The colonel had arrived at home late, having remained at the academy looking over some examination papers.
This is what his eyes rested on, and why he exclaimed and stared:
Colonel Gunn: The scandalous doings of some of your students is the limit. They drink and gamble right under your nose, and you don’t know it. If you want proof, go down to the Pavilion right now. You will find Chip Merriwell there, intoxicated, so much so that he can’t get back to the barracks. There has been a drinking bout down there, which has lasted ever since Fardale let out its students for the day. When the others left the Pavilion, they had to leave Merriwell there because he couldn’t walk. You ought to know about this.
A Fardale Well-wisher.
Colonel Gunn did not like anonymous communications. But here was something he could not overlook. It called for attention and action.
He rang for the servant.
“Mary,” he said, his voice hoarse and shaky, “will you—er—be kind enough to inform me where you—ahum—got this singular note which you brought me?”
“At the dure,” said Mary; “a b’y brought it. He said it was fer you, and I’m sure yere name was on it.”
“My name was on it—very true. Ahem—you did not recognize the boy?”
“I niver saw his face befure.”