"No, no," Blair declared, but Thorpe jumped up, and, going into his bedroom, closed the door behind him.
"Drop it," commanded Blair, quietly, and Shelby changed the subject.
"Mr. Crane says you had an old letter from Joshua," he began, "let's see it, will you?"
"Sure, if I can find it," and Blair began rummaging in his desk. "Confound it, Kit, if Thorpe hasn't been poking in here among my letters!"
"I wouldn't stand for it, Gilbert. What would he do that for?"
"Hush," with a glance toward Thorpe's closed door, "never mind now. But, anyway, I can't find that letter. What do you want it for?"
"Mr. Crane thinks the one I received from Joshua looks so different that I wanted to compare them."
"Let me see yours. I can tell at once. Joshua wrote a small cramped hand——"
"This one was rather large and of loosely formed letters, but, of course, some one may have written it for him."
"Yes, Joshua hated to write——"