“Is either of us as tall as Mr. Longcluse?” asked David Arden, standing up.
The man stood up also, to make his inspection.
“You're both,” he said, after a pause, “much about his height.”
“Is either of us like him?”
“No,” answered Davies, after a pause.
“Did you write these letters?” asked Mr. Longcluse laughing.
“Well, I did, or I didn't, and what's that to you?”
“Something, as you shall know presently.”
“I think you're trying it on. I reckon this is a bit of a plant. I don't care a scratch o' that pencil if it be. I wrote them letters, and I said nothin' but what's true, and I'll go with you now to the station if you like, and tell all I knows.”
The fellow seemed nettled, and laughed viciously a little, and swaggered at the close of his speech. The faintest flush imaginable tinged Longcluse's forehead, as he shot a searching glance at him.