As for Catherwood, he had not been commanded to appear before the faculty. Indeed, of what transpired at that momentous meeting he never knew; that is to say, definitely, but every one learned, in a general way, something of the wordy resolutions that were passed and the learned opinions that were there put forth, all of which tended to no purpose save to obscure more thickly, rather than illumine more brilliantly, the strange affair. The dean presided--a large man with reddish hair and pleasant eyes and a jerky, nervous manner. Inasmuch as it was assistant professor Lowe who had found Catherwood, gagged and tied, that _savant_ was asked to give his opinion, first. With much natural evasion of the subject, and a cloud of "ahs" and "aws," he explained as lucidly as his slow moving mind would permit how he had rushed into the room to discover his pupil stowed away upon the bed behind a barricade of chairs. "And, professor," inquired the dean, "you can throw no light upon the case; you have learned nothing--that is to say--oh--ah--nothing that might serve as a clue to the apprehension of the offenders?" The room became as still as the royal ante-chamber whilst the king dies beyond the arras. The assistant professor fumbled in his pockets and finally drew out the crumpled note that Catherwood had given him, which he offered the dean, meekly, as becomes a serf in the presence of his master. The dean pursed his lips and looked down at the sheet. "Oh--ah," he muttered. And then added, passing it back to the assistant professor, "I--oh--ah--make nothing out of this--nothing at all. It is very simple. It shows that Mr.--oh--ah--Catherwood was assaulted by two--two--persons. But, _that_, gentlemen, we already know. What we now wish to learn is: _Who were they?_" The assistant professor shook his head, wearily. "Yes, yes," he muttered. At this point an aged man at the rear of the room rose, and clearing his throat asked in a dry, metallic cackle: "Am I to understand that the young gentleman is a member of a fraternity?" It was quite apparent that no one appreciated clearly the significance of the old gentleman's question. The dean stared inquiringly over his glasses at the assistant professor of history. "He is not----" "He is not," echoed the dean. "Oh," cackled the old gentleman and sat down. His prejudice against fraternities was well known. Several of the younger men present, who wore their pins on occasion, glanced at one another and smiled. "It would--oh--ah--seem to me," began the dean, when he was interrupted by that dry, metallic cackle a second time. "Does he contemplate joining a fraternity?" "No," Lowe shouted. "Oh"--and the old gentleman sat down again. In the second row there rose a round, boy-faced man with a pompadour, who, after clearing his throat, began: