“I’ve verified my facts. There is only one man in the city besides myself that knows this, and he’s Barry’s closest friend. There’ll be a jolly old sensation in the bunch, when I spring my mine.”
“If nobody knows it, how did you happen to find out?” asked Madeline impulsively.
There was just a moment’s silence, and in that instant Norris had a flash of memory. He seemed to see Dick eying a letter addressed to William Barry, Esquire. Even while he remembered, he hated himself for daring to suspect that Dick would be capable of anything really shabby or dishonorable. Yet he did suspect—nay, more—he was sure; and the pause, the look of innocent inquiry on Madeline’s face grew intolerable. If Dick would say nothing, he, Norris, must.
“We newspaper men,” he rushed in gaily, “get hold of a vast amount of information that people flatter themselves is secret.”
Percival looked at him and grinned. The girl turned slowly from her amused survey of Dick to study Ellery’s face, which showed his discomfort in its flush. If a girl so gentle could feel scorn, Ellery would have thought he detected a touch of it. Certainly there was a hint of grieved surprise as she spoke, with her eyes still fixed on Norris.
“I’m very sorry, Dick,” she said humbly. “I didn’t mean to be prying. I’ve grown so used to asking you about everything. Mr. Norris ought to get a better mask.”
She laughed lightly, but Ellery’s face grew hotter. He wondered if she suspected him of some underhand trickery, and Dick realized it, yet kept amused silence. For an instant he hated Dick, and felt a wild impulse to defend himself; but second thoughts came quickly. She loved Dick and was therefore slow to impute evil to him. Dick loved her, and if he had for once played the petty knave, it was the place of a friend to protect her against that knowledge. That had been the instinctive reason for Norris’ words, and he was not going back on them now. Yet Ellery’s brain whirled to think how swiftly and by what simple means he might have toppled her slowly-ripening friendship into the mire. Ellery’s imagination piled superlatives on every act and expression of his lady. If she looked light disapproval, it was worse than another’s scorn. And Dick—for whom he had thrown away the thing he most valued in the world—Dick exclaimed gaily:
“Don’t be suspicious, Madeline. Are all secrets disgraceful? Can’t you trust your old friends?”
“Of course I’m not suspicious,” she answered indignantly. “I only mean to beg your pardon, Dick, and I assure you again that I’m not curious, even. I asked this question as I have asked a thousand others, and that would have been the end of it——except for Mr. Norris’ face.”
She smiled as she turned away, and Dick lifted his eyebrows and shrugged his shoulders as much as to say, “What difference does it make, anyway? What difference!” Dick didn’t care whether she despised Ellery or not—he didn’t care enough to speak an honorable word of explanation.