"It was Dulcie Vale," came the treacherous answer.

"I knew it." Leslie brought one hand sharply down against the other.

"What else has Dulcie told you?"

"About what?" counter-questioned the soph.o.m.ore.

"That's what I am asking you." Leslie leaned forward in her chair, steady eyes on her vis-a-vis.

Elizabeth experienced inward trepidation. Dulcie had told her a great many things which she had promptly repeated to friends of hers under promise of secrecy. Suppose Leslie had traced some bit of gossip to her.

She had heard that Leslie could pretend affability when she was the angriest. She might be only using Dulcie as a blind in order to extract a confession from her.

"I don't quite understand you, Leslie," she a.s.serted, knitting her light brows. "Dulcie has talked to me a little about the Sans. I never mentioned a word she said to anyone else."

"That's not the point. I am not accusing you of talking too much. You made a remark the other day which I took as an a.s.sumption that you had been told about the summons. I knew Dulcie had told you. Dulcie has said things to others, too."

"Oh, I know that." Confidence returning, Elizabeth was quick to place the blame on the absent Dulcie.

"Yes; and so do I. It is very necessary that I should get to the bottom of her talk. Some say one thing about her, some another. I thought I could rely on you for the facts."

"I don't care to have any trouble with Dulcie over this," deprecated Elizabeth.

"You won't. Your name won't be mentioned in it. All I need is the facts.

You will be doing me a great favor. If there is anything I can do for you in return, let me know." Leslie had donned her cloak of pseudo-sincerity.

"Oh, no; there is nothing." Elizabeth slowly shook her head. "I-well, I wouldn't want you to think I _cared_ for a return." Her manner plainly indicated that there was something Leslie might do for her if she chose.

"What is it you want?" Leslie exhibited marked impatience. "Favor for favor you know," she added boldly. "I never mince matters."

"I am crazy to play on the soph basket-ball team. Do you think you can fix it for me?"

"Surest thing ever. Leonard is peeved and has tossed up sports. Two of the Sans are on committee. Is that all you need?"

"Yes." The wide babyish eyes registered a flash of gratification. "You are so _kind_, Leslie. Thank you a thousand times. I know you won't fail me."

"You're welcome. I'll fix it for you tomorrow. One bit of advice. Don't play unless you are an expert."

"I am. When I was at prep school--"

"Never mind about that now. You go ahead and tell me what I asked you.

It is almost six and Nat will be here soon."

"Oh, will she?" The soph.o.m.ore cast an apprehensive glance toward the door. "Is she a very good friend of Dulcie's?"

"She's a better friend of mine," was the bored reply. Leslie was growing tired of being kept from what she burned to know. "Please don't waste any more time, Bess. We can't talk after Nat comes in. I don't believe I'll be able to see you again before Sat.u.r.day. I'm awfully busy. I'll lunch you at the Lotus then. We'll use my roadster for the trip to town.

What?"

Elated at having gleaned from Leslie a promise of benefit to herself and an invitation to luncheon, Elizabeth once more stipulated that her name should be left out of the revelation. Again rea.s.sured, she proceeded to regale Leslie with the confidences Dulcie had imparted to her at various times. She talked steadily for almost half an hour. Leslie gave her free rein, interrupting her but little.

"It's even worse than I had thought," Leslie declared grimly, when Elizabeth could recall nothing more to tell. "Bess, if you know when you are well off, you will never tell a soul what you have told me. Part of it isn't true. Dulcie was romancing to you about that hazing affair. We talked about it for fun, but that was all. Why, we were all at the masquerade that night."

"Dulcie wasn't," flatly contradicted the other. "She had a black eye.

She said she was hurt at that house when--"

"Dulcie b.u.mped into the door of her room that night with her mask on,"

interrupted Leslie angrily. "So she told us. If she was where she claims she was, certainly we were not with her. This isn't the first foolish rumor of the kind she has started. It's a good thing the rest of the girls don't know this. They'd never forgive Dulcie for starting such yarns. As for that trouble she claims we had with Miss Remson. There was nothing to that, either. We have never exchanged a word with Remson on the subject. I don't mind what she told you about the summons. The rest of her lies! Well, there is this much to it, Dulcie is due to hear from me and in short order."

CHAPTER XIV-SANS' MERCY

Despite Leslie's denials, Elizabeth left her room only half convinced.

Being as lost to honor as Leslie, she was also as shrewd. She made a vow to keep her own counsel thereafter. She knew herself to be as guilty as Dulcie. She hoped Leslie would never discover that. Leslie had promised that her name should not be mentioned in the matter. If brought to book by Leslie, Dulcie could not accuse her of circulating the stories intrusted to her without incriminating herself. Elizabeth felt quite safe on that score.

For two or three days after her call upon Leslie, she kept out of Dulcie's way for fear the latter had been taken to task for her treachery and might suspect her as being instrumental in having brought it about. On Friday, however, she met Dulcie in the library. Dulcie invited her to dinner at the Colonial and she went without a tremor of conscience. The former was not in a gossiping humor that day. She was doing badly in all her subjects and worried in consequence.

Elizabeth went calmly to luncheon at the Lotus with Leslie on Sat.u.r.day, pluming herself in that she was on excellent terms with both factions.

She reported to Leslie her meeting with Dulcie on Friday, saying lamely that Dulcie never gossiped a bit about the Sans. "She hadn't better,"

Leslie had returned vengefully. "She has done mischief enough already."

When Elizabeth had ventured to inquire when Dulcie was to be "called down," Leslie had said, "When I get ready to do it. I'm not ready yet."

Natalie and Joan Myers had been informed by Leslie of Dulcie's treachery. The trio had then set to work to discover how much damage she had done; something not easy to determine. Natalie and Joan demanded that she should be dropped from the club. They were sure the others would be of the same mind. Even Eleanor Ray, her former chum, was on the outs with Dulcie. There would be no objection to the penalty from Eleanor. Leslie's plan was to gather the evidence against Dulcie, place it before the Sans, minus the culprit, at a private meeting, and let them decide her fate. In spite of Leslie Cairns' unscrupulous disposition, she had a queer sense of justice which occasionally stirred within her. Thus she was bent on being sure of her ground before accusing Dulcie to her face.

After a week had pa.s.sed and the three had learned nothing new regarding the circulation of their misdeeds about the campus, Leslie called a meeting of the club in her room while Dulcie was absent from the Hall.

Indignation ran high at the revelation. The verdict was, "Drop her from the club." Notwithstanding the possibility pointed out by Leslie that she might turn on them and betray them to headquarters, her a.s.sociates were keen for dropping her.

"What harm can she do us?" argued Margaret Wayne. "She can't give us away to Doctor Matthews without cooking her own goose. That's our only danger from her. It's our word against hers. Any stories she has told on the campus will never go further than among the students. It is too bad!

Dulcie should have known better than to be so utterly treacherous. She deserves to be dropped. We could never trust her again."

"That's what I think," concurred Joan Myers. "Even if her tales _did_ bring about a private inquiry, it is our word against hers. We have really walked with a sword over our heads since last Saint Valentine's night. It has never fallen. I say, _simply fire_ Dulcie from the Sans, and be done with it. Let it be a lesson to the rest of us to be discreet."

"When is the deed to be done?" Adelaide Forman inquired.

"I don't know yet. I want you girls to see what you can glean on the campus. I must have every sc.r.a.p of evidence against her that I can get,"

Leslie announced. "We may not be able to spring it on her for a week or two. When we do, the meeting will be in this room. I'll hang a heavy curtain over the door so we won't be heard. If she gets very angry she will raise her voice to a positive shriek."

"Wouldn't it be better to hold that meeting outside the Hall? Dulcie will raise an awful fuss. If she hadn't told something I made her swear she wouldn't tell, I would not hear to having her treated that way. I am down on her for that very reason. Otherwise I would feel very sorry for her," explained Eleanor Ray.

"I am not on good terms with her. She made trouble between Evangeline and me last week. We only straightened it up today." Joan volunteered this information. "Leslie's room is the best place for the meeting. It is situated so that Dulcie won't be heard if she cries or flies into a temper."

While among the Sans there was not one girl who had not stooped to dishonorable acts since her entrance into Hamilton College, the fact of Dulcie's defection seemed monstrous indeed.

"Be careful what you say to Bess Walbert," Natalie took the liberty of saying. "How much does she know about what we shall do with Dulc? What did you tell her about it?"

"I said I had heard other things Dulcie had been saying; that she was due to hear from me for gossiping. That such yarns must be stopped. I warned her to keep to herself whatever Dulc had told her. She promised silence. I don't know." Leslie shrugged dubiously. "Take a leaf from Nat's book, girls, and keep mum to Bess. She may try to pump you. She's crazy to know what I am going to say to Dulc and when the fuss is to come off."

Natalie flushed her gratification of Leslie's approbation. The others received their leader's counsel with marked respect. The news of Dulcie's perfidy had given them food for uneasy reflection.