There was a long pause. Finally Hughie said:—
"Well, it's a pretty story; but, honestly, I'm not in a position to contradict it at present."
Mrs. Leroy desisted from plaiting the window-cord, swung round, walked deliberately to the fireplace, and laid a hand on Hughie's arm.
"Hughie," she said, in tones which her husband subsequently affirmed would have drawn ducks off a pond, "what have you done? Tell us!"
Leroy followed his wife across the room. "Get it off your chest, old man," he said, with the air of a father confessor.
Hughie smiled gratefully. He took Mrs. Leroy's two hands into one of his own, and laid the other on Jack Leroy's shoulder.
"Jack and Milly," he said earnestly, "my two pals!—I would rather tell you than anybody else; but—I simply can't! It's not my secret! You'll probably find out all about it some day. At present I must ask you to accept my assurance that I'm not so black as I'm painted."
"Hughie," said Mrs. Leroy, "you are simply stupid! We have not come to you out of idle curiosity—"
"I know that," said Hughie heartily.
"And I think you might give us some sort of an inkling—a sort of favourable bulletin—that I could pass on to Joey, at any rate—"