Why, I always have rather prided myself on a desire to do the manly thing," smiled Captain Jarvis.
"May I ask how this came into your possession?" demanded Dick.
"It was in our family mail box, this morning, and I took it out on my way to school," replied Jarvis. "You see, the heading on the first sheet shows that the document purports to give the Gridley signals."
"And it does give them, to a dot," groaned Prescott, paling again.