"It fits in!" he cried.
"Fits in? What?" asked Tom.
"What I heard a while ago."
"What did you hear?"
"Heard Flockley, Koswell and Larkspur talking together. Koswell said he had fixed you, and that you were having a bad half hour with the president."
"Where was this?"
"In the library. I was in an alcove, and they didn't see me. I was busy reading some poetry by Longfellow—fine thing—went like this—"
"Never mind. Chop out the poetry now, Songbird. What more did they say?"
"Nothing. They walked away, and I—er—I got so interested in making up verses I forgot all about it until now."
"I wish you had heard more. Do you know where they went to?"