“What had he to say?”asked Smithers. There was an ugly, vindictive leer on Smithers' face which Garrett never liked and which in his better moments he detested. He really despised him, and all his life he had never associated with this class of boy. Not being in very good humor, he said:
“He had no compliments for you, at any rate.”
“Didn't expect he had. It's not very likely that one hanging over a precipice with regard to his reputation, as he is, would have any compliments for any one. But what did he say, anyway?”
“Oh, nothing,” answered Garrett. “I find that he is more fully aware of the suspicions against him than I imagined. He is pretty sore under them, I can tell you.”
Smithers' eyes glittered with satisfaction. By a strange perversion he was pleased that Henning was suffering. Why? The answer is difficult. Because, perhaps, Henning had done him many a good turn. In time of necessity he was glad enough to receive assistance. When better times came for him, he promptly forgot. He lacked gratitude. He was only one more exemplification of the old adage: “If you want to lose a friend, lend him money, and if
you want to gain an enemy put some one under great obligations to you.”
“Sore, is he? I can make him sorer still. Have you heard what has been found?”asked Smithers, looking first at Stockley and then at Garrett.
Had the latter been a little more observant he would have noticed Smithers' eyelids twitch in an unmistakably nervous way, and his fingers open and close spasmodically.
“No, I have not. Not the stolen money, I suppose," laughed Garrett mirthlessly.
“Not much,” said Smithers, “that's not likely to be found. I guess that's gone for good.”