“Why, for the Van Loan business, you know—same as you.”
“And who gave him away?”
“Haven’t you heard? He went in before the faculty yesterday, after they got through with you, and accused himself—made a clean breast of it, voluntarily. What do you think of that?”
Parmenter did not reply. He was too deeply moved to speak. Robinson went hurriedly on:
“Yes, Bessick and Ogdenburg are put on in your places. The rest of us are trembling in our shoes, though I don’t know why we need to; you and Charley won’t give us away, and Van Loan can’t. Say, Fred! is there any doubt but what Van Loan broke his promise? Everybody thinks so.”
“Oh, I don’t know, and I don’t care now,” replied Parmenter, impatiently. Robinson rattled on:
“I hear he denies it; but there was no other way for it to get out, and he’s such an all-round liar you can’t believe him. Say, Fred, when you’re sure of it just let us know; and if that Freshman don’t suffer for his perfidy, then—Oh, excuse me! There’s the last bell.”
Robinson, who was an expert runner, shot across the campus, and entered the chapel on the heels of the last group of attendants.
Parmenter passed on wearily to his room. And so Charley had confessed—and had been cut! Parmenter wondered what motive had prompted the confession. Was it weakness or bravery?