“Close the door, will you? Thanks. Can you keep a secret, Chas?”
“Sometimes. Go on. What’s up?”
“Myron’s gone. Went last evening.”
“Fired?”
“No, he just went.”
“Left school, you mean? Well, what—do you know—about that?”
“We’re trying to get him back before faculty gets on to it, but it doesn’t look good. Merriman’s on his trail. Took the nine o’clock train last night. I think he’ll manage to head him off all right, but Myron’s a cranky, stubborn dog and may refuse to come back.”
“Any one suspect so far?” asked Chas with knitted brows.
“Don’t think so. Good thing there’s no chapel on Sunday, isn’t it?”