The silence which followed his remark was eloquent. Wilmerding glanced from one frowning face to the other, and raised his eyebrows.
“What’s the matter?” he inquired. “Have I struck a false note?”
“You certainly have if you sized up that cur as decent,” Stillman retorted impulsively.
“You don’t mean it!” Wilmerding exclaimed. “Why, he seemed very pleasant. What’s he done to get you two on his neck?”
“What he did at college was enough to get any self-respecting fellow down on him, let alone the dirty tricks he’s tried since then.”
The plump chap looked puzzled. “At college?” he repeated. “I don’t understand, Jack.”
“You will when I tell you that he was the one who stole Bob Ferris’ watch and money, and then tried to put the blame on Lefty.”
The effect of his words on Wilmerding was extraordinary. The healthy glow faded swiftly from the plump cheeks, leaving them pale and mottled. His jaw dropped, and for an instant he sat staring at the reporter with startled eyes.
“Impossible!” he gasped at last, in a hoarse, trembling voice.