“I think he will explain this evening or to-morrow,” said Merriwell soothingly. “Meanwhile we’ve got to make the best of it and learn the new signals.” “That’s well enough for you,” replied Simms bitterly. “You haven’t got to have the whole thing at the end of your tongue to-morrow. If I make a mistake I’ll get blamed for it.” “Then don’t make any mistakes,” answered Merriwell quietly. Simms stared at him a moment, outraged, and finally said, “Humph!” and relapsed into silence. But Coach Payson didn’t explain that evening, or ever; at least, not to the team at large. After the evening’s session, however, he and Merriwell and Davis went over to the captain’s room, and there the only member of the trio who was in ignorance of the reason for the eleventh-hour change, Manager Davis, was enlightened. “Now,” said Payson, when they were seated, “let’s see those papers, Davis.” One by one he looked them over, comparing each with a much-creased sheet of buff paper which he extracted from his bill-book and laid beside him. Davis looked on curiously. Now and then Payson paused as he turned the papers over and glanced doubtfully at the buff sheet. Finally, when he had reached almost the bottom of the pile, he said “Hm!” very softly. A second sheet of buff paper was in front of him and he was studying it attentively. Presently, as though satisfied, he handed it to Captain Merriwell, following it with the creased sheet. The latter had been folded several times and was soiled, as though it had passed through many hands. Merriwell, frowning, compared one sheet with the other. Finally he nodded. “I can’t believe, though, that he’d do a thing like that, sir,” said Merriwell troubledly. “I can scarcely believe it myself,” replied the coach, “but there is the evidence. Show them to Davis. Davis, should you say that those two diagrams had been made by the same person?” “Certainly,” replied the manager after a brief survey of them. “There can’t be any doubt of that, can there?” He looked at the name written in the corner of the fresher sheet. “But when did Burtis do this other one, sir?” “That’s what we don’t know. Have you got that letter there, Merriwell?” For reply Merriwell opened a drawer in the table, searched a moment and then handed a folded sheet of writing paper across to Perky. The latter opened it and read as follows: “MR. CHARLES MERRIWELL, “Yardley Hall School, “Wissining, Ct. “Dear Sir: