“But if the person suspected is innocent, he can very well prove it. Ah, here is Tom Tallington! Come, Tom, my lad, you can help me here with your old companion.”
“No,” cried Dick angrily, “don’t ask him.”
“I shall ask him,” said Mr Marston firmly. “Look here, Tom; our friend Dick here either knows or suspects who it was that fired that shot; and if he knows that, he can tell who fired the other shots, and perhaps did all the other mischief.”
“Do you know, Dick?” cried Tom excitedly.
“I don’t know for certain, I only suspect,” said Dick sadly.
“And I want him to speak out, my lad, while he persists in trying to hide it.”
“He won’t,” said Tom. “He thinks it is being a bit of a coward to tell tales; but he knows it is right to tell, don’t you, Dick?”
“No,” said the latter sternly.
“You do, now,” said Tom. “Come, I say, let’s know who it was. Here, shall I call father?”
“No, no,” cried Dick excitedly, “and I won’t say a word. I cannot. It is impossible.”