"How do you know I put Tip up to that job?" demanded young Ripley, his face as white as chalk. "Did Tip tell you all about it?"
"Not a word."
"Then you don't know," cried Fred, in sudden triumph.
"If I didn't," grinned Dick, "you've just confessed it."
"You tricked me—-I mean it's a lie."
"No; it isn't, either," asserted Dick, coolly. "Though the second chap, in that mix-up in Stetson's alley one night, got away before I had time to recognize his face in the black darkness there, yet as I fell and grabbed for the chap's ankle, I noticed his trousers with the lavender stripe. I had seen those trousers on you before, Fred, and you're wearing them again at this minute."
Fred glanced downward, starting.
"You see," insisted the freshman, "there's no sense in denying that you put Tip up to the game that got him into the penitentiary."
"How many have you told this to?" demanded Fred, fright showing in his face.
"My chums suspect," Dick answered, frankly. "I'm pretty sure
I haven't told anyone else."