of blood running from
a deep incision in his back made with some sharp instrument, that had
been driven home with tremendous force. He had, without doubt, been
murdered. But by whom? Then one of the undergraduates, a bright, boyish,
fair-haired giant, named O'Farroll, immensely popular both on account of
his prowess in sport and an untold number of the most audacious
escapades, spoke out:

"'I saw Anderson, about an hour ago, crossing the quadrangle. I asked
him where he was going, and he replied, "To old Kelly. I intend paying
him out for 'gating' me last week." I enquired how, and he replied:
"I've a glorious plan. You know that portrait stuck over his
mantel-shelf? Well! In poking about the room the other day, when the old
man was out, I had a great find. Directly behind the picture is the door
of a secret room, so neatly covered by the designs on the wall that it
is not discernible. It was only by the merest fluke I discovered it. I
was taking down the picture with the idea of "touching up" the face,
when my knuckles bumped against the panels of the wall, touched a
spring, and the door flew open, revealing an apartment about six by
eight feet large. I at once explored it, and found it could be entered
by the chimney. An idea then struck me--I would play a trick upon the
Dean by hiding in this secret chamber one evening while he was feeding,
cutting out the eyes of the portrait, and peering through the cavities
at him. And this,' O'Farroll continued, pointing at the fallen picture,
'is what he evidently did after I left him. You can see the eyes of the
portrait have been removed.'

"'That is so, shure,' one of the other undergraduates, Mick Maguire--six
feet two in his socks, every inch--exclaimed. 'And, what is more, I knew
all about it. Anderson told me yesterday what he was going to do, and I
wanted to join him, but he said I would never get up the chimney, I
would stick there. And, bedad, I think he was right.'

"At this remark, despite the grimness of the moment, several of those
present laughed.

"'Come, come, gentlemen!' one of the officials cried, 'this is no time
for levity. Mr. Anderson has been murdered, and the question is--by
whom?'

"'Then, if that's the only thing that is troubling you,' O'Farroll put
in, 'I fancy the solution is right here at hand,' and he looked
significantly at the Dean.

"An ominous silence followed, during which all eyes were fixed on John
Kelly, some anxiously, some mere