He caught sight of his brown-streaked and spotted face in the dresser mirror. "Cæsar!" he exclaimed, "that was a fine job!" Satisfied that a rescue had been accomplished in good time, the assistant professor said: "Sit down, Mr. Catherwood, and explain, if possible, the meaning of this--this hazing. I observed you were not present at the examination to-day." Mrs. Turner, who till now had stood by wringing her hands, commenced, with mechanical precision, to wrest order out of chaos in the room. From time to time during Catherwood's recital she stopped in her work long enough to voice an ejaculatory "oh," or exclaim--"Well, _I_ declare." "It is clearly a case of hazing--hazing of the most malicious sort," observed the assistant professor, "and as such merits the fullest investigation on the part of the faculty, which I have no doubt the faculty will undertake. Do you know your assailants, Mr. Catherwood?" "Yes--and no," the young man replied, rubbing a red and swollen wrist. "Why do you say that?" the assistant professor inquired, significantly. "I thought I did from the writing of the note I received yesterday afternoon----" "Ah--you received a note then?" "Yes--wait." Catherwood dove a hand into the inside pocket of his coat. "Here it is," he said, and held out to his questioner a crumpled bit of paper written in a hand obviously disguised. The assistant professor examined the writing closely. "This, Mr. Catherwood," he opined finally, "is, as you see, 'back-hand.' Moreover, it is quite clear to me that it was penned by some one who used his left hand, although he is, naturally, what we call 'right handed.'" The professor remembered his "The Count of Monte Cristo." "Ah----" At Catherwood's exclamation he looked up quickly. "That's why I could not identify it," the young man added. "But, Mr. Catherwood," the assistant professor continued, "isn't it rather odd that you did not see--did not recognize the two men who assailed you; for of course there were two--the note reads----" He looked down at the crumpled sheet again--"'We shall call at your room this evening.' Isn't it rather strange?" He awaited Catherwood's reply, calmly. "I think there was but one!" The assistant professor started. "_One!_" he exclaimed. "Why it is more mysterious than ever--and you didn't see him, Mr. Catherwood?" "No, sir, I did not." "You did not?" "No, sir...." "Well, _I_ declare," ejaculated Mrs. Turner. Mr. Lowe smoothed over the note and folded it. "I shall take this," he said--"that is, if you do not mind." "No--no--of course not----" "And, Mr. Catherwood," he added, "I am to assume, am I, that you can throw no light on this--on this most mysterious matter...?" At that instant a knock fell on the door. "Come in," Catherwood called. The door was pushed back and a young man with a note-book in his hand stood on the threshold.