"Now, by the way, if we're to catch the sneak who has done this dastardly thing, we've got to work fast.

We ought not to let the traitor suspect anything until we're ready to act.

Mr.Jarvis, do you mind leaving here promptly, and going to 'The Morning Blade' office?
If you tell Mr.Pollock that you're waiting for me, he'll give you a chair and plenty to read." "I'm off, then," smiled Jarvis, rising and reaching for his hat.
"I want to shake hands with you, Jarvis, and to thank you again for your manly conduct in bringing this thing straight to me." "Why, that's almost insulting," retorted Jarvis quizzically.
"Why shouldn't an American High School student be a gentleman?
Wouldn't you have done the same for me, if the thing had been turned around ?" "Of course," Dick declared hastily.

"But I'm glad that this fell into your hands.

If we had gone into the game, relying on this signal code-----" "We'd have burned you to a crisp on the gridiron," laughed Jarvis.
"But what earthly good would it do our school to win a game that we got by clasping hands with a sneak and a traitor?
Can any school care to win games in that fashion?
But now, I'm off for 'The Blade's office---if your Mr.Pollock doesn't throw me out." "He won't," Dick replied, "I'm a member of 'The Blade' staff." "Don't go back into assembly room with a face betraying as much as yours does," whispered Captain Jarvis, over his shoulder.
"Thank you for the tip," Dick responded.
When young Prescott stepped back into the general assembly room his face, though not all the color had returned to it, wore a smiling expression.