John Bruce dipped the pen in the ink, and wrote in a small hand:
“Dear Mr. Larmon:—”
He looked up in a cowed way.
“All right!” grunted Crang. “I guess we'll kill another bird, too, while we're at it.” He smiled cryptically. “Go on again, and write!”
And John Bruce wrote as Crang dictated:
“I'm here in my rooms in the same hotel with you, but am closely watched. Our compact is known. I asked a girl to marry me, and in doing so felt she had the right to my full confidence. She did me in. She——”
John Bruce's pen had halted.
“Go on!” prompted Crang sharply. “It's got to sound right for Larmon—so that he will believe it. He's not a fool, is he?”
“No,” said John Bruce.
“Well, go on then!”