Frank Danes half started as they left him.
“Reade's tone sounded a bit peculiar,” muttered the newcomer to himself. “I wonder why? Perhaps I have forced myself a little too much upon him and Reade has taken a dislike to me.”
If Tom had taken a dislike to the newcomer, Danes could not be sure of it from the young chief engineer's manner at table. Harry Hazelton, too, was almost gracious during the meal.
“They're a pair of half-smart, half-simple boobs,” decided Danes, as he smoked a cigar alone after dinner.
“Tom, I think your great intellect has gone astray for once,” remarked Hazelton, in the privacy of their room upstairs.
“I never knew that I had any great intellect,” Reade laughed. “However, I was born to be suspicious once in a while. I suppose you were referring to Frank Danes.”
“Yes; and he appears to be a mighty decent fellow.”
“I'm sure I hope he is,” yawned Tom. “I'm willing to give him the benefit of the doubt. I'm going to bed, Harry. What do you say?”
Hazelton was agreeable. Within twenty minutes both young engineers were sound asleep.
It was after midnight when cries of “fire!” from the street aroused them.