“Well, yes, that is so,” admitted the colonel. “But still I would rather see it the way it is than to have to think George Long is guilty. Not that I wish to see either or any of my boys guilty of dishonor, but what I mean is this: Long was such a fine clean fellow that it hurt to think that anything was wrong with him. Gates, on the other hand, was not so straightforward. I can’t even say that he was dishonest, but he was less frank than the cadet captain.”
“I see what you mean.” Don nodded. “But now we will have to admit that Gates was dishonest, for he allowed the blame to settle on Long and never said anything about it at all.”
“That is so,” the colonel said. “What do you propose next? Shall Long be told of the story?”
“Privately, yes,” Don replied. “But suppose we keep it rather quiet for a time? We do want to find out just why Gates took it, and a significant story may underlie his reason. My plan is to have a regular committee go and call on Mr. Long!”
“To see if he can add anything to the facts gathered?” the colonel asked.
“Yes, just that. It may be that he has since found out something that will help. It won’t do any harm to try. Do you know where he is living?”
“The last time I wrote to him he was living in White Plains. I’ll give you his address and you can write and ask for an appointment.”
“Do you think that is wise?” Don asked.
“Why not?”
“Well, he may still be hurt at the way the whole thing was received years ago and tell us very briefly but politely that he will not be at home to us. My plan is to drop in on him some evening and then he will have to receive us.”