“Not suspected you, but that you knew something about them; but I beg your pardon: I am sorry I ever thought such things; and I am sure you will forgive me, for indeed I do not think you know anything of the kind now.”
Dick quite started as he gazed in Mr Marston’s face, so strangely that the engineer wondered, and then felt chilled once more and stood without speaking.
Mr Marston took a step up and down for a few moments and then turned to Dick again.
“Look here, my lad,” he said. “I don’t like for there to be anything between us. I want to be friends with you, for I like you, Richard Winthorpe; but you keep on making yourself appear so guilty that you repel me. Speak to me, Dick, and say out downright, like a man, that you know nothing about this last affair.”
Dick looked at him wildly, but remained silent.
“Come!” said Mr Marston sternly, and he fixed the lad with his eye; “there has been a dastardly outrage committed and your father nearly murdered. Tell me plainly whether you know whose hand fired the shot.”
No answer.
“Dick, my good lad, I tell you once more that I do not suspect you—only that you know who was the guilty party.”
Still no answer.
“It is your duty to speak, boy,” cried Mr Marston angrily. “You are not afraid to speak out?”