The more he thought it over, the more Hockley became convinced that he could do little or nothing. Of course, if it came to the pinch, J. Rutherford Brown would deny everything, and as there were no witnesses to what had occurred, legal proof would be hard to obtain.
“I’ve been a chump,” he muttered as he walked out of the hotel. “A downright chump.”
As there seemed nothing else to do, he turned his footsteps in the direction of the hotel at which the professor and the other boys were stopping. His heart felt like lead in his bosom and he could not for the life of him conjure up what to say. He knew that excuses would be unavailing, that Professor Strong would insist upon making a rigid investigation.
As he turned a corner leading to the hotel he came face to face with Professor Strong, who was walking with another man, a native hired to show the party the sights.
“Jacob Hockley,” cried the professor. “Where have you been? We have been hunting everywhere for you.”
“It’s a long story, sir,” answered Hockley, meekly. “And if you please, I’d like to get breakfast before I tell it.”
“So you have had nothing to eat? Then come to the hotel by all means. But where have you been?”
“Out of town, a good many miles, I guess.”
“Out of town?”
“Yes, sir. And I’ve lost the most of my money,” went on the lank youth, desperately.