CHAPTER VIAN INTERCEPTED LETTER
Promptly at 10:30 o’clock the following morning the delegates assembled in the back parlor of the hotel, which had been reserved for the convention. The folding doors which connected it with the front parlor were closed, and the meeting was called to order by Ernest Fitch, the president of the League.
The officers of the Berkshire were chosen in the following manner: at the close of each session a convention was held for the special purpose of awarding the Crimson Banner to the victorious college, and to elect officers for the succeeding year. The plan was therefore quite similar to that adopted by the several colleges in choosing the officers for their association. In the case of the League, the president was chosen from the victorious college, and the secretary from the college that held second place. Neither of these officers, however, was to be a member of the nines of the respective colleges. According to this custom, therefore, Park College had the presidency in the present season, and Halford College the secretaryship.
The meeting was not very lengthy, since only the usual matters came up for discussion, and they weredisposed of quite readily, and without much controversy. First we decided what kind of a ball we should use, and in this we favored a well known firm in New York. A few unimportant changes were made in the rules, two or three professional umpires were selected, and finally the schedule of games was arranged. According to this schedule Belmont College was listed to play championship games on the second, third, and fourth Saturdays in May, and with her opponents in the following order: first, Dean College; second, Park College; and third, Halford College.
This completed the business of the meeting, which occupied about two hours, so that when we adjourned it was approaching one o’clock, and time to prepare for lunch.
During the meal Tony Larcom looked over his time table.
“We can easily catch the 2:30 train,” he said to Ray. “What do you say to going back home?”
“By all means,” answered Ray. “I see no object in hanging around here any longer.”
Accordingly we finished our lunch leisurely, and then repaired to the piazza, where we sat down for a few moments, awaiting the time to start for the station.
Suddenly Tony Larcom clapped Ray on the arm.
“Our valises!” he exclaimed.
Ray and he rose together and reëntered the hotel.As I was talking at that moment with Slade, I did not accompany them, but called out,
“Bring down my valise, too, will you, Tony?”
Tony called back an assent, and I continued in conversation.
“You have quite a bruise on your head, Mr. Elder. Did you get hit with a ball?” asked Slade, examining my forehead.
“No,” I answered; “I was kicked in the head by some one running over me—at least, I think so, though it was late at night, and too dark for me to be sure.”
As we continued to talk about the matter, Slade said in a low tone, looking over my shoulder,
“Somebody is very much interested in you, I think.”
I turned sharply around, to encounter the full, steady stare of a young fellow about my own age, who had been standing about three feet behind me.
He lowered his eyes, and at once passed into the hotel.
I looked after him curiously.
“Who is he?” I asked.
“I don’t know,” responded Slade. “I think he is a Park College fellow; at least, he came into town this morning with quite a crowd of students from the college. He was fairly devouring you with his eyes when I spoke.”
“Well, I hope it will do him good, though I don’t see why he——” Here I was interrupted by Tony,who came out quickly and thrust my valise into my hand.
“Come on,” he said. “We must hurry.”
As I turned to shake hands with Slade, I saw the fellow who had attracted our attention standing in the doorway still gazing fixedly at me, but the moment my eyes met his he turned and walked away.
“And now,” began Ray, when we were seated in the train, “we must make up our nine without delay. It will be an embarrassment of riches and no easy task to choose, I think, for we have some mighty fine players on the class nines. Suppose you come to my room to-night just after dinner, and we will make a start. Of course there are some men who stand no chance, and would only be in the way, so the best plan, I think, is to select from the class nines twenty of the likely men, and invite them to compete for the ’Varsity. We can post this list on the bulletin board Monday morning, and get down to practice without delay.”
This seemed an excellent idea, and so, when we arrived at Belmont, we separated at the station with the understanding that we three were to meet at Ray’s room early that evening.
Immediately after dinner I went to the post office to obtain any letters that might have arrived during the day. Nothing but a newspaper from home was in my box, so, on receiving this, I was about to walk away when I heard a familiar voice, and, turningaround, I saw Ray Wendell in conversation with the postmaster.
As I came up and took hold of his arm, the postmaster was saying,
“I really don’t see how I can help you, Mr. Wendell. If your letter arrived—and I have no doubt it did—it was properly looked after. We make no mistakes. I do not, of course, remember every letter, but I have quite a firm recollection of such a letter as you describe—in a pink envelope—and it was given to Ridley to deliver.”
Ridley was the young colored boy who carried the mail for the occupants of Warburton Hall.
“Well,” answered Ray, “then I’ll have to question Ridley.”
“That is the most likely quarter to find the mistake,” said the postmaster. “Perhaps he delivered it to the wrong party, or dropped it.”
Ray turned away.
“Hullo, Harry,” said he to me. “You see, I am tracing up that letter. I’d give anything to know where the blame lies.”
“Probably on Ridley, as the postmaster suggests,” I responded. “You know he is nothing but a small boy, and liable to be careless at times.”
“Well, we will see. Come on over to my room,” and Ray linked his arm in mine.
When we reached the entrance to Warburton Hall, Ray went to the head of the stairs that led down into the cellar, and called into the darkness,
“Hullo, Ridley!”
After repeated calls, there was a sound in the regions below. First came the hollow clang of an iron shovel, then the crash of a coal scuttle, and the noise of scattering coal, accompanied by muttered exclamations of a character that betokened disaster. Finally, out of the cellar, and as black as the darkness he left behind him, came the unlucky Ridley, his coat off, his woolen shirt torn, and rubbing his shins where they had come to grief against the coal scuttle. He looked like a veritable imp of the night as he stood there in the glare of the single gas jet that lighted the hallway. Ray looked at him with mock severity.
“Ridley!” he exclaimed.
The boy looked at Ray beseechingly, shifted uneasily from foot to foot, and finally, unable to withstand Ray’s fixed gaze, he snuffled violently.
“I ain’t dun nuffin,” he mumbled.
“That remains to be seen,” said Ray, with a half smile, as he took the boy by the ear. “Now, Ridley, listen to me. Do you remember that very rainy Wednesday of last week?”
“Yes, sah.”
“Do you remember getting the mail that morning?”
“Yes, sah.”
“Do you remember any letters for me that morning?”
“No, sah.”
“No letters for me?”
“Dere wan’t no letters for you that mawnin, sah.”
“Ridley!” exclaimed Ray, with real severity this time. “Therewasa letter for me in that mail. Now, what became of it?”
Ridley was growing more and more frightened, but no sign of guilt appeared on his ebony countenance.
“I’s tellin’ no lies, Mistah Wendell. I swar to golly I’s tellin’ no lies. Der wan’t no letter for you.”
“Are you sure you remember the mail?” asked Ray.
“Yes, sah, perfeckly.”
“Who had letters that morning?”
“Dere was only five or six letters. I didn’t look at ’em at de post offiss, but when I kem up to de door right here, Mistah—le’s see, who was it?—Mistah, Mistah, oh, Mistah Howard was standin’ by de doorway.”
“Howard was there, was he?”
“Yes, sah, an’ he sez, ‘Ridley, hev ye got de mail?’ an’ I sez, ‘Yes, sah,’ an’ he sez, ‘Let me look at it,’ an’ I gived de letters ter him——”
“You gave the letters to Howard that morning? Ridley, are you sure?” exclaimed Ray, letting go of the boy.
“Perfeckly. Mistah Howard took de letters, an’ he luks ’em over, an’ he sez, ‘Dese two is mine,’ an’ he gives me back de rest.”
“He kept two, did he? Well, did you see those letters?”
“No, sah, I didn’t see de names. He gived me backt’ree or four, and none ofdemwas fer you. I s’posed Mistah Howard unly kep’ his own letters.”
“And there were two of them?”
“Yes, sah, I knows dere was two; one was white an’ de udder pink.”
“What!” cried Ray. “You say one waspink?”
“Yes, sah. I remember dat letter well. I tuk notiss of it wen I got it at de post office, and when Mistah Howard gived me back de udder letters dat pink one was gone.”
Ray was silent for several minutes, his lips pressed firmly together. At length he said quietly.
“All right, Ridley. Much obliged to you. That will do.” Ridley disappeared down the cellar stairs, and Ray turned to me a long look of astonishment.
“Well, what—do—you—think—of that?” he asked slowly. I shook my head.
“And so Howard took that letter!” I exclaimed.
“So it seems,” Ray answered, “and I must say it takes my breath away. Whatever may have been said of Howard, I never thought him a petty thief.”
“Hold on, Ray Wendell!” cried a voice just behind us.
We both started and turned about.
Not six feet away stood Len Howard.
We were somewhat taken aback by this sudden and unexpected appearance of the very individual whose name was upon our lips. Silence reigned for several seconds.
At the first sound of Howard’s voice, Ray, like myself,had been startled. He quickly recovered himself, however, and looked Howard quietly and firmly in the face. The latter’s expression was angry and belligerent.
“Did I hear my name a few moments ago?” he asked.
“I have no doubt you did. Your name was mentioned,” Ray answered.
“And do I understand that you apply the name thief to me?”
“My words were quite plain, I think,” responded Ray.
“I think not. I think they need considerable explanation,” said Howard, moving a little nearer.
“That depends upon how much of our conversation you have heard,” answered Ray. “If you were here when I questioned Ridley a few moments ago, I hardly think any explanation is needed.”
It was evident that Howard had not overheard all that had been said.
“I don’t know anything about Ridley,” he rejoined in a louder tone of voice; “but I know that you have called me a thief, and I intend to have satisfaction for it.”
“Satisfaction!” echoed Ray, his lip curling.
“That’s what I said,” continued Howard, growing bolder and more threatening as he saw how quiet his opponent was. He made, however, a great mistake in taking Ray’s calmness of manner as an indication of timidity.
He coolly measured Howard from head to foot with a glance of contempt.
“Why, what do you mean, Howard, bysatisfaction?” he said. “You simply amaze me. You stoop low enough to rob my mail, and then, when you overhear me accusing you of the theft, you have the audacity to ask forsatisfaction! What right have you to satisfaction? It is I that want satisfaction. I am the one who was wronged.”
Howard winced perceptibly as the mail was mentioned, but by the time Ray had stopped speaking, he had entirely recovered himself, and seemed even angrier and more aggressive than before.
“Mail!” he burst out. “What mail have I robbed? What letters of yours have I taken? Ray Wendell, take care how you accuse me of stealing——”
Howard’s hardihood was exasperating to Ray. That he had taken the letter was beyond doubt, and now that he should stand there and boldly deny it was almost more than Ray’s patience could stand.
“There is nothing to be gained by dodging in this manner, Howard,” he said. “You understand me perfectly. You know that you took from Ridley last week that letter which I and the college had been expecting from Slade, relating to the date of the convention. What your reasons may have been I can only guess, but that you robbed my mail is beyond question.”
“It’s an infernal lie!” shouted Howard, closing hisfists threateningly, “and I’ll make you eat your words, I’ll make you——”
“You’ll dowhat?” exclaimed Ray, his eyes flashing.
“I’ll teach you not to accuse me of stealing,” he went on fiercely. “Why, what do you suppose I should want with your paltry letters?”
“Never mind discussing the reasons,” cried Ray, his temper now well up. “I say you stole that letter.”
“And I say you are a liar——”
The words had barely escaped Howard’s lips when Ray leaped forward and seized him by the throat.