“I believe Curtis Waring is at the bottom of this,” he said.
“My cousin!” exclaimed Florence, in astonishment.
“Yes, your cousin, Miss Linden.”
“But what can he have against poor Dodger! Is it because the boy has taken my part and is a friend to me?”
“He wouldn’t like him any better on account of that; but he has another and a more powerful reason.”
“Would you mind telling me what it is? I cannot conceive what it can be.”
“At present,” answered Bolton, cautiously, “I prefer to say nothing on the subject. I will only say the boy’s disappearance interferes with my plans, and I will see if I can’t find out what has become of him.”
“If you only will, Mr. Bolton, I shall be so grateful. I am afraid I have misjudged you. I thought you were an enemy of Dodger’s.”
“Then you were mistaken. I have had the boy with me since he was a kid, and though I’ve been rough with him at times, maybe, I like him, and I may some time have a chance to show him that old Tim Bolton is one of his best friends.”
“I will believe it now, Mr. Bolton,” said Florence, impulsively, holding out her hand to the burly saloon-keeper.