Nor did he look
toward the boy, but Phin was squirming under the lash, his face
alternately red or ghastly.
"For such a scoundrel," continued Mr. Morton, "there is no hope
greater than the penitentiary! He is fit for nothing else. Such
a traitor would betray his best friend, or his country. Such
a sneak would be dead to all feelings of generosity. The smallest
meannesses must envelop his soul. Why, sir, the sender of these
copies of the signal code was so mean, so small minded, so sneaking
and so utterly selfish"---how Phin squirmed in his seat!---"that,
in sending the envelopes through the mail he was not even man
enough to pay full postage. Four cents was the postage required
for each envelope, but this small-souled sneak, this ungenerous
leech actually made the receivers pay half of the postage on 'due-postage'
stamps."
"I didn't!" fairly screamed red-faced Phin, leaping up out of
his chair. "I stuck a four-cent stamp on each envelope myself!
I remem-----"
Of a sudden he stopped in his impetuous burst of language. A
great hush fell in the room. Phin felt himself reeling with a
new fright.
"Then," demanded Mr. Morton, in a very low voice, his face white,
"why did you deny having sent out these envelopes containing the
copies of the code?"
There was a shuffling of feet. Two or three of the Board laughed
harshly.
"Oh, well!" burst almost incoherently from the trapped boy. "When
you employ such methods as these you make a fellow tell on himself!"
All his 'brass' was gone now.
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