"Fortunately,
Mr. Decker thought to preserve the envelope that contained our
signal code. Here is the envelope, addressed in some person's
handwriting."
Coach Morton seized the envelope, staring at it hard. He studied
it with the practiced eye of a school teacher accustomed to overlooking
examination papers in all styles of handwriting.
"The writer has tried to conceal his handwriting," murmured the
coach, rather brokenly. "Yet I think we may succeed in tracing
it back and fixing it on the sender."
"Oh!" growled Dave Darrin savagely. "I believe I know on whom
to fasten this handwriting right now."
"I have a possible offender in mind," replied Mr. Morton more
evenly. "In a case of this kind we must proceed with such absolute
caution and reserve that we will not be obliged to retract afterwards
in deep shame and humiliation."
"I think I've done all that I can, gentlemen," broke in Mr. Jarvis.
"I think it is my place, now, to draw out of this painful business,
and leave it to you whom it most concerns. But I am happy in
the thought that I have been able to be of some service to you.
I will now state that I am authorized to offer to postpone Saturday's
game, if you wish, so that you may have time in, which to train
up under changed signals."
"If you consent, sir," proposed Dick, turning to the coach, "we'll
go on with Saturday's game just the same. There has been a big
sale of tickets, the band has been engaged, and a good many arrangements
made that will be expensive to cancel.
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