“Say, Bob,” he said slowly, “do you mind walking for a few minutes? I just remembered something I wanted to tell you.”
Hollister looked a little surprised.
“Why, no, not at all,” he returned quickly. “Anything about the team?”
Hildebrand hesitated. He had suddenly discovered that what he had to say was not going to be at all easy.
“Partly, yes,” he answered presently. “I hope you won’t think I’m a beastly butter-in, Bob, if I touch on something which is rather personal. I wouldn’t do it if I didn’t think so much of you and hate to see you knifed.”
Hollister frowned and a puzzled look came into his eyes.
“I don’t see quite what you’re driving at,” he said, a bit shortly; “but go ahead.”
The guard’s pleasant face was flushed. He almost wished he hadn’t promised Jim; but at length, he drew a long breath and took the plunge.
“It’s about Blake,” he said quickly. “Jim tells me he’s been coming in every night and keeping you from your work. I think you ought to know that he isn’t—well, he isn’t quite—a fellow to be trusted. I know, because I caught him cheating in a poker game last spring—a game for money.”
An ominous silence followed. In the light of a near-by street lamp, Hildebrand saw his companion’s lithe figure stiffen and his pleasant face harden.