TONY WAS PUTTING HIS QUESTIONS NOW RAPIDLY AND WITH INTENTION FOR HE HAD BECOME SUSPICIOUS
“Shut up, and stop blubbering like a kid. I won’t throw you over. But just at present I’m mighty disgusted with you, I reckon you know.”
Finch drew his coat sleeve across his eyes, and caught a sob or so in his throat. “I’ll tell you everything,” he said, with a sniffle, “just wait a second.”
“All right. And mind you do tell everything, if you ever want me to trust you an inch beyond my nose again,” answered Tony. He suspected there was a good deal to tell; in the last few moments a multitude of little incidents flashed into his mind; all were accounted for if Finch was a sneak.
“I know it was rotten, Deering,” began Finch, “but I couldn’t seem to help it.”
“Now cut that sort of excuse out. Don’t try to defend it. Just tell the truth, will you?”
“Well, I was sitting in the library reading, and the Doctor passed through, and stopped a minute and spoke to me, and told me not to say anything about the letter he wrote me last summer in which he had mentioned you as the leader of the school. He said the appointment wasn’t made yet.”
“Yes.”