“That’s rather a hard pill to swallow, Burtis. How did you know that ‘they’ were going to do it?”
“I overheard them talking about it in the afternoon, sir.”
“Why didn’t you try to stop them then?”
“I—I didn’t know them well enough.”
Mr. Collins was plainly puzzled. Kendall looked as though he were telling the truth, but Mr. Collins had had many disillusionments in his time. He moved impatiently. “Burtis,” he said, “here are the clear facts of the case. I found you last night at almost eleven o’clock coming into the dormitory with an electric torch in your hand. This morning the flagpole is found daubed with green paint—the color of the Third Class, of which you are a member—and a paint pot and two brushes are found nearby. As circumstantial evidence that looks pretty conclusive, doesn’t it?”
Kendall sadly acknowledged that it did. It was his first encounter with Circumstantial Evidence and he was forced to own that Circumstantial Evidence was getting the better of him.
“Well,” resumed the Assistant Principal, “now you confess that you were aware of the project, that you were present, know the other participators—”
“Only by sight, sir!” interrupted Kendall.
“You mean that you don’t know their names?”
“Yes, sir! No, sir; I mean that I don’t!”