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 doorway, crunching crackers. . . . And naturally the fraternity resented the implication. Scandal in college was not an individual affair, it was a fraternity affair. This, a scratch on the cherished escutcheon of Zeta Kappa.

His determination to shield Brad never wavered. But a little instinct for self-preservation made him say, "As for that, you can tell Ken Kennedy—or I'll tell him myself—that Eunice telephoned me that night to tell me Brad was missing, and to ask me to try to find him. He had said he'd be back at nine, and at one he hadn't come, and she was scared. That's why I went over there. I was going out to look for him, but he came in just a few minutes after I got there."

"Where had he been?" Bones interrogated.

This required a lie. "I don't know, he didn't say. He'd had engine trouble somewhere—that was what made him so late."

"Well," Bones said drearily, "you ought to talk to the boys about it. You ought to stick up for yourself. This damn talk that's going around—there's no sense to it—and it would only take a few words from you ta set it straight, with the fraternity at least. They don't want to think the things they're thinking, Jock! If you only knew why Brad did it, some logical reason that would let you out—but you don't, do you?" His voice was pleading.

"No," said Jock, looking him straight in the eyes. "No, I haven't any idea."

Following this conversation, he considered having a talk with Ken Kennedy and some of the others, But in the end he decided against it. "I can't tell 'em the truth," he reflected, "and anything less wouldn't do any good. Hell, let 'oem think what they want to."

Still, he felt somewhat bitter. "Brothers." There