“I think so,” nodded the physician.  “You can help.  Turn on that electric fan and place your friend’s uniform overcoat where the fan will play upon it.  That will drive away most of the smell of alcohol.”

“Alcohol?” mumbled Dan wonderingly.

“Don’t try to think, now, Mr. Dalzell,” ordered the physician.  “Mr. Darrin will explain to you later.”

Dan lay on the lounge, the physician keeping a finger on his pulse.  Presently the man of medicine gave Dan another drink of restorative.  “Now, get up and walk to the back of the room with me,” commanded the physician.  “Here, I’ll throw this window up.  Now, take in as deep breaths as you can.”

Dave, in the meantime, was standing near fan attending to driving the fumes from his friend’s coat.

A few minutes later Dr. Stewart gave Dalzell a third draught.  Dan was now recovering steadily from his mental numbness.

“You can take your friend away safely, now,” declared Dr. Stewart, at last.  “He can thank a strong constitution for recovering so quickly under treatment.”

“Shall I take him near the gate in a cab, or walk him there?” asked Darrin.

“It will bring about his recovery more completely if he walks.”

“Pardon me for a moment, then, and I’ll go outside and release the driver.”

Then, returning, Darrin added: 

“Doctor, if you’ll hand me your bill, Mr. Dalzell will see that his father remits to you.”

Dr. Stewart nodded, wrote the bill, and passed it over.  It was not by any means the first time that the physician had done business on that basis.

“A fairly brisk walk, gentlemen, will be best,” said the doctor, at the street door.  “Good evening—­and good luck.”

“Another Naval mystery, I suppose,” smiled the physician, as he turned back to his office.  “But I shall never hear from it again, except when the remittance arrives from the young man’s father.”

Arriving at the Maryland Avenue gate of the Academy grounds Dave turned in report for both of them.  Then the chums continued across to Bancroft Hall.

Midshipman Brimmer was reported absent, but accounted for, at that supper formation.  At that moment Brimmer was undergoing a Naval surgeon’s treatment for his eye.  Brimmer’s brief explanation to the surgeon was that he had run his face against something hard in a dark alleyway while in town.  The surgeon noted down the explanation, smiling grimly.

That being Saturday evening, with release from studies, Dave slipped down to the door of Farley and Page, and invited them to his quarters.  There sat Dan.

Both Farley and Page listened almost in stupefaction.  They had always rather liked Brimmer.  Yet they were convinced that Darrin spoke the truth.

“Now, help me with your advice,” begged Dave.  “Should I make an official report of this whole matter?

“Not until you have stronger evidence against Brimmer,” suggested Farley.