“Why, she——”
“She is perfectly square and upright. She has deceived nobody. She never deceived me in all her life, and I refuse to believe any wrong of her. I have perfect and absolute confidence in Inza Burrage.”
Again Starbright inwardly exclaimed:
“You love her—you love her! If you did not, you would not have such perfect confidence in her. Perfect love gives perfect confidence. You cannot fool me, Merriwell.”
Frank turned and paced the floor slowly, seemingly buried in deep thought.
“Walter?” he muttered, as if asking himself a question. And then over and over he repeated, “Walter, Walter?”
“That was the name,” said Dick. “And he was a tall, handsome fellow, with dark hair and eyes. He looked as if he had been much exposed to the weather, for his face was brown. Who is he, Merriwell? Who does she know by the name of Walter?”
Frank shook his head.
“I can’t say,” he confessed.
“Then it is somebody of whom she has never told you,” said Dick, as if this aided in proving her deceit. “Why didn’t she tell you about him if you were such firm friends?”