"What on earth's up?" inquired Dunstable, amazed at these phenomena.
"Have you been scrapping?"

"Yes--Merrett--I won. What are you up to--writing lines? You may as
well save yourself the trouble. They won't be any good." Dunstable
stared.

"The Trust's bust," said Linton.

He never wasted words in moments of emotion.

"What!"

"'Bust' was what I said. That beast Merrett gave the show away."

"What did he do? Surely he didn't tell a master?"

"Well, he did the next thing to it. He hauled out that prospectus, and
started reading it in form. I watched him do it. He kept it under the
desk and made a foul row, laughing over it. Appleby couldn't help
spotting him. Of course, he told him to bring him what he was reading.
Up went Merrett with the prospectus."

"Was Appleby sick?"

"I don't believe he was, really. At least, he laughed when he read the
thing. But he hauled me up after school and gave me a long jaw, and
made me take all the lines I'd got to his house. He burnt them. I had
it out with Merrett just now. He swears he didn't mean to get the
thing spotted, but I knew he did."