“But I can’t understand where this message came from,” Phil was saying to Tom and Sid a few hours later in their room. “Jove, but it almost knocked me out when I got it! But I knew I had to play the game.” He was examining the telegram he had first received.
“Let’s see that message,” said Sid, and he scanned it closely. “That’s a fake!” he said suddenly.
“A fake!” repeated Tom and Phil.
“Yes. There’s no check number on it. No message is ever sent out without a check number on it. This never came over the wire. Some one got hold of a receiving blank and an envelope, and played this brutal trick. Maybe it was one of the Boxer Hall fellows. He wanted to get your nerve, so you’d drop out of the game.”
“I don’t believe it was a Boxer Hall chap,” said Phil.
“Then it was some one who had a grudge against you,” insisted Sid. “We can inquire at the telegraph office and find out, maybe.”
Tom uttered an exclamation. He had suddenly thought of the mysterious warning he had received. Quickly he brought out the torn pieces of paper. He saw it all now. The warning had been intended to cover the telegram—not a physical danger, but a mental one. Rapidly he explained how he got the note.
“I didn’t say anything to you, Phil,” he concluded, “because I was—I was afraid you’d laugh at me. And I kept my eyes open in the game.”