How Dick’s hand shook as he reached for the paper.  At first his eyes were too blurred for him to make out clearly what was on the paper.  But at last he made it all out.

“I am very sorry, sir.  This paper tells me nothing.”

Captain Abbott’s gaze was fixed keenly on the young man’s face.  White-faced Prescott, shaking and ghastly looking, showed all the evidences of detected, overwhelmed guilt.

Innocent men often do the same.

“You may return the paper and take your seat, Mr. Prescott.”

As Prescott turned away he made a powerful effort to hold his head erect, and to look fearlessly before him.

It was a full minute, yet, before the bugle would sound through the Academic Building to end the recitation period.  Dick was not the only one in this section room who found the wait intolerable.

But at last the bugle notes were heard.

“The section is dismissed,” announced Captain Abbott.  Dunstan, the section marcher, formed his men and led them thence.  No man in the section held his head more erect than did Prescott, who was conscious of his own absolute innocence in the affair.

Yet, when he reached his room, and sank down at his study table, a groan escaped Dick Prescott.

His head fell forward, cushioned in his folded arms.

Thus Holmes found him on entering the room.

“Why, old ramrod, what on earth is the matter?” gasped Greg.

A groan from his chum was the only answer.

At that moment another step, brisk and official, was heard in the corridor.  There was a short rap on the door, after which Unwine, cadet officer of the day, wearing his red sash and sword, stepped into the room.

“Mr. Prescott, you are ordered in close arrest in your quarters until further orders.”

“Yes, sir,” huskily replied Prescott, who had struggled to his feet and now stood at attention.

As Unwine wheeled, marching from the room, Dick sank again over his study table.

“Dick, old ramrod,” pleaded Greg terrified, “what on earth-----”

“Greg,” came the anguished moan, “they’re going to try to fire me from West Point for a common cheat—–­and I’m afraid they’ll do it, too!”

CHAPTER XIII

IN CLOSE ARREST

Ever since Greg Holmes first came to West Point he had been learning the repose and the reserve of the trained soldier.

Yet if ever his face betrayed utter abandonment to amazement it was now.

Cadet Holmes gazed at his chum in open-mouthed wonder.

“By and by,” uttered Greg fretfully, “You’ll tell me the meaning of this joke, and why Mr. Unwine should be in it, too.”

It was several minutes before Prescott turned around again.  When he did there was a furious glare in his eyes.

“Greg, old chum!  This is no joke.  You heard Unwine.  He was delivering an official order, not carrying an April-fool package.”