“Oh, you ought to know better than I do. I really have hardly seen him the last few days. I’ve not heard him cough so much, though.”
“He’s not been himself at all the last few days,” I said.
“No wonder,” said Jack. “That night’s work was enough to upset anybody.”
“Oh, I don’t mean in that way,” I said, feeling hopeless as to ever getting out my secret. “Though I am sure he was very much concerned about Billy. But he seems to have other things on his mind too.”
“Has he? He works too hard, that’s what it is; and not content with that,” added he, “he insists on sitting up all night with Billy.”
There was another pause. I was no nearer than before, and for any hint I had given Jack of what was coming he knew as little of it as he did of the North Pole.
I must be more explicit, or I should never get out with it.
“Do you know, Jack,” said I presently, “he’s been telling me a good deal of his history lately?”
“Oh,” said Jack, “you two have got to be quite chummy. By the way, we ought to hear the result of the exam, on Tuesday, certainly.”
“It is very strange and sad,” said I, thinking more of what was in my mind than of what he was saying.