“Only he looked at us out of those little black eyes of his,” Dick confided to me privately, afterwards, “as though he would like to kill us on the spot. I’m afraid the whole thing was a mistake, Biffkins. If he hadn’t had that attack of heart disease, I believe we’d have got the whole story out of him—if he knows it; but we really only succeeded in converting an adversary into a bitter enemy. Whatever he may pretend, I’m sure he’s our bitter enemy now.”
These were large words for Dick to use in conversation, and they showed how serious he thought the matter was. But I made light of it.
“I don’t suppose he was any too friendly before,” I said, “in spite of all his protests about playing fair. Certainly we didn’t expect any help from him. And I don’t see how he can do us any harm.”
“Well, maybe not,” agreed Dick, slowly. “But just the same, it was a mighty foolish thing to do.”
Indeed, as I thought it over afterwards, Mr. Tunstall had considerable cause to congratulate himself on the outcome of the adventure, and on his opportune fainting-fit. But for that, his secret, if he possessed one, might really have been frightened out of him; though now I think of it, it seems improbable that even the most ghostly of apparitions would have impressed him as supernatural. He had played that game too often himself.
“And oh, Biffkins,” added Dick, “you should have seen the place where he lives. It’s a little gray house, so shut in by trees and shrubbery that you can’t see it from the road at all, even in winter. In fact, a good many of the trees are evergreens, so that winter doesn’t make any difference. A funny little old woman let us in, and we had to sit in a little stuffy hall for ever so long before Mr. Tunstall came out to us. And he didn’t ask us in—just stood and listened and glowered, with his hands under his coat-tails, and then sent us about our business. I tell you, I felt mighty small.”
“Well, I felt pretty small last night,” I said, “when I found out how he’d fooled me.”
“He’s a slick one,” was Dick’s final comment, and I echoed the verdict.
Dick started for Riverdale, right after lunch, with the list of things which we would need before the month was up, and I took advantage of his absence to put into effect the plan which had flashed into my head the day before, when mother was talking about our studies. I went over to Mrs. Chester’s and told her all about it, and the result was that Mr. Chester called upon mother that very evening, and suggested that Dick and Tom study together under the same tutor.