"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.
"What _do_ you mean? They oughtn't to take more than a week surely to
go through the papers."
"Oh, I wasn't talking about that," I said. "I was thinking of Mr
Smith's story."
"Why, what's up with you, Fred? You've gone daft about Mr Smith,
surely. What's strange and sad?"
"The story of his life, Jack. He was once--"
"Stop," said Jack, firmly. "I dare say it's all you say, Fred, but I'd
rather you didn't tell it me."
"Why not?" I said.
"He told it to you, but not to me. If he wants me to know it, he will
tell me himself."
I could not but feel the rebuke. Had I but been as careful of another
secret, half my troubles would never have come upon me.
"You are quite right, Jack," I said. "I know by this time that I should
have no business to tell other people's secrets. But, as it happens,
Mr Smith is anxious for me to tell you his story; and that is the
reason, I believe, why he has insisted on leaving us together to-night."