“We are here tonight to perform a duty, which, though not pleasant, must be done.” Leslie made this beginning with only a slight drawl to her tones. “When we organized the Sans Soucians we all promised to be loyal to one another. I regret to say that one of our number has so completely violated this promise it becomes necessary to take drastic measures. We cannot allow a Sans to betray deliberately either club or personal secrets.”
Leslie placed great stress on “deliberately.” She was careful not to look toward Dulcie. “Do you agree with me in this?” She put the question generally.
“Yes,” was the concerted, emphatic answer. Dulcie’s voice helped to swell the chorus.
“The Sans have done certain things as a matter of reprisal and self-defense, which, if generally known, would entail very serious consequences. It is vital to our welfare at Hamilton that these matters should be kept secret, yet a member of the Sans has gossiped them to outsiders. For example, it is known to a number of seniors and juniors outside the Sans that a hazing affair took place last St. Valentine’s night, conducted by the Sans. Seven of us have been approached on this subject. We know, to a certainty, that a faction, antagonistic to us, did not start this story.
“Still more serious is a report brought to me concerning the methods employed by Joan and I to keep a residence for the Sans at the Hall when we were threatened with expulsion from here as sophomores. A person who will betray such intimate matters, knowing that her treachery may ruin the prospects of her chums for graduation from college, is not only a fool for risking her own safety, but a menace to the club as well.”
For ten minutes Leslie talked on in this strain, her hearers observing a strained silence. She was purposely piling up the enormity of Dulcie’s misdeed so as to impress the others. As for Dulcie, she had begun to show signs of nervousness. Once or twice her eyes measured the distance from her chair to the door as if she were meditating sudden flight. What remnants of conscience she still had, stirred to the point of informing her that the coat Leslie was airing fitted her too snugly for comfort. She had not yet arrived at the moment of awakening, however. She believed Leslie’s remarks to be directed toward someone else. Margaret Wayne, perhaps; or, Loretta Kelly. Leslie had once said to her that Loretta was a gossip. Dulcie now tried to recall an instance of Loretta’s perfidy. It would be to her interest to cite an instance of it should Leslie call for special evidence. It would pay Loretta back for once having called her a stupid little owl.
In the midst of racking her vindictive brain for evidence against a fellow member, Dulcie lost briefly the thread of Leslie’s discourse. Mention of her own name re-furnished her with it.
“Dulciana Vale,” she heard Leslie saying in a tense note quite different from her indolent drawl, “do you know of any reason why you should be allowed a further membership in the Sans Soucians after having become an utter traitor to their interests?”
Dulcie struggled to her feet, her sulky features a study in slow-growing rage. “What—what—do you—mean?” Her voice was rising to a gasping scream. “How dare you call me a traitor. You are telling lies; just nothing but lies.”