“Sentence has been passed, so far as I’m concerned,” answered Willard. Martin stared. Then:
“What do you mean?” he demanded anxiously.
“I mean that I’ve just come from a fine moment with Doctor McPherson. That Principal over there, Handley or whatever his silly name is, has written to the Doctor, and sent that clue along, too.”
“Wow!” muttered Martin awedly. “Wha—what was the clue?”
“My handkerchief.”
“Good night!”
“And sweet dreams,” added Willard ironically.
“What did he say?” asked Martin after a moment of painful thought. Willard shrugged.
“He said a lot! He wasn’t so bad, though. I’ll have to say that for him. I’m on hall bounds until the faculty gets together and decides whether I’m to be boiled in oil or merely drawn and quartered. You fellows may get by all right, though. I’m the only one they’re sure of so far. Why the dickens didn’t someone say that that brick wall was the Principal’s?”