"Greg, what do you think?" whispered Dick breathlessly, as he went quickly into the room and toward his roommate, who sat bent over his study table.
The very attitude was unmilitary—a fact that struck Prescott suddenly.
Then Greg, hearing his roommate's voice, raised his head somewhat and wheeled about in his chair.
What a woebegone face Cadet Gregory Holmes presented!
"Greg, what on earth is the matter?" demanded Dick, halting short and staring hard.
"I can't help it," replied Greg miserably, shaking his head.
"Can't help what?" demanded Dick thunder-struck.
"I can't help what I've gone and done. I had to do it!" cried Greg, with sudden fierceness in his tone.
"What you've done?" echoed Dick. "Well, what have you gone and done, anyway, old fellow? Does it stop anywhere short of murder—or lying?"
For in the West Point code of honor lying ranks very nearly as bad as murder.