"To sell out one's school---I should say 'yes'!" choked Darrin.

"No; I meant that it is a fearful thing to accuse anyone until
we have proof that can't be disputed," added Mr. Morton gravely,
though his muscles were twitching as though he had been stricken
by palsy.

"Listen," begged Dick, "while Mr. Jarvis tells you all he knows
of this dastardly business."

The Tottenville captain repeated his short tale. Then Coach Morton
asked several rapid questions. But there was no more to be told
than Dick Prescott already knew.

"I'm tremendously sorry about that envelope," protested Jarvis.
"I'd give anything to be able to hand that envelope over to you,
but I'm afraid I'll never see it again."

"We appreciate your anxiety to help, Mr. Jarvis, as deeply as
we appreciate your manliness in coming to us without an instant's
delay," replied Mr. Morton, earnestly.

At this moment the office boy entered with the mail sack.

"Mr. Pollock!" he bellowed, tossing the sack down on the editor's
desk. Then the office boy hurried to the rear of the building,
intent on other duties.

Mr. Pollock returned to his desk, opening the mail. The football
folks in the further corner lowered their voices almost to whispers.