Colonel Gunn was fat, ponderous, and highly dignified. He owned his military title by virtue of having been an aid on the governor’s staff, but none the less he was an extremely capable man. Merry had no inkling of what trouble Randall was mixed up in, for the orderly had wisely refrained from discussing it. Upon entering the office of the principal, Chip found Colonel Gunn seated at his desk. Before him was Randall, white-faced and evidently badly frightened, while at one side stood the constable from Fardale village.
To judge by the general air of things, the situation was anything but pleasant for Bob Randall. Merry came to attention.
“Ah, Mr. Merriwell,” exclaimed the colonel, in his ponderous style, “I sent for you at—ah—Mr. Randall’s request. There is a considerable—ah—difficulty, and Mr. Randall seems to think that you can—ah—help matters out. I’m sure I hope so.”
“Yes, sir,” returned Frank, quite in the dark as yet. “I didn’t know that Randall was in any trouble, sir.”
“I did not intend to convey that—ah—intelligence,[261] Merriwell. I merely ventured the—ah—statement that there was a difficulty. You will please note that there is not only a technical, but a moral, difference—I might say a tremendous difference—between leveling an accusation of—ah—guilt, or presupposing such a conclusion, and making a statement of bare and unvarnished fact.”
Merry was tempted to smile, but knew better.
“Yes, sir,” he gravely answered. “I beg your pardon, Colonel Gunn, for having unintentionally miscomprehended your prior remark. If I may be allowed a word with Randall, sir, it might serve to——”
“Ah—certainly, certainly!” wheezed the colonel.
Merry turned. Until then, Randall had not dared to break silence, knowing that the principal was a stickler for discipline. Now he leaned over the table toward Frank, his face white and tense.
“Chip, I swear that I didn’t do it!” he cried passionately. “I never dreamed of such a thing!”
“I hope not,” returned Frank, his eyes twinkling. Then, noting the terrible strain that Randall labored under, he became serious. “What is it, old man? What kind of trouble are you in?”
“This heah officeh says that I stole a thousand[262] dollahs last night!” cried out Randall, indicating the constable.
Merry smiled. To any one who knew Bob Randall, the preposterous absurdity of such a charge was evident. Randall might be a murderer, but never a thief.
“Why, old man,” said Frank, “surely there’s no evidence for such a charge? You have plenty of money, for one thing. For another, any one who knows you must believe you incapable of such a thing.”
“Yo’ sho’ ahe true blue, Chip!” Randall cried eagerly. “Of co’se, no one would accuse a Randall of theft, except a low-down Yankee——”
Colonel Gunn cleared his throat heavily. His face looked troubled, and Chip saw that he also found it hard to reconcile the charge with Randall’s character.
“You—ah—are presupposing a good deal, gentlemen,” he declared ponderously. “In the first place, allow me to make the assertion that—ah—no one has accused Mr. Randall of the theft. Is that not right, constable?”
“Yes, sir,” said the perplexed officer. “I didn’t accuse him, exactly. I only wanted to know how much he knew.”
“A distinction with a difference,” said the colonel.
Frank made a grimace of despair. If he was[263] going to get to the bottom of this before time for mess, he would have to wade in.
“Excuse me, sir,” he exclaimed, “but I know nothing of the circumstances referred to. I don’t see how I can help Randall, but if you’ll be good enough to explain the nature of the difficulty I’ll be only too glad to tell anything I know, or to do anything I can to help out matters.”
“Ah—quite so, quite so, Merriwell!”
Colonel Gunn swung around in his chair, taking a paper from the desk before him, and proceeded to elucidate.
“Putting up at the Dobbs Hotel in the village, Merriwell, is a gentleman named—ah—Hostetter, Ezra Hostetter. It is his assertion that at some time last night, some person or persons unknown did feloniously gain admittance to his room at the hotel, and did—ah—remove from beneath his pillow a black leather wallet, containing—ah—certain papers. The wallet also contained a thousand dollars in hundred-dollar bills.”
“He must have been pining for adventure, sir, to carry that much around with him in currency,” observed Frank. The colonel’s mouth twitched slightly. “But if the thieves are unknown, where does Randall come in? He was in barracks last night, as would be easy to prove.”
“That is just the—ah—difficulty,” observed the colonel heavily, fixing his eye on Randall. “According to the inspector’s report, Mr. Randall[264] and his roommate were asleep at the proper time. But when I asked Mr. Randall whether he had been to the village last night, he admitted it. Is not that correct, sir?”
“Of course, Colonel Gunn,” said the Southerner proudly. “There was a dummy in my bed to fool the inspector. But when you asked, of course, I would not lie about it, sir.”
“A highly proper—a............