"Daly, you're a brick."
To which Bill rejoined, "And Mulvy, you're all gold—twenty-two carat."
"You'll get over that, Daly," replied Frank. "I must be going now. Mum is the word. What you've told me, is the same as not said. I'll not breathe it to a living soul."
A tempest raged in Frank's soul. His was a magnanimous character, and it pained him to think that circumstances should have framed for Father Boone, such a strong case against him. The director had placed absolute confidence in him. No wonder he showed such indignation. "And wasn't it just like Father Boone—to turn in a half dozen men and fix things up at once, and then wait for developments as if nothing had happened!"
Frank made his way toward the Club. "If I can get hold of the janitor," he thought, "I can find out all I want to know." He turned off to the street where the janitor lived, and soon found his man.
"Good evening, Mr. Dunn," he began.
"Good evening, sir."
In an apparently indifferent manner, Frank led up to his objective. But old Dunn suspected something right from the start. It is true that Father Boone had not imposed silence in regard to the mischief at the Club, but the janitor was a sensible and loyal man, and he judged that if Father Boone wanted anything to be said about the affair, he would say it himself. The indifference that Dunn displayed whenever Frank tried to lead up to the point, was amazing. The boy finally gave up the flank attack and tried the front.
"Mr. Dunn, that was quite a bit of damage we had over there the other day, wasn't it?"
"Quite a bit," said Dunn, "but I guess Daly was not hurt as badly as we thought at first."