“Oh, that’s all right,” laughed Mr. Cade. “You can speak before Mr. Fadden. Pull up that chair and sit down first.”
Leonard obeyed, occupying, however, only some six inches of the chair’s surface. “It’s about Gordon Renneker, sir,” he began again.
“Renneker?” The coach looked interested at once. “What about Renneker, Grant?”
“Well—” Leonard stopped and started anew: “Wouldn’t it help us a lot, Mr. Cade, if he played to-day?”
“Probably, but I thought it was understood that Renneker was—er—out of football. What’s on your mind?”
“I can’t explain it very well,” answered Leonard, “because I promised not to speak about—about part of it. That makes it—difficult.” He looked at Mr. Cade and then at Mr. Fadden as though seeking assistance. Mr. Cade frowned perplexedly.
“I’m afraid I can’t help you, Grant, for I don’t know what you’re trying to get at. If you’re troubled about Renneker not playing, why, I’ll have to tell you that there isn’t anything you can do about that. We’re looking for you to see to it that he isn’t missed, Grant. And we think you can do it.”
Leonard shook his head. “That isn’t it, sir. I know something that I can’t tell, because I promised not to.” He stopped and strove to arrange matters in his mind. He wished he had composed a statement before coming. Regarding all that Renneker had revealed to him last evening his lips were sealed. It was only about what had transpired this morning that he was not sworn to silence. It was, though, hard to keep the two apart, and he didn’t want to break his promise. Mr. Cade, watching him intently, waited in patience. Mr. Fadden puffed hard at his pipe, silently friendly. Leonard rushed the hurdle.
“If you’ll tell Renneker that you want to read a letter he received this morning, sir,” he blurted, “you’ll understand.”