He has been showing me the ruins

　　He has been showing me the ruins.""I believe Mill is awfully barred in Seymour's," said Trevor. "Anybodymight have ragged his study.""That's just what I thought. He's just the sort of man the League usedto go for.""That doesn't prove that it's been revived, all the same," objectedTrevor.
　　"No, friend; but this does. Mill found it tied to a chair."It was a small card. It looked like an ordinary visiting card. On it,in neat print, were the words, "_With the compliments of theLeague_".
　　"That's exactly the same sort of card as they used to use," saidClowes. "I've seen some of them. What do you think of that?""I think whoever has started the thing is a pretty average-sized idiot.
　　He's bound to get caught some time or other, and then out he goes. TheOld Man wouldn't think twice about sacking a chap of that sort.""A chap of that sort," said Clowes, "will take jolly good care he isn'tcaught. But it's rather sport, isn't it?"And he went off to his study.
　　Next day there was further evidence that the League was an actual goingconcern. When Trevor came down to breakfast, he found a letter by hisplate. It was printed, as the card had been. It was signed "ThePresident of the League." And the purport of it was that the League didnot wish Barry to continue to play for the first fifteen.
Chapter 5 Mill Receives Visitors
Trevor's first idea was that somebody had sent the letter for ajoke,--Clowes for choice.
　　He sounded him on the subject after breakfast.
　　"Did you send me that letter?" he inquired, when Clowes came into hisstudy to borrow a _Sportsman_.
　　"What letter? Did you send the team for tomorrow up to the sporter? Iwonder what sort of a lot the Town are bringing.""About not giving Barry his footer colours?"Clowes was reading the paper.
　　"Giving whom?" he asked.
　　"Barry. Can't you listen?""Giving him what?""Footer colours.""What about them?"Trevor sprang at the paper, and tore it away from him. After which hesat on the fragments.
　　"Did you send me a letter about not giving Barry his footer colours?"Clowes surveyed him with the air of a nurse to whom the family baby hasjust said some more than usually good thing.
　　"Don't stop," he said, "I could listen all day."Trevor felt in his pocket for the note, and flung it at him. Clowespicked it up, and read it gravely.
　　"What _are_ footer colours?" he asked.
　　"Well," said Trevor, "it's a pretty rotten sort of joke, whoever sentit. You haven't said yet whether you did or not.""What earthly reason should I have for sending it? And I think you'remaking a mistake if you think this is meant as a joke.""You don't really believe this League rot?""You didn't see Mill's study 'after treatment'. I did. Anyhow, how doyou account for the card I showed you?""But that sort of thing doesn't happen at school.""Well, it _has_ happened, you see.""Who do you think did send the letter, then?""The President of the League.""And who the dickens is the President of the League when he's at home?""If I knew that, I should tell Mill, and earn his blessing. Not that Iwant it.""Then, I suppose," snorted Trevor, "you'd suggest that on the strengthof this letter I'd better leave Barry out of the team?""Satirically in brackets," commented Clowes.