Dick noticed this, and he saw Chester stop and stare at the knife. He also noted a frown on Arlington’s face, a puzzled expression. Suddenly Dick showed interest.
“Let me see that knife, Arlington,” he demanded.
Chester surrendered it.
“Is this your knife?” asked Dick, with something like accusation in his voice and manner.
“No,” admitted Chester, “it is not.”
“But it came out of your pocket?”
“It dropped to the floor when I took my handkerchief out. I never saw it before.”
Dick stood looking straight at Chester. Somehow Arlington’s manner seemed truthful. In a moment, however, he grew angry beneath Dick’s persistent gaze.
“What do you mean by staring at me that way?” he demanded hotly. “Do you think I’m lying?”
“No,” said Dick, turning away and putting the knife in his pocket. “I know the owner of this knife, and I’ll give it to him.” Then he walked out.