THE ANONYMOUS LETTER
"Have you seen the _News_?" gasped Jimmie Lee, bursting into the room of
Joe and his chum one afternoon, following some baseball practice. "It's
great!"
"You mean have we _heard_ the news; don't you?" questioned Spike. "You
can hear news, but not see it, that is unless the occurrence which makes
news happens to come under your own observation. Where is your logic,
you heathen? _Seen_ news!"
"Yes, that's what I mean!" snapped Jimmie. "I mean have you seen the
last copy of the Yale _News_?"
"No; what is it?" asked Joe quickly. "Something about the baseball
nine?"
"No, it's about those musty old manuscripts that got spoiled the time
Professor Hardee slipped on his doorsteps in the red paint."
"What about 'em?" demanded Joe, thinking of the time he had seen Weston
slipping into his room, trying to conceal his hand on which was a
scarlet smear. "What's new?"
"Why, it seems that some learned high-brow society wrote on to borrow
them, to prove or disprove something that happened in the time of Moses,
and they had to be refused as the sheepskins are illegible. The powers
that be tried to clean off the paint, but it took some of the lettering
with it, and Prof. Hardee and some of his friends are wild over the
loss. The _News_ says it's irreparable, and there's even an editorial on
it."
"Well, that isn't much that's new," went on Joe, as he took the college
paper which Jimmie held out to him. "It was known before that the
parchments were pretty well on the blink. It's a shame, too, for they
are the only ones in the world of that particular dynasty. What else?"
"Lots," went on Jimmie. "The _News_ hints that a committee of Seniors is
working with Professor Hardee and some of the faculty, trying to find
out who was responsible. If they do find out they may make the joker's
folks pay heavy damages."
"Yes, if they find out," put in Spike. "But it happened some time ago,
and they haven't got a hint of it yet. It was a mean trick--I'll say
that--but there are no welchers or squealers at Yale."
"I'm not so sure of that," murmured Jimmie.
"What do you mean?" asked Joe quickly.
"Why this screed goes on to hint that the investigators have a line on
who did it. They have some clews, it seems, and an exposure is hinted
at."
"Get out!" cried Joe, thinking of the effect it would have on Weston
should the truth--as Joe thought it--come out. He had half made up his
mind to deny everything he had seen, even if questioned.
"That's right," asserted Jimmie. "This article says it may soon be known
who did the 'dastardly deed'--note the 'dastardly'--guess the editor
dipped his pen in sulphuric acid. But it was a mean trick, and I guess
we all feel the same way about it. The fellow who did it ought to be
fired. Fun is fun, and I like it as much as anybody, but this passes the
limits."
"Right!" exclaimed Spike. "But does it say anything about who it might
be--what class?"
"Oh, it as much as says a Freshman did it, of course--as if we did
everything last year. Anyhow, it's stirred up a lot of talk, I can tell
you. I just came across the campus and the _News_ sold more copies than
ever before, I guess. Everyone seems to have one, and they're all
talking about it. I hope if they do find out who did it, that he won't
happen to be any of our crowd--or on the ball nine."
"Why?" asked Spike.
"Why--he'd be expelled, of course, and if it was one of the 'varsity
nine it might have a bad effect on winning the championship. We've got
to win that this year."
"Oh, I guess it's mostly talk," asserted Spike, as he read the article
after Joe had finished. As for Joe he said little. But he thought much.
"Maybe," agreed Jimmie. "And yet it looks as if there was something back
of it all. I only hope there isn't. It would be tough for our class to
have to stand for this."
There was more talk along the same line, and, a little later, some other
of the second-year class dropped in and continued the session. There
were differences of opinion, as might have been expected.
"Well, after all is said and done," came from Bert Fost, who by reason
of weight was ineligible for the nine, but who was an enthusiastic
supporter, "when it's all over, I think we'll wipe Amherst off the map."
"We will--if the nine isn't broken up," declared Jimmie.
"Broken up--what do you mean?" and Bert glared at the questioner.
"I mean that if it's proved that some member of the team did this red
paint business it's all off with him having a chance to play against
Amherst."
"Oh, piffle!" declared Bert. "That punk is written by some lad who's
trying to make good on the _News_ so he'll get tapped for Scroll and
Keys. Forget it."
But it was not so easily forgotten, for the article seemed to have some
definite knowledge behind it, and the editorial, though
student-inspired, as all knew, was a sharp one.
"If it really is Weston I'm sorry for him," thought Joe, little thinking
how near he himself was to danger.
There were new developments the next morning--a certain something in the
air as the young men assembled for chapel told that there was about to
be a break. And it came.
"Here comes the Dean!" the whisper went round, when the exercises were
nearly over. "Something's going to be cut loose."
The Dean addressed the students. He began mildly, but soon he had almost
worked himself up to a dramatic situation. In veiled terms he referred
to the red paint outrage, and then, after telling what it meant to have
the valuable manuscripts ruined, he added:
"I assume that you have all seen the article which appears in the
college paper. With that, though I might, I take no issue. On another
phase I do.
"I have received an anonymous letter, accusing a certain student of the
outrage. I shall, in this matter, take the course I always do when I
receive such a cowardly communication as an anonymous letter--I destroy
it unread," and, as he spoke the Dean tore into fragments a piece of
paper. The pieces he carefully put in his pocket, however, with the
remark that they would be consigned to the fire unlooked at, as soon as
possible.
"I wonder who was accused?" said Spike.
"I wonder?" added Joe.