“Here,” said Lee, “use what you want out of this one. It belonged to that fellow Storms, but he will do his making up in jail for some time.”
Frank began work with the grease paint, and then Dunton came in. He stopped and glared at Merry, astonished to find him in that dressing room.
“What the——” he began, and then stopped short.
A moment later Dunton made a dive forward and caught up the make-up box Frank was using.
“Well, talk about crust!” he snarled; “this beats! Drop that stick of grease paint!”
Frank turned and surveyed him, quietly asking:
“Why?”
“It doesn’t belong to you.”
“Does it belong to you?”
“Yes.”