"Really Mr. Jarvis, you don't expect me to tell you our signals!"
laughed Dick, pretending to be unconcerned.
But Jarvis called off another signal and interpreted it.
"From your face I begin to feel sure that I'm reeling off the
right signals," pursued the Tottenville youth. "Now, I'll get
still closer to the point, Mr. Prescott."
From an inside pocket Jarvis drew forth four typewritten pages,
clamped together and neatly folded.
"Run your eye over these pages, Mr. Prescott, or as far as you
want to go."
As Dick read down the pages every vestige of color faded from
his face.
Here was Gridley's whole elaborate signal code, laid down in black
and white to the last detail. It was all flawlessly correct,
too.
"Mr. Jarvis," said Dick, looking up, "you've been a gentleman
in this matter. This is our signal code, signal for signal.
It's the code on which we relied for our chance to give your team
a thrashing on Saturday. I thank you for your honesty, sir."
"Why, I always have rather prided myself on a desire to do the
manly thing," smiled Captain Jarvis.
"May I ask how this came into your possession?" demanded Dick.
"It was in our family mail box, this morning, and I took it out
on my way to school," replied Jarvis. "You see, the heading on
the first sheet shows that the document purports to give the Gridley
signals."
"And it does give them, to a dot," groaned Prescott, paling again.
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