“There’s some black motive back of what he’s doing.”
“The fact that he came to the Ophir and asked for a job proves——”
“You don’t know what it proves,” cut in Col Hawtrey irascibly. “Lenning is deep. There is no guessing what he has at the back of his head.”
“I think he ought to have a chance.”
“Why didn’t he take his thousand dollars, go away somewhere where no one knows him and try to make a man of himself? He had a chance then—a better chance than he’ll ever get again—and he threw it away. He’s tricky, and he’s not in earnest.”
“He was training with Shoup when he squandered that money, colonel,” urged Merriwell. “Now he and Shoup have quarreled, and Lenning hasn’t his influence to fight. If Mr. Bradlaugh will take Lenning on my say-so, I’m here to ask him to let Lenning have that job as night watchman.”
“You’re making a rash move,” declared the colonel, “and it is a move that will get you into trouble as sure as fate.” He turned to Mr. Bradlaugh. “Don’t let Merriwell do something he’ll be sorry for, Bradlaugh,” said he.
There was a grim expression on the general manager’s face. “How am I to help myself, colonel?” he asked.
“Help yourself? Why, you can refuse to put Lenning on your pay roll, in spite of what Merriwell says. That is the best move you could make for all concerned.”
Bradlaugh sat back in his chair, and, for a few minutes, was deep in thought. At last he roused up to address Colonel Hawtrey, once more.