“I don't think I'm at liberty to tell that,” replied the captain. “Perhaps I shouldn't have said as much as I have.”
“It'll all be confidential,” said Professor Davisson, and the others nodded their confirmation. As for Lanny, he kept up a pretense of interest in his food, and prayed that nobody would notice the blood that had been stealing into his cheeks and throat, and even, so he felt, to the roots of his hair.
VII
When the party broke up, Lanny said to his chief: “I wish you'd take me upstairs to your room for a minute. There's something important I want to tell you.” When they were alone, he explained: “I can't be sure, but I think the man Captain Stratton was talking about is my uncle, Jesse Blackless.”
“The heck you say!” exclaimed the startled professor.
“I thought you ought to know right away, because it might prove embarrassing if it comes out.”
Lanny told briefly about this “red sheep” of his mother's family. “There aren't apt to be two American painters who are such active Reds. I know he's in Paris now, because he came to see my mother, to advise her about the best way to arrange for an exhibition of my stepfather's paintings.”
“Well, well!” said the professor. “A trifle awkward, I must admit.”
“It could be terribly so. I'm afraid there's nothing for me but to quit before the story breaks.”
The older man smiled. “No, you don't get off so easily! I assure you, I need you too badly. We'll work out some other solution.”