e whole thing.

After a bit Frank said in a voice choked with emotion, "I know you have
suffered, Father, and that has hurt me." He could say no more but after
a little, he began again. "At first, I did not know anything about the
matter, and when I did know, I could not speak. I wish I could clear the
matter up, but I cannot do so honorably, and I know you don't want me to
do it dishonorably."

The priest patted him on the back and told him to do what was right and
not to think of consequences. "And as you consider silence the right
thing now, I do not wish you to do otherwise than as you are doing."

"Thank you, Father," replied Frank. "But please--I am true to you."

"Yes, I know," answered the priest, "but it's all a mystery,
nevertheless, and it must be solved, and," he added vigorously, "it
shall be solved."

Frank went below. The priest closed the door, and fell into a brown
study. "What am I to do?" he reflected. "This thing must be nailed. But
how?"

He was not looking for boys to punish, but for the solution of the
problem, and the clearing of the good name of the Club. Taking out a
large sheet of paper, he wrote in big letters for the notice board in
the library reading room:

"Boys of St. Leonard's Club:

This is an appeal to the boys who have the good
name of the Club, and their own at heart. I want
no boy to tell on another. But I do request that
the perpetrators of that act of wanton destruction
declare themselves to me at once. You know my
ways, and that I am the first to make every
allowance and to see fair play. I await in the
office a response to this notice this very night.

Jerome Boone."

The first boy to read the notice was Ned Mullen. "Whew!" he exclaimed,
with a long whistle. He ran into the games-room, "Hey, fellows, see
what's up--some notice--riot act!"

At first they paid no attention to him, saying merely, "Quit your
guying, kid."

But as he shouted out, "Frank, Tom, Dick, come see the board, a real
live circus is in town," they all dropped their games, and trooped into
the reading room.

"Gee!" was the exclamation from every throat.

"That's news."

"What row is that?"

"Wanton destruction!"

"That sounds good."

"O, but say, it's the real thing."

"That's Father Boone's handwriting. What does it mean?"

Then they fell to asking