“It was Dulcie Vale,” came the treacherous answer.
“I knew it.” Leslie brought one hand sharply down against the other. “What else has Dulcie told you?”
“About what?” counter-questioned the sophomore.
“That’s what I am asking you.” Leslie leaned forward in her chair, steady eyes on her vis-a-vis.
Elizabeth experienced inward trepidation. Dulcie had told her a great many things which she had promptly repeated to friends of hers under promise of secrecy. Suppose Leslie had traced some bit of gossip to her. She had heard that Leslie could pretend affability when she was the angriest. She might be only using Dulcie as a blind in order to extract a confession from her.
“I don’t quite understand you, Leslie,” she asserted, knitting her light brows. “Dulcie has talked to me a little about the Sans. I never mentioned a word she said to anyone else.”
“That’s not the point. I am not accusing you of talking too much. You made a remark the other day which I took as an assumption that you had been told about the summons. I knew Dulcie had told you. Dulcie has said things to others, too.”
“Oh, I know that.” Confidence returning, Elizabeth was quick to place the blame on the absent Dulcie.
“Yes; and so do I. It is very necessary that I should get to the bottom of her talk. Some say one thing about her, some another. I thought I could rely on you for the facts.”
“I don’t care to have any trouble with Dulcie over this,” deprecated Elizabeth.