“No.”
“And isn’t it rather late in the college year for him to begin?”
“It is—say, look here, Professor Clatter! Do you know anything about this?” demanded Bill.
“No, only what my common sense tells me. But I gather that there is some feeling against you because of baseball matters.”
“A little—yes, Mersfeld is sore, but—”
“Wait a minute. Now, if some of your enemies could get you into a game like this, and then desert you, and let the whole blame fall on you, or, even, we’ll say, tip off the college authorities, to use a slang term—wouldn’t they make trouble for you.”
“Yes, they would, but—”
“Is this Bob Chapin a particular friend of yours?”
“Not particularly.”