“Yes, sir.”

“You went with Outfield West?”

“Yes, sir.”

“What time did you return to your room?”

“At about a quarter to ten, sir.”

“You are certain as to the time?”

“I only know that I heard the down train whistle as I left Academy
Building.  I went right to my room, sir.”

“Was the door of Academy Building unlocked last night?”

“I don’t know.  I didn’t try it, sir.”

“What time did you leave Mr. Remsen’s house?”

“A few minutes after nine.”

“You came right back here?”

“Yes, sir.  We came as far as Academy Building, and West and Digbee went home.  I sat on the front steps here until I heard the whistle blow.  Then I went to my room.”

“Why did you sit on the steps, March?”

“I wasn’t sleepy; and the moon was coming out—­and—­I wanted to think.”

“Do you hear from home very often?”

“Once or twice a week, sir.”

“When did you get a letter last, and from whom was it?”

“From my mother, about three days ago.”

“Have you that letter?”

“Yes, sir.  It is in my room.”

“You sometimes carry your letters in your pocket?”

“Why, yes, but not often.  If I receive them on the way out of the building I put them in my pocket, and then put them away when I get back.”

“Where do you keep them?”

“In my bureau drawer.”

“It is kept locked?”

“No, sir.  I never lock it.”

“Do you remember what was in that last letter?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Was any one mentioned in it?”

“Yes, sir.  Mr. Remsen was mentioned.  And Outfield West, and my brother, and father.”

“Is this your letter?” Professor Wheeler extended it across the desk, and Joel took it wonderingly.

“Why, yes, sir.  But where—­I don’t understand—!” Again he looked toward Professor Durkee in bewilderment.

“Nor do I,” answered that gentleman dryly.

“March,” continued the principal, as he took the letter again, “this was found this morning, after the accident, on the floor of the bell tower.  Do you know how it came there?” Joel’s cheeks reddened and then grew white as the full meaning of the words reached him.  His voice suddenly grew husky.

“No, sir, I do not.”  The words were spoken very stoutly and rang with sincerity.  A silence fell on the room.  Professor Wheeler glanced inquiringly at Professor Durkee, and the latter made a grimace of impatience that snarled his homely face into a mass of wrinkles.

“Look here, boy,” he snapped, “who do you think dropped that letter there?”

“I can’t think, sir.  I can’t understand it at all.  I’ve never been in the tower since I’ve been in school.”

“Do you know of any one who might like to get you into trouble in such a way as this?”

“No, sir,” answered Joel promptly.  Then a sudden recollection of Bartlett Cloud came to him, and he hesitated.  Professor Durkee observed it.