There was that awful "oo" sound again! Litton was in an icy perspiration; but he was even more afraid for his beloved, precious sweetheart than for himself--and that was being about as much afraid as there is. Teed went on relentlessly, gloating like a satyric mask: "Well, I had an idea, and the girls fell for it with a yip of joy. The next evening I called I carried a wire from my room across to that dormitory and nobody paid any attention while I brought it through a window and under the carpet to the back of the sofa. And there it waited, laying for you. And over at my digs I had it attached to a phonograph by a little invention of my own. "Gosh! It was wonderful! It even repeated the creak of those old, rusty springs while you waited for her. And when she came--well, anyway, I got every word you said, engraved in wax, like one of those old poets of yours used to write on." Litton was afraid to ask evidence in verification. Teed supplied the unspoken demand: "For instance, the first thing she says to you is: 'Oh, there you are, my little lover! I thought you'd never come!' And you says, 'Did it miss its stupid old Stookie?' And she says: 'Hideously! Sit down, honey heart.' And splung went the spring--and splung again! Then she says: 'Did it have a mis'ble day in hateful old class-room? Put its boo'ful head on Margy-wargy's shojer.' Then you says--" "Stop!" Litton cried, raising the only missile he could find, an inkstand. "Who knows of this infamy besides you?" "Nobody yet--on my word of honor." "Honor!" sneered Litton, so savagely that Teed's shameless leer vanished in a glare of anger. "Nobody yet! The girls are dying to hear and some of the fellows knew what I was up to; but I was thinking that I'd tell 'em that the blamed thing didn't work, provided--provided--" "Provided?" Litton wailed, miserably. "Provided you could see your way clear to being a little careless with your marks on my exam-papers." Litton sat with his head whirling and roaring like a coffee-grinder. A multitude of considerations ran through and were crushed into powder--his honor; her honor; the standards of the university; the standards of a lover; the unimportance of Teed; the all-importance of Martha; the secret disloyalty to the faculty; the open disloyalty to his best-beloved. He heard Teed's voice as from far off: "Of course, if you can't see your way to sparing my sweetheart's feelings I don't see why I'm expected to spare yours--or to lie to the fellows and girls who are perishing to hear how two professors talk when they're in love." Another long pause. Then the artful Teed moved to the door and turned the knob. Litton could not speak; but he threw a look that was like a grappling-iron and Teed came back. "How do I know," Litton moaned, "how do I know that you will keep your word?" "How do I know that you'll keep yours?" Teed replied, with the insolence of a conqueror. "Sir!" Litton flared, but weakly, like a sick candle.