“Mr. MacClaren, he lies.” It was Frazer’s voice. “There is no truth in what he says. The boys are laboring under a delusion. If they’ve been attacked while away on their trip, it was not through any of my conniving. I have nothing whatever to do with Wolf Brennan and Toby McCallum. Those men are not in my employ, as these three young men seem to believe.”
“They have been in your employ, haven’t they?” MacClaren asked drily.
“Indeed, they have not,” protested Frazer.
“If that is true, how do you account for the three entries in your own ledger under the date of March third, seventh and fifteenth? According to your own books, you paid McCallum and Brennan for work done here at the post.”
“Yes, I’ll admit that but—” Frazer paused slightly confused.
“They have been in your employ then?” Mr. MacClaren persisted.
“Little tasks about the post here,” the other retorted. “Does it necessarily follow that they are in my employ regularly?”
“No, it doesn’t. But it does give us a line on the type of men you do employ.”
“You’re prejudiced,” flamed Frazer.
“Not at all. If these boys are wrong, I shall insist that they apologize. But it hasn’t been proved that they are wrong yet. Sandy, go on with your story.”