“Repeat what you told us just now, Shesgren,” says Dick. “If Parker wants to brazen it out, I’m willing to take a little extra trouble.”
Parker laughed when Shesgren, trembling with anger, finished.
“You ought to start writing for the magazines, Shesgren,” he said. “I suppose I don’t need to tell you, Mr. Merriwell, that there isn’t a word of truth in all this wild story?”
“You certainly need not tell me that,” said Dick, “because I know that you’re not telling the truth when you do. I have also seen Mr. Chetwind. He has told me who it was that acted for him, or with him, in this matter.”
“Yes?” said Parker. “He didn’t mention my name, by any chance?”
“No,” said Dick. “You were quite clever there. But you forgot one thing. Chetwind named Shesgren—but he described you.”
“Really,” said Parker, “this is getting rather tiresome. I’ve got some work to do. I’ll be glad to see you some other time, but as you haven’t anything really important to say, perhaps you’ll leave me alone now.”
“Then you refuse to admit that these things are so?” asked Dick, pretending to be much cast down.
“I can’t do anything else,” said Parker calmly, though his eyes showed his delight, for he thought he had won.
“Well, in that case,” Dick began, risingly slowly to his feet. “Oh, by the way, can you lend me a knife? I want——”