“Why in the world do you——?” he began, impatiently.
Mary stamped her foot angrily in protest against the delay.
“Tell me—quick!” she commanded. The authority in her voice and manner was not to be gainsaid.
Dick yielded sullenly.
“Oh, two or three hundred dollars, I suppose,” he answered. “Why?”
“Never mind that!” Mary exclaimed, violently. And now the girl's voice came stinging like a whiplash. In Garson's face, too, was growing fury, for in an instant of illumination he guessed something of the truth. Mary's next question confirmed his raging suspicion.
“How long have you had them, Dick?”
By now, the young man himself sensed the fact that something mysteriously baneful lay behind the frantic questioning on this seemingly trivial theme.
“Ever since I can remember,” he replied, promptly.
Mary's voice came then with an intonation that brought enlightenment not only to Garson's shrewd perceptions, but also to the heavier intelligences of Dacey and of Chicago Red.