But the thing which the principal and teachers considered the bigger crime—­the cutting of the wires at the back of the stage—­was still a mystery.  Joe’s and Abraham’s complicity in the statue affair furnished them with a complete alibi in regard to the other.  It was proven, beyond a doubt, that they had not been in the building in the early part of the afternoon nor after they had carried off the statue, until after the wires had been cut.  Then who had cut the wires?  That was the question that agitated the school.  It was too big a piece of vandalism to let slip.  The principal, Mr. Jackson, was determined to run down the offender.  Joe and Abraham denied all knowledge of the affair and there was no clue.  The whole school was up in arms about the matter.

Then things took a rather unexpected turn.  In one of the teachers’ meetings where the matter was being discussed, one of the teachers, Mr. Wardwell, suddenly got to his feet.  He had just recollected something.  “I remember,” he said, “seeing Dorothy Bradford coming out of the electric room late on the afternoon of the play.  She came out twice, once about three o’clock and once about four.  Each time she seemed embarrassed about meeting me and turned scarlet.”  There was a murmur of surprise among the teachers.  Nyoda sat up very straight.

The next day Hinpoha was summoned to the office.  Unsuspectingly she went.  She had been summoned before, always on matters of more or less congenial business.  She found Mr. Jackson, Mr. Wardwell and Nyoda together in the private office.

“Miss Bradford,” began Mr. Jackson, without preliminary, “Mr. Wardwell tells me he saw you coming out of the electric room on the afternoon of the play.  In view of what happened that night, the presence of anybody in that room looks suspicious.  Will you kindly state what you did in there?”

Nyoda listened with an untroubled heart, sure of an innocent and convincing reason why Hinpoha had been in that room.  Hinpoha, taken completely by surprise, was speechless.  To Nyoda’s astonishment and dismay, she turned fiery red.  Hinpoha always blushed at the slightest provocation.  In the stress of the moment she could not think of a single worth-while excuse for having gone into the electric room.  Telling the real reason was of course out of the question because she had promised to shield Emily Meeks.

“I left something in there,” she stammered, “and went back after it.”

“You carried nothing in your hands either time when you came out,” said Mr. Wardwell.

Hinpoha was struck dumb.  She was a poor hand at deception and was totally unable to “bluff” anything through.  “I didn’t say I carried anything out,” she said in an agitated voice.  “I went in after something and it—­wasn’t there.”

“What was it?” asked Mr. Jackson.

“I can’t tell you,” said Hinpoha.

“How did you happen to leave anything in the electric room?” persisted Mr. Jackson.  “What were you doing in there in the first place?”