Then in a few words he told them how he had come to the Club a few mornings ago, and found it all upset, chairs broken, tables overturned, pictures torn down, ink spilled on the floor, and the rest of it. As the narration went on, the eyes of the boys got as big as saucers. If looks and gestures were significant, they told of surprise, disgust, condemnation. As he finished, Dick spoke:
"Father, that solves one mystery. We could not understand why you withdrew the McCormack treat, and took on so dreadfully. We know, now, and I for one want to beg your pardon for any feeling I had against you."
"Me, too!", "Me, too!", came from different parts of the room.
"That is one cloud rolled away, boys," said the priest. "May it be an augury that the others and bigger ones will vanish also. We are like travelers in the desert who often see things where they do not exist. Weary and exhausted caravans frequently have visions of trees and springs which lure them on, only to see them vanish in thin air. Scientists call it a mirage. Life, too, has its mirages."
"How strange," said Frank to himself, as they were leaving the room, "Bill and I used the same expression when we were talking together at the hospital."
The boys went home a pensive lot. But everyone of them was determined to solve the mystery.