“Not if you’re decent. But I’ll tell you frankly I’m done. I’ll take no more risks; I’ll never do another thing against Osborn. I’m glad the last attempt failed. But it didn’t fail through any fault of mine; I did my part perfectly, and I was almost caught. I’m done, Short, entirely done,” and Creelton heaved a sigh of relief.
“Why did it fail, Creelton?”
“I don’t know. I’ve been at sick quarters and we got rumors, very indifferent ones, about what happened; Scott and the commandant were in the room, and the commandant told Osborn he would be dismissed; then Himski wanted to prove something and the section was marched out and halted; in a few minutes the commandant came up and said it was all a mistake and apologized to Osborn. That’s what I heard and I can’t afford to ask too many questions. I’m glad it did fail. You’d better give it up, Short.”
“I never will,” snapped out Short. “I’ve one last plan which I’ve thought up. It will work if I have fair luck and it will dismiss him but not in disgrace. But there’d be no use in trying it now; I’ll wait a year till this blows over. Will you help me?”
“Not a bit of it. I’m through. And don’t imagine you can ever hold that confession over my head; if you ever try to do anything with it it will hurt you worse than it will me.”
“Look here, Creelton, I’ll pay you well if you’ll help me.”
“What is your plan?”
“Will you help me?”
“I will not.”
“Then I won’t tell you. Creelton, I want to make a trade; I’ll trade your confession for my letters which you have.”