“I used to pitch for Columbia, yes, and won many games for them up to the time you knocked me out. I’ve never got over being sore for that. Lots of times I’ve tried to get even. You know how. Sometimes I succeeded in giving you a jolt; but more times the shoe was on the other foot. This seems to be one of that sort. I never thought the old man had you with him all the time he was out of his den.” “But you haven’t answered my question--how would it profit you even if I was dropped from the team?” continued Frank, persistently. “Why, I had some hope that when the team was left without a pitcher enough influence might be brought to bear on the Head to let me take my old place in the box again. That’s all I did it for; Frank; I give you my word.” “I suppose you look at such things differently from the way others do; and perhaps you even now believe it wasn’t such a dirty trick after all. I’m just wondering whether I’d better accept an apology from you and let it go at that, or take the matter before Professor Parke.” Lef made a sudden movement of his hand, and the little tray was dumped from off the table, depositing its contents in a mass upon the floor. “What did you do that for?” demanded Frank. “Destroying the evidence, that’s all. I guess you’ll have some difficulty now about proving the ridiculous assertion you just made. Of course I never dreamed of playing such a mean trick as stealing that paper, and hiding it on you! And, Mr. Smarty, my word ought to be as good as yours, any day!” He thrust his face out as he spoke, in his usual disagreeable way, thinking he had played a clever trick on the other. “You’re wrong there. Although you’ve destroyed that little print you so kindly made me you can’t very well get rid of the original so easily,” said Frank, pointing down at the left hand of the other. And Lef fell back in sheer dismay. He had forgotten that it was the mark of his thumb to which Frank referred. “The professor could easily insist upon you convicting yourself by stamping another thumb-print alongside this one. He asked me if I wanted to have every fellow in Columbia make his mark, so that the right one could be found; and I told him I preferred going about it in my own way.” “Then--he knows?” asked Lef, in new alarm. “About the imprint on the paper, yes. He admitted that it was a possible way for identifying the one who had taken it out of his desk,” was Frank’s answer. “And you’ve got to tell him then?” with a groan, and a sinking of his head on his chest. “No, he said he’d leave that to me entirely; but that, if I succeeded, and gave him the proof he’d do the rest!” Like all cowards caught in their own toils, Lef was not beneath playing upon his emotions in order to secure immunity. To the surprise of Frank the other suddenly grasped his hand and there seemed to be a look of sincere agony on the face that was thrust close to his.