“Let him talk. Free speech!” said Longley.
“Fellows,” interrupted Wallace Cathcart mildly, “we’re making it very difficult for Mr. Bowles. Besides, he’s not going to tell you anything, and I will, if you’ll be quiet a minute.”
“Shoot!” said Nick. “Shut up, everyone! Go ahead, Wal.”
“Well, I suppose Hugh will want my life blood,” went on Cathcart, smiling at Hugh’s frowning and anxious countenance, “but I’ll trust to you fellows to save me.”
“He shan’t touch a bone of your head,” Pop assured him.
“I know he doesn’t want it known, fellows, but I don’t see why it shouldn’t be. Besides, it’s bound to get out some time, isn’t it?”
“I guess so,” agreed Nick. “What are you talking about?”
“It was something Hugh let drop in my room one day that made me—well, suspicious. There’s a book in the library that tells all about the English nobility and titled families and all that, you know, and so I had a look at it. Hugh had told me that he lived at a place called Glyndestoke, and so the rest was easy.”
Everyone was silent and curious, everyone save Hugh. Hugh was palpably unhappy.