But not all the squad, for he detained Ted Ball and Chick and Bert. Mr. Lake and Mr. McFadden remained also, deep in a discussion. Mr. Cade straddled a bench and brought forth a voluminous document from a pocket. “Thought you’d be interested, Burton,” he said. “And you, too, Hollins. Ball knows about it.” Chick accepted the three sheets of paper, unfolded them and read, with Bert looking over his shoulder. The letter was addressed to Mr. Cade and ran as follows: “Some of the fellows on your team have been doing a lot of talking around town lately and giving secrets away right and left. The writer isn’t telling any names but if you don’t believe it look at the end and see. Some unscrupulous parties have given this information to the Kenly Hall football coaches and you’ll be in a mean jam if you use these plays and a lot more against them. They know more than a dozen of our best plays, formations, signals and so forth and I’m telling you this as a sympathizer so you won’t get caught napping and try those plays and so forth on Kenly. It’s rotten business, Mr. Cade, and some one ought to be made to suffer, but you know how it is when people get a chance of making a little money. Take the advice of a well-wisher and don’t try the plays you were intending to use because you’ll get licked hard if you do. Kenly Hall is hep to the whole works and is looking for those plays. I would sign my name only the fellows who are doing this dirty trick would make it hot for me if they knew I had squealed. Yours for Fair Play, and best wishes for success, “UNKNOWN.” Followed two sheets on which were drawn, rather neatly, three football plays, among them Number 14. There were one or two minor inaccuracies, but any one familiar with such matters could easily have fathomed the diagrams. Chick handed the documents back, looking questioningly at Mr. Cade. “What are you going to do, sir?” he asked anxiously. “We’re going to use the plays; that is, that 14; the others are already discarded, you know. The whole business is a bluff, just as we suspected. You can read that in every line.” “Gee, I hope so!” muttered Chick. “Aren’t you going to do anything to Devore, sir?” “N-no, not exactly.” Mr. Cade smiled. “It may comfort you to know, however, that Joe Manter--I mentioned Joe, didn’t I?--has covered the money put up by Mr. Devore’s--er--syndicate. About two hundred dollars, I believe. Joe got odds of four to five.” “You mean he’s bet two hundred dollars that we’ll win?” asked Chick incredulously. The coach nodded. “About a hundred and seventy, I believe. I don’t know how much of the two hundred belongs to Devore, but if Kenly loses he’s bound to be unpopular around town for awhile!” “A hundred and seventy’s a good deal of money for a newspaper reporter to have,” observed Bert. Mr. Cade met his gaze and nodded gravely.