“Put it in my pocket and went out to answer it. I had permission from the proctor.”
“That is right,” assented that official. “But I did not see you come in.”
“No, I was late. The telegraph office was not open, and I had to rouse the operator.”
“When did you last see this telegram?” asked the doctor.
“I missed it soon after I started, but I concluded that I had dropped it,” said Joe. Then it all came to him. The school authorities believed that the telegram had dropped out of his pocket when he was at the work of overturning the statue, in which vandalism he had no hand.
“It was picked up near where the vile work went on,” said the doctor bitterly. “It is evidence that even if you had no actual hand in the dastardly horseplay, that you might have witnessed it, and you can tell us who did it. That is what we now call on you to do, Matson. Tell us who did it.”
“But I don’t know!” cried poor Joe. “I didn’t see anything of it. I got in a little late, and went at once to my room. That telegram may have dropped from my pocket at any time, someone may have picked it up and put it—I mean dropped it—as they were passing the statue—either before or after it was pulled from the base.”
“That is hardly likely,” said the doctor. “I am very sorry, Matson, but I must conclude that even if you had no hand in the vandalism, that you know who did it, or suspect.”
“But I don’t!” cried Joe eagerly. “Someone may have put this telegram there to make it look——”