“They’re right in the foreground, AS ALWAYS,” retorted Marjorie. “I’m neither old, nor a politician. Nothing has been fixed for my candidate. Yes; I’ll admit I have one,” she declared in answer to Jerry’s comically questioning glance. “Just the same, she can only succeed on her own merits. Giving her a chance to do that isn’t pulling strings for her.”
“I get you, Bean. I humbly apologize for any dark suspicions I may have entertained against you. You are a Bean of rare pulchritude, enterprise and integrity. You are not the only enterprising person on the campus, though. I hate to speak of myself, but—er-her-r, ahem!” Jerry loudly cleared her throat. “I’m a credit to the noble profession of the sleuth.” Her tone of raillery held an undernote of triumph. Her round face wore a victorious expression which Marjorie did not miss.
“What is it, Jeremiah? You’re brim full of something interesting. I know you’re aching to tell me. Do go ahead.”
“It’s about those two letters,” Jerry began abruptly. “I mean the two that were sent to you in the fall when the sophs were warring among themselves, and Gentleman Gus drew the class presidency.”
“I haven’t forgotten them,” Marjorie said dryly. “You said you’d find out all about them. Have you?” She gazed interestedly at Jerry. “Now I begin to understand why you were praising yourself,” she tacked on, with a teasing smile. “You’ll have just time to tell me before the dinner gong sounds. Go to it.” She dropped easily down upon her couch bed, eyes still intent on Jerry.
“You know, and so do I, that the sports committee letter was a fake. We decided that first thing. Well, I’ve not discovered who wrote it. I’m still suspicious of three different sets of girls on the campus. But I haven’t a shred of proof against any of them. Being an honorable sleuth I don’t prowl ignobly about the campus after my quarry. I set legitimate traps for ’em. I deduce in a scientific and marvelous manner. My methods are above reproach, but they take time.”
“So do your remarks,” Marjorie impolitely reminded. “The gong’s going to ring very, very soon.”
“Oh, is it? So glad you told me. My, but you are rude at times. This is one of ’em. Back to my subject. I never believed that Miss Walker wrote the letter to you signed with her name. I made up my mind to find out whether the handwriting was hers, but I failed to capture a specimen of her penmanship. I tried a half a dozen nice, lady-like little schemes. Not one worked. One day luck was with Jeremiah. I picked up a fine and fussy handkerchief, monogrammed, L.M.W.”
With one eye on the clock Jerry hurriedly recounted the writing of the note to Louise Walker and the subsequent mailing of it and the handkerchief to the sophomore.
“Here’s the answer. Found it in the bulletin board this P. M. Look at it. Next cast your eyes over this piece of bunk.” Jerry laid two unfolded letters on the study table for Marjorie to examine.