"He wrote," answered Diggory. "We tossed up whether he should do that or speak."
There was a burst of laughter.
"Did you see the letter?"
"Yes."
"What did he say?"
"I can't tell you."
"Why not? don't you remember?"
"Yes; but he only showed me the letter on condition I wouldn't ever tell any one what was in it."
"Oh, that's all rot! you can tell me; I'm his brother. Come, out with it."
It was an awful thing to beard the lion in his den—for a new boy to face so great a personage as the football captain, and refuse point-blank to do as he was told. Diggory shifted uneasily from one foot to another, and then glancing up he became aware of the fact that Allingford was gazing at him across the table with a curious expression, which somehow gave him fresh encouragement to persist in his refusal to disclose the contents of his former friend's love-letter.