...of deception

We look bad, whatever we do.
Wait a minute. The term isn’t over yet. How many are enrolled?
Four. The dean seemed flustered.
Four? Is that all? Four. Palfrey shook his wattles. I was told the course would draw dozens.
It did a bit better at the beginning.
In that case, just wait until the semester ends and tell him you have to close down the class because of too few funds, Miss Hazlet said. She seemed quite sure of herself. He won’t know he’s been found out; he’s not likely to complain; nothing scandalous has occurred; no breach of our hiring rules has been broken; the fat caucus can’t complain. A lack of students… a lack of students is a legitimate excuse. Even a tenured person can be got rid of without fuss if you eliminate their subject. And there won’t be any story.
I don’t know, Joey heard himself saying, despite his silent vow. I think we should throw the book at him, set an example, use this bad situation to reaffirm our principles, and advertise them. This guy took advantage of our goodwill - society’s, too. Who knows what guff he has been stuffing in the students’s ears. He probably doesn’t know where Ames is.
Well, there is something in what you say… Palfrey paused. [……]
Whittlebauer exposes a mountebank. That doesn’t make for an embarrassing story.
It’s still pretty hard to explain.
It might hurt his furniture business.
I was hoping he would be of assistance with our town/gown relations. And there are members of our board who thought we ought to have geography. Palfrey released an unhealthy sigh.
What kind of documents did the man profess to have? It might be worth taking a look at his application.
Skizzen believed that Smullion knew exactly what he was suggesting.
No need, no time, for that. It was, I assure you, in apple-pie order. Palfrey put his palm down on the papers before him. His entire weight assisted in the gesture. It fairly flattened his cup.
Who cares about his furniture business? Would you want to buy a sofa from a guy who pretended to have approval from… what was it?… Ames? There Skizzen was, participating again, inviting scrutiny. He tried to chastise himself but even the spears of fear that struck him intermittently did the trick. Like… like Saint… Saint Sebastian… A vow of silence, made silently, is not worth a librarian’s psst. Could this be the trial of someone else?

[Middle C, Gass, W. H.]