Mr. Driscoll shook his head. “I agreed not to bring him into it, Bates. There’s no reason why I should. He has, I guess, no wish to appear in the rôle of a spy. He found this evidence and handed it over to me as it was his duty to. I wish----” He fell silent, frowning at the two scraps of paper. Then: “Are you a rapid writer, Bates?” he asked. “Not very, I guess.” The coach took a pad of paper from the desk beside him and a fountain pen from his pocket. “Suppose you write what I tell you to on that,” he said. Dick laid the pad on his knee and waited. “Ready? Write ‘Massachusetts Academy Kenwood,’ please.” Dick wrote and the coach accepted the result and viewed it intently. Then he shook his head. “Your K and your A aren’t like the others, Bates, but there’s a certain similarity. Honestly, I don’t know what to think. I want to believe you, my boy, but this--this evidence is rather convincing. Look here, can you prove to my satisfaction that this letter was intended for this friend in Loganville and not meant for someone at Kenwood?” “Leonardville, sir. I don’t know. I can get Sumner to write to you and say that I sent him a letter containing what you read there, although worded differently, probably, and some other letters like I’ve told you. Would that do?” “It would certainly help. Hang it, Bates, you must see yourself that the thing looks bad!” “Yes, sir, I guess it does,” agreed Dick dispiritedly. “All I can say is that it was done thoughtlessly and that I’ve never had any correspondence with Kenwood. Why should I want to give away our plays to Kenwood, Mr. Driscoll?” “I don’t know, Bates. You’ve worked hard and made good and I don’t believe you’re the sort of fellow that would do a dishonourable act. You have been careless and thoughtless, but I’d like mightily to believe that your account of it is right. If you’ll wire to this fellow White----” “Why, he’s coming here Saturday, sir! I just remembered! Would it do if we waited and--and talked to him?” “Coming here? Of course it would! That’s fine! But how does it happen that he’s coming to Warne?” Dick somewhat shamefacedly explained and the coach smiled at his embarrassment. “Well, it seems that you’re more of a hero than I suspected, Bates,” he said quite in his usual manner. “I had heard something about it, too, of late.” He added that with a twinkle, and Dick smiled ruefully. “That was a beastly joke of Wallace Blashington’s sir. He--he heard somehow about--about this and thought he’d have some fun with me.”