These cries followed each other in rapid succession. Tom was aware of many thoughts flying in confusion through his brain. Several suspicious circumstances in regard to Shambler seemed likely to be explained now.
“Shambler, will you answer?” called Holly, in strained tones. “Can’t you say, for the honor of Randall, that this isn’t so?”
There was a hush of silence, and, as white as a sheet of paper, the student on whom so much depended—who it was hoped would win the big mile run, and perhaps other contests for the college, arose.
“Mr. Chairman, and members of Randall,” he began, and then his voice broke. “I—I can’t say anything!” he faltered.
Once more that tense silence.
“Is it—is it true?” hoarsely asked Kindlings. “Are you a professional?”
“I—I am,” confessed Jake Shambler and then, amid a storm of hisses which broke out all over the room, the dishonored student hurried out. He had not dared to deny the charge.
“The sneak!” cried several, and more than one arose as though to follow and inflict corporal punishment on one who had trailed the colors of Randall in the dust.
“Silence!” cried Holly Cross, leaping to his feet. “It’s bad enough without making it worse. Stop that hissing!”