“I wonder if you would really mind very much, Vic, if I asked you?”
“Not in the very least. I shall doubtless enjoy it after it's out. Painless dentistry effect. Go to it, Patsy.”
“It is very serious, Vic. I always think people in books are so stupid. They come near to the truth and then just miss getting it.”
“The truth. Ah! Go on, Pat.”
“Well, Vic,” said Patricia with an air of one taking a desperate venture, “why did you not give Adrien her note that night? It would have saved her and me such pain. I cried all night long. I had so counted on a dance with Jack—and then never a word from him. But he did send a note. He told me so. I never told Adrien that, for she forbade me, oh, so terribly, never to speak of it again. Why didn't you give her or me the note, Vic?” Patricia's voice was very pathetic and her eyes very gentle but very piercing.
All the laughter died out of Victor's face. “Pat, I lied to you once, only once, and that lie has cost me many an hour's misery. But now I shall tell you the truth and the whole truth.” And he proceeded to recount the tribulations which he endured on the night of the hockey dance. “I did it to help you both out, Pat. I thought I could make it easy for you. It was all a sheer guess, but it turned out to be pretty well right.”
Patricia nodded her head. “But you received no note?”
“Not a scrap, Patricia, so help me. Not a scrap. Patricia, you believe me?”
The girl looked straight into Vic's honest eyes. “Yes, Vic,” she said, “I believe you. But Jack sent a note.”
Vic sprang to his feet. “Good-bye, Watson. You shall hear from me within an hour.”