"Yes, secret society. A kind of brotherhood—vendetta, with masks and knives and forks—daggers, I mean—and that sort of thing——"
"Now, look here, Master Plunger, stop plunging! Drop it, and come to the point!" said Stanley firmly. "What do you want to know? Come, Harry; you're not so gassy. Perhaps we can get some sense out of you."
Harry explained as well as he was able what they wanted to know. Stanley at once decided that a promise given under such circumstances was not binding, and his opinion was, of course, backed up by Newall, who was eager to know what this mystery could mean. Thus assured, Plunger and Harry told them all that had happened on the afternoon they had been captured by the "Mystic Brethren." As may be imagined, Stanley and Newall were greatly excited by the story—especially that portion of it referring to Paul.
"Now are you satisfied?" cried Newall triumphantly. "Didn't I always say what Percival was? He's not only a cur, but a traitor!"
And Stanley, who in days gone by would have fiercely resented the slightest reflection on Paul, allowed the words to go unchallenged.
"You're quite certain that it was Percival you saw?" he at length asked.
"Am I certain that I see you?" answered Plunger. "Besides, Harry saw him, too. Both of us couldn't be mistaken."
"There wasn't much mistake, Stan. I wish there had been. That makes the second time I've seen them together."
"If you don't believe us, you'd better put to him the question straight. Send for him now, and put him face to face with us. See if he'll deny it then!"
"I think you're right, Plunger. We'll send for Percival, and see what he has to say. You go and fetch him, Harry. You'll find him somewhere about the grounds.