“Why—why—”
“Well? Come now, tell me all about it.”
“But I didn’t! You don’t understand, sir! I didn’t have anything to do with that, Mr. Collins. It was the oth—”
He stopped abruptly. Mr. Collins shook his head impatiently:
“You mean that you didn’t actually do any of the painting? Does that matter? You had a hand in the affair, Burtis. Who was with you?”
“No one, sir,” answered Kendall, still bewildered.
“That means you refuse to tell their names. Do you mind telling me whether the thing was intended as a Hallowe’en joke or as a mere piece of vandalism?”
“Why, sir, I think it was meant as a joke! But I didn’t know it was Hallowe’en. They said—”
“Who said?” asked Mr. Collins sharply. Kendall was silent.
“Come, come, Burtis, don’t be silly. Make a frank confession and it will be easier for you.”