“Go slow, Os; we may be mistaken. It’s the commandant’s orders that neither of us is to speak to any one of my suspicions, and of course of your own. We must have some proof, and it may come later if he is the guilty one. You must treat him just as you always have.”
“I’ll not do so,” cried Ralph, his eyes blazing with anger; “I’ll punch his head the first time I see him.”
“No, you won’t, not if you’re sensible; wait till we can prove him guilty; it would be foolish now. We might defeat all chances of detecting him.”
Ralph thought for a few moments, and then said: “All right; I’ll leave him alone, but I’ll never speak to him. I’ll not be the same to him as I have been.”
“Very well, Os; but be careful not to talk to any one.”
“I won’t, but I’m glad I’m going to room with you. I’ll bring in my things after drill.”
Ralph returned to his room where he found Creelton with a flushed, worried face.
“Os, you can’t have meant what you said,” he commenced.
“Every word of it, Creelton,” returned Ralph. “I believe this whole business is the work of you and Short, that you are Short’s tool. That’s my opinion, Mr. Creelton; you can go to the commandant about it if you wish; but I’ll never speak to you again.”
Creelton listened to Ralph with dry mouth and parched lips; his feet seemed to give way, he staggered to the table, and then helplessly fell into his chair. His breath came quickly and he seemed dazed, for he made no effort to reply to Ralph. His staring eyes, full of apprehension, seemed starting from their sockets. He had the appearance of a thoroughly frightened man; one whose guilt had suddenly been discovered.