“Was it signed ‘Junius,’ and done up in a ball?” he asked, excitedly.

“Yes. Did you send it?”

“And was it in printed letters, so that nobody could tell the writing?”

“Yes. Do you know about it, I say?”

“No,” said Cresswell; “no more does anybody. Your chum’s had a letter from the ghost!”

“The what?”

“The Templeton ghost, my boy.”

“I don’t believe in ghosts,” said Dick.

“That’s all right. No more do I. But those who do, say its a bad sign to get a letter from ours. Forbes got one early last term.”

“Do you really mean—?” began Dick.