To Holmes it seemed atrocious to couple the word cadet with any act of dishonor.
"Greg, as I plunged through the air, I succeeded in turning a trifle.
I am convinced, in my own mind, that I saw the gray cape overcoat of a cadet I am also certain that I got a glimpse of his face.
The only limit to my certainty is that I wouldn't want to name the man under oath." "Who was he ?" demanded Holmes.
Advancing, placing his lips against one of Greg's ears, Prescott whispered the name: "Haynes! But you mustn't breathe this to a living soul! Remember, I wouldn't dare swear to the truth of what I've hinted to you." Greg Holmes, wholly and utterly loyal to the cadet corps of which he was himself an honored member, went even paler.

He leaned back against the wall, clenching his fists tightly.
"Haynes ?" he whispered.

"I don't like the fellow, and I never did.

He's no friend of yours, either, Dick.

But he wears the staunch old cadet uniform and has had more than three years of the West Point traditions.