“I was sure of it!” he squawked, shaking a quivering finger in the air. “I was sure I had heard of that old reprobate! I looked over my notes. Boys, he’s a miserable old rounder! He’s a man with a bad record! He ought to be in prison! He would be in prison if he had his just deserts! He disgraced himself and his family in England! He left his own country on account of his reputation. That’s the kind of man he is.”
“Who are you talking about?” asked Dick.
“Sir Augustus Camberwell,” answered the professor. “And he’s the friend of Cavendish!”
“Now we know how the land lays, partner,” said Brad.
Dick rose to his feet, catching up his hat and light topcoat.
“Come, Buckhart,” he said grimly.
“What are you going to do?”
“I’m going out to get some air. I’m afraid we have been chumps of the chumpiest variety.”
“I’m with you,” said the Texan.
“Boys, boys, boys!” spluttered the professor. “I hope you are not going to do anything more that is rash. I can’t permit it. I must object. I must put my foot down.”