“George Tubb, sir. He’s on the First Team. We had—he thought I did something to him intentionally when we were playing one day.”
“And you didn’t?”
“Not intentionally, sir.”
“And you’re certain the fellow who pummeled you was not Tubb?”
“Yes, sir. Tubb is thin, and this fellow was thickish and had red—had hair like Tucker’s.”
“I see. Have you found any one, Tucker, who can confirm what you told me yesterday as to your presence in your room between nine and half-past?”
“No, sir, there isn’t any one.” Frick allowed himself the luxury of a grin while the Principal was not looking, but it didn’t last long. It still hurt him to move his mouth.
“Well, I don’t know,” said the Principal finally in tones almost as helpless as Toby’s. “It sounds to me as if there might be what you fellows would call a ‘catch’ in this business, but on the evidence I don’t see but what I’ll have to hold you responsible, Tucker. If you know anything bearing on the matter that you haven’t told me I think it would be well to mention it, because, to be frank with you, I consider this attack on Frick a particularly brutal and underhand affair meriting severe punishment.”
Toby blinked but was silent. After a moment the Principal turned toward Frick again. “From what you have told me I think it would be well for you to be a little more careful in the future of your behavior toward your fellows. I’m afraid you have a faculty for making trouble, my boy. Should anything more of this sort reach my ears I shall be strongly inclined to hold you partly to blame. That’s all for now. Good morning.”
Frick withdrew and the Doctor removed his glasses and polished them deliberately and thoughtfully. At last, replacing them, he asked gently: “Do you know who attacked Frick, Tucker?”