"All right," he agreed. "I'll get my car, and we'll go over to Wimbledon to-morrow afternoon. You 'phone him in the meantime, Aleck, and make an appointment for him to meet us at the hotel. We'll give him a swell supper and then we'll take him for a ride. Then we'll spring the thing on him and try to put it over." The next afternoon the four conspirators rode over to Wimbledon in Sandy's sporty car and put up at the hotel. They had to wait awhile for their expected guest, who arrived a little later, and somewhat breathlessly apologized for being late, explaining that he had had some work to do at the school. As they already knew from Aleck Anderson that he aided the janitor at times, they understood. Bill Sykes was a muscular, stocky individual, a good football player and captain of the eleven. That money was scarce with him, however, was evident from his worn and shabby coat and the trousers that were frayed at the bottom. It was plain that he had hard work to get along. Aleck greeted him cordially. "Hello, Bill!" he said, as they shook hands. "How's tricks?" "Oh, so-so," answered Bill. "Plenty of hard work and little to show for it." "A little easy work and a good deal to show for it would be better, would it?" laughed Aleck. "Well, perhaps we can put you in the way of it. I want you to meet my friends," and he introduced his companions. Sandy was especially effusive. No business, though, till after supper, had been the decision, so he said: "Let's go in and get a swell feed and take a little ride afterward." The supper was an especially good one, and in paying for it Sandy ostentatiously displayed a considerable roll of bills. This, together with the natty car, produced an impression on Bill Sykes, who seldom saw money in quantity. Following the meal they rode out on the country roads, and when they came to a secluded, quiet spot Sandy drew the car off the side of the road and stopped. "Like to make a little coin, Bill?" he asked without further preamble. "Who wouldn't!" answered Bill Sykes. "That's right," returned Sandy. "It's what we're all after. Well, I think I can show you how to do it and at the same time do your school a good turn." "Just what do you mean?" asked Sykes, puzzled. "It's this way," explained Sandy. "You want to see Wimbledon lick Lenox, don't you?" "Of course I do," replied Bill. "So do I," Sandy spat out venomously. "Lick the tar out of her!" "It won't be any cinch though," observed Bill. "It would be a cinch though, wouldn't it, if you knew the Lenox signals?" CHAPTER XXII The Stolen Signals Bill Sykes sat up with a jerk, while Sandy and his companions watched him narrowly. "If we could get the Lenox signals!" he exclaimed. "Of course it would be a cinch. But how on earth could we get them? They hold them tighter than a miser grips a dollar." "I've got them right here in my pocket," replied Sandy, tapping his coat.