“Somebody has got to tell it before Hooker tells, himself,” persisted Piper. “As you’re the fellow mainly involved, it seems to me it’s up to you.”
“And if I don’t tell, I suppose you’ll run and peach, you common tattler!” frothed Shultz, taking a step forward, his fists clenched, his face crimson with rage.
Piper stood his ground.
“Perhaps it will make you more popular with yourself if you hit me,” he said. “You can’t frighten me, Shultz, with black looks and bluster. I knew what you’d do, but I made up my mind to talk straight to you, and I’m going to talk, even if you knock me down and jump on me with both feet.”
“There’ll be nothing of that kind happen in here,” announced Osgood, taking a position to interfere in case Shultz’s wrath should gain absolute control of him. “We were talking of this thing when you came in, Piper.”
“That old dead one, Richardson, tried to make folks believe it would be a courageous thing to come forward and confess,” said Shultz; “but anybody knows that the fellow who squeals is usually a coward. He’s frightened into it. That’s the trouble with you, Piper; you’re scared stiff. You haven’t any nerve at all.”
“Scared?” retorted Billy. “I didn’t hit Hooker. The worst that can be said about me is that I was playing poker here and that I joined with the rest of the bunch in keeping still about what happened to Roy. You know, Shultz, that there was no one else save yourself and Roy to blame for that wind-up of the game. Now if we all keep still and wait till it comes out, every one of us will be in the soup; but if you have the nerve and manhood to go to Professor Richardson or Dr. Grindle and tell just what the finish of that game was, without naming any one besides yourself and Hooker, it will——”
“Ho! ho!” scoffed Shultz. “So that’s what you want! I knew it; I knew you were trying to save your own hide somehow. You want me to expose myself as a real thug and scoundrel, in order that you and the rest may get off scot-free. Fine—I don’t think. I’ll rush right away and do it—not.”
“Osgood is your particular friend, isn’t he? Can’t you see any reason why you should shield him, dismissing consideration for the rest of us? You were here playing poker in Ned’s rooms. An unfortunate misunderstanding—I hope that’s what it was—brought about that encounter with Hooker. You can tell the story and refuse to name the others who were in the game. More than half the people will consider that an act of decency on your part. They won’t blame you for trying to shield the rest of the crowd, although they may attempt to worm our names from you.”
“It wouldn’t do any good, anyhow,” asserted Shultz. “As soon as Hooker gets straightened out and remembers things, he’ll tell; he’ll name all of us.”