“The same,” answered the man. “And now——”
“Wait,” suggested Frank, holding up his hand. “As for us, we’re Randall College students, as you can easily verify. We’ll give you our names—fellows, cards,” and Frank handed over one of his own, the others doing the same.
“That’s all right,” spoke the man, in half-sullen tones; “but that isn’t going to bring back my stuff.”
“Do you think we took it?” snapped Frank, and there was a warning glint in his eyes.
“No—not exactly—but you lads were at my boat, you say, and this is the first time I’ve seen it since I left it with those cups and other valuables in.”
“Well, that’s a long way from proving that we took anything,” went on Frank. “It’s laughable, or, it would be if it wasn’t so serious.”
“Who are you, anyhow?” burst out Tom Parsons, unable to restrain his curiosity longer. “This thing is getting too deep for me. How did you come to have the Boxer Hall trophy cups?”
“Perhaps I had better explain,” went on the man. “I am Edward Farson, and I’m in the jewelry business in Haddonfield. I’ve only recently started up, and I’m working a new line of trade. I am an expert repairer and mender of old jewelry, and I find that many residents along the river here, as well as out in the country, have old jewelry they want made into modern forms.
“As I happened to own a motor-boat I decided to use that in making calls along the river, and I have been quite successful. Then learning that the colleges hereabouts had many cups and trophies that grew tarnished, or were broken, I solicited orders in that line. I also do engraving, putting the names of the winners and all that on the cups.