“What about that? Speak out, fellow!”
“It—it was a mistake, Don,” faltered Bentley, keeping his eyes downturned. “You see, it was this way: Just before you dropped into the club that night, Renwood had his knife out. It was on the table when you had that little jaw with him, and I took it, thinking he wouldn’t notice it was gone. He did notice it after you went out, and we all hunted for it, but, of course, we didn’t find it. Later, when they proposed to give Carter a try on the team, I got mad, for I saw I’d be dropped if Carter got on. I told them what I thought and got out. Then I wanted to do something to get even with somebody, and I knew Renwood was the one who was trying to bounce me. I remembered how you thought he was a traitor, and an idea struck me. I went up to the dressing-room under the grand-stand and slashed up the suits and the football with Renwood’s knife, which I meant to leave right there, hoping he’d be suspected; but, just as I finished the job, somebody came right in by the door and bumped against me. I couldn’t see who it was in the dark, and I tried to jump and scoot. The other fellow grabbed me, and we had it. You bet I didn’t want to be caught in that job, so I fought for all I was worth; but the other fellow was too much for me, and he had me down and was choking me to death when I struck at him with the knife. I didn’t know it was you, Don—truly I didn’t! I thought I was being killed. You know the rest; you know how you got the knife and I managed to slip away. That’s the whole truth, Don, and now you must help me, just as you promised you would.”
The listening lad sat down weakly on a box, feeling that he had been robbed of everything. He beheld himself in the true light at last, and the spectacle was so repulsive that he shuddered and grew cold. When he lifted his eyes, Bentley cowered beneath the terrible look he received.
“Don’t!” he whimpered once more—“don’t look at me that way! I’ve told you the truth, and now you must help me! Think of the terrible scrape I’m in!”
“You!” cried Don, rising and flinging the other off, so that he reeled up against the wall, his cigarette flying from his fingers. “The terrible scrape you are in! Why, I have killed Renwood!”
Then he went out, Bentley’s prayers and pleadings falling on ears that were deaf.
CHAPTER XXXIV.
REPENTANCE AND VICTORY.
It was some time after dark that, having till then wandered aimlessly about by himself, Don Scott turned in at the gate of his home, passed up the gravel walk and entered the front door. His heart felt like a stone within him, without life even to give a fluttering start when he found himself face to face with his father, who seemed to be waiting in the hall.
“My son!” cried the doctor, catching him by the arm, “where have you been? When I came home, I expected to find you here to tell me all about it.”
“Oh, I can’t tell you!” groaned Don. “I can’t think about it! How you must loathe me!”