The submaster then stepped over to a huge filing cabinet. Unlocking one of the sections, he looked busily through, then came back with a paper in his hand.
"I think I know whom you both suspect," began coach.
"Phin Drayne," spoke Dick, without hesitation.
"Yes. Well here is Drayne's recent examination paper in modern literature. It is, of course, in his own handwriting."
Eagerly the two football men and their coach bent over to compare Drayne's handwriting with that on the envelope that had come back from Milton.
"There has been an attempt at disguise," announced Mr. Morton, using a magnifying glass over the two specimens of writing. "Yet I am rather sure, in my own mind, that a handwriting expert would pronounce both specimens to have been written by the same hand."
"We've nailed Drayne, then," muttered Darrin vengefully.
"It looks like it," assented Mr. Morton. "However, we'll go slowly. For the present I'll put this examination paper with our other 'exhibits' and secure them all carefully in my inside pocket. Now, then, let us make our pencils fly for a while in getting up a revised code of signals."
It was not a long task after all. From the two typewritten copies
Dick copied the first half of the plays, Dave the latter. Then
Coach Morton went over the new sheets, rapidly jotting down new
figures that should make all plain.
"Ten minutes past three," muttered coach, thrusting all the papers in his inside pocket and buttoning his coat. "Now, we'll have to take a car and get up to the field on the jump."