“How did you know about my brother Stuart, Blash?” he demanded.
“Eh? What’s that?” Blash looked across startledly, striving to accommodate his mind to the sudden change of subject.
“And where we lived?” pursued Dick.
“Oh! Well, what was it you asked?” Blash floundered badly, his gaze falling on the paper under Dick’s hand and a slow grin curving the corners of his mouth.
“I asked how you knew my brother’s name and where he lived,” explained Dick calmly; “and where we lived.”
Blash looked at Dick for an instant and then shrugged. “I didn’t, Dick,” he answered. “That part was supplied by the editor man, I suppose. All I did was to write a nice little press notice and mail it to the paper. I didn’t know whether they’d use it, but they did, and they sent me a copy of it. Honest, now, don’t you think journalism is my line? Dana or Bennett or any of those top-notchers got anything on me, Dick?”
Stanley was staring wide-eyed. “D-do you mean that you wrote that thing about Dick in the Leonardville paper?” he gasped.
“Most of it,” replied Blash modestly. “Of course, as I’m telling you, I couldn’t supply the—the intimate details.”
“Well, I’ll be jiggered!”
“Same here,” laughed Sid. “Blash, you’re as crazy a loon as they make!”