“Here, come to a quiet place. You mustn’t be seen in public,” growled the colonel. 212
“Why not?” asked Dick. “I’m a little faint. You see, I haven’t much money. I had to borrow. A square meal, at your expense, would do me a world of good, colonel. Let’s go to the dining-room.”
“Very well. We can get a quiet table there. But I want you to understand at once that, though I’m here, I’m not your friend.”
“Eh? What?”
“Well, you can’t expect it.”
“Oh, you’re angry with me because I’m fond of Dora. I suppose you saw my telegram and—intercepted it.”
“Yes.”
“Then Dora doesn’t know!”
“No, Dora doesn’t know—nor will she know. Better be dead, my boy—better be dead!”
“I beg your pardon?” queried Dick, gazing at the colonel with dull, tired eyes.