“Who put it there?” asked Spike, and he looked queerly at Joe.
“Not I,” replied the pitcher. “And yet it’s fresh. I can’t understand. You say you heard someone in here, Ricky?”
“As sure as guns.”
“Maybe it was some of those pesky Freshies trying some of their funny work,” suggested Spike.
“Hazing and tricks are about over,” came from Joe, as he looked more closely at the red spot. “And yet someone seems to have been in here, daubing up my clothes. I wonder if they tried it on any more? Lucky it was an old suit.”
He looked in the closet, but the coat, with the crimson spot on the sleeve, seemed to be the only one soiled.
“I have it!” suddenly cried Spike.
“What, for cats’ sake?” asked Ricky.
“It’s good luck!”