“Or Mrs. Clarence,” said Clarence weakly.
Bob hung his head.
“We’ve thought of one little expedient that may help,” observed Dan, still speaking with difficulty. “While such influences as we could summon are at work on the New York end, we’ve got to square matters here. We’ve got to account for your—your—” here the commodore nearly choked—“extraordinary revelations.”
“But how,” said Bob patiently, “can you ‘account’ for them? I suppose you mean to make me out a liar?”
“Exactly,” from the commodore coolly.
“I don’t mind,” returned Bob wearily, “as long as it will help you out and I’m not one. Only I can’t say those things aren’t true.”
“You don’t have to,” said Dan succinctly. “There’s an easier way than that. No one would believe you, anyway, now.”
“That’s true.” Gloomily.
“All we need,” went on Dan, brightening a bit, “is your cooperation.”
“What can I do?”