“It is a pity that some of these weak-kneed fellows didn’t come to the same determination,” said he to himself. “There was not a scrap of evidence against any of us, and if they had only stood by me——”
“Sergeant, call private Duncan’s name again,” said the superintendent, breaking in upon his soliloquy.
“Clarence Duncan,” said the sergeant.
“Here,” came the response.
“Clarence Duncan!” repeated Clayton.
“Here!” replied the culprit; adding to himself, “You can’t make me own up, and you might as well give up trying.”
“Private Duncan, three paces to the front,” commanded the superintendent. “Break ranks.”
Duncan was taken to his room under guard, and when he got there he found an armed sentry pacing back and forth in front of the door. Tom Fisher was seated at the table with an open book before him, but he was not studying. He was thinking over the incidents that had just transpired.
“Well, Clarence,” said he, cheerfully, “we’re in for it.”
“Yes,” replied Clarence, angrily. “Thanks to you and Don Gordon, we are in for it. I never knew before that you were such a coward. What made you side with Gordon?”