It was when asked how he came to fall from the rear platform of the car that the cadet hesitated.

“I thought I was thrown from the platform, sir,” Dick replied in each case.

“Who was on the platform with you?”

“No one, sir, an instant before.”

“Did you see any one come out of the car?”

“No, sir.”

“Did you recognize any assailant?”

“No-o, sir.”

“Have you any good reason to suspect any particular person?”

“No good reason, sir.”

“Could any one have come out of the car, unless it had been a tactical officer, a cadet or a railway employee?”

“No, sir.”

That was as far as the questioning went, for both the adjutant and the commandant of cadets believed that Dick had been pitched from the rear platform by some sudden movement of the car.  No other belief seemed sane enough to be considered.

It was the commandant of cadets who suggested: 

“If you feel the slightest need of it, Mr. Prescott, you may go at once to cadet hospital, and be examined by one of the surgeons.  We don’t want you coming down with illness later, on account of a neglected chill.”

“I am very certain I don’t need a medical officers attention, sir,” replied Cadet Prescott, with just the trace of a smile.  “The Rev. Dr. Brown and his wife were about the most attentive people I ever met.  I was pretty cold, sir, when I reached their house.  But inside of five minutes they had me rolled up in warm blankets and were dosing me with ginger tea.  Afterwards they gave me a hot supper.  I slept like a top, sir, last night.”

“You feel fit then, Mr. Prescott, to return to full duty? asked the K.C.

“Wholly fit, sir.”

“Very good.  Then I will so mark you.  Go to your quarters, Mr. Prescott, and wait until the next call, which will be the call for dinner formation.”

Saluting the commandant, Prescott left the cadet guard house, hastening to his own room.

A few minutes later Cadet Holmes burst in upon his chum.

To him Dick told the whole story of his striking the water, of his swimming to shore, and of hurried trip through the cold night to the nearest house.

“And you’re sure you were pushed?” questioned greg thoughtfully.

“Either I was pushed, or it was all a horrid dream,” replied Dick fervently.

“Then why didn’t you so tell the K.C.?”

“I answered the K.C. truthfully, Greg.  I told him all that I really know.  I didn’t feel called upon, and wasn’t asked, to tell him anything that I guessed.”

“What is your guess?” insisted Holmes, with the privilege of a friend.

“Greg, as far as I can be sure of anything without knowing it, I am absolutely certain that a cadet came out of the car, behind me, and that he pushed me off the platform.”

“A cadet?” demanded Greg, turning pale.  To Holmes it seemed atrocious to couple the word cadet with any act of dishonor.