“Wha—what does this mean?” faltered Mrs. Larkspur.
“It means that this man is a swindler, madam,” answered Frank.
“A swindler!”
“It is false!” cried Gabe Flecker. “I am an honest man, and my name is Ralph Gibson. This fellow, whoever he may be, is entirely mistaken.”
“Where did you come from?” asked Mrs. Larkspur of Frank.
“I came here to try to sell some books, and the girl told me to wait in the reception room. While waiting, I heard what passed between you and this rascal. I’ve met this man before, and I know all about him. He is a swindler and I can prove it.”
“Then you—you don’t think he lost that money he mentioned?”
“Not a dollar of it.”
“It is true,” howled Gabe Flecker, but at the same time he looked for some means of escaping from the room.
“The first time I met him, he swindled a lady named Mrs. Farley out of a night’s lodging. He told her he had lost ten dollars which he had placed on the mantelpiece.”