“Very likely,” Elgin returned hastily. “I don’t doubt that you’re right.” His voice was quite lacking in conviction, however. It was the tone of one agreeing out of mere politeness and because he was anxious to get away from a disagreeable subject. Miss Harting, being keen of perception, noticed this, and her smile faded. “You don’t really mean that?” she said abruptly. Elgin spread out his hands depreciatingly. “I wish you wouldn’t,” he returned. “A fellow can’t help having his opinions, you know. Let’s change the subject.” “But I don’t want to change the subject,” she retorted warmly. “I insist on your telling me why you don’t agree with me.” The pitcher’s long lashes drooped over his eyes, and he bit his lip. “I knew Hazelton very well at college,” he began slowly. “We were friends until――certain things――came up which showed me――” he threw back his head, and looked her full in the eyes. “I can’t do it!” he burst out. “Please don’t ask me, Miss Harting. I’ve said more now than I should have. No matter what my opinion of him may be, I won’t talk about a fellow behind his back.” His attitude of manly embarrassment was so well done that the girl was completely deceived. She was angry at herself for having led the conversation into this channel, but her estimation of this man who would say nothing against another with whom he was evidently not on friendly terms, increased by leaps and bounds. They chatted on various other topics for a little while, but the conversation could not fail to be slightly constrained, and Elgin soon took his leave. After he had gone Janet Harting returned to the parlor and stood for a space leaning thoughtfully against the mantel. “It’s absurd!” she exclaimed aloud presently. “There’s been some misunderstanding between them. I won’t believe that Phil is anything but straightforward and absolutely honorable. He couldn’t do or think a mean thing. I’ll forget that I ever heard a whisper against him.” But this was not quite possible. In spite of her determination, a nagging little doubt returned more than once to trouble Janet Harting. Somehow, she could not forget that Bert Elgin had known Hazelton at college――known him for years probably, with chances for seeing phases of his character which the intimate life at a big university alone can give; while her own acquaintance with that selfsame individual was limited to nine brief months. CHAPTER XVIII THE MAN IN THE CORRIDOR “Hang such weather!” grumbled Buck Fargo, gazing disconsolately out of the dripping window. It was not a strictly original remark, considering the fact that it had been uttered, in some form or another, on an average of every five minutes since breakfast time. Nevertheless, it was fervently echoed by each one of the players who lounged within hearing distance in the lobby.