“And can we get him—get Tom Fairfield—where we want him?” asked Professor Skeel eagerly. “That’s what I want to know.”
“Yes, I think we can,” answered Murker, an unpleasant grin spreading over his evil face. “I haven’t all the details worked out yet, but when I get through, I think we’ll have him just where we want him. Not that I want him particularly,” he went on. “I never knew him before you fellows got me into this,” and when he classed Professor Skeel as a “fellow,” the latter did not object.
It showed to what depths the really talented man had fallen. For Professor Skeel was a brilliant scholar, and would have made his mark in educational circles, had he chosen to be honest. But he took the easiest way, which ends by being the hardest.
“I don’t ask you to take any interest in Tom Fairfield, once you help me get him in my power,” went on the former instructor. “I’ll attend to the rest. But I want him alone. I don’t want to have to handle any of the others.”
“I should say not!” exclaimed Whalen. “We’ll have our hands full, if we try to take care of all four of ’em.”
“Oh, I wouldn’t be afraid,” was the sneering comment of Murker. “I guess we could persuade ’em to be good,” and he leered at his companions.
“Four are too many to handle,” decided Professor Skeel. “I want Tom Fairfield alone.”
“And I’ll get him for you,” promised Murker. “But you’ve got to give me a share of the ransom money.”
“Oh, I’ll do that,” readily agreed the former teacher. “I’m doing this as much to square accounts with him as for anything else.”