He had not listened long when all his suspicions were confirmed. With cunning skill Miles Sharkey was working on Sam Hinkley’s hatred of Ned Nevins to enlist Sam in the plot against the Electric Monarch. But to young Dill’s chagrin, he could not get close enough to hear all their conversation without risking being discovered. He had, therefore, to content himself with fragmentary bits. But such as these were, they were quite sufficient to inform him that Sam Hinkley was ready to turn traitor to his young employers.
“Then you’ll do it?” were the last words the German youth heard Miles address to Sam Hinkley.
“You can depend on me to fix the young sneak,” he heard Sam answer. “But when do I get my money?”
“When we get ours from the party I told you about. Is that satisfactory?” asked Miles, who appeared to act as spokesman.
“That’s all right,” was Sam’s reply, as he strolled away, and the two conspirators exchanged triumphant glances.
“Now dey come py me, I bedt you my life,” muttered the young German to himself as he flopped into a chair and appeared engrossed in a newspaper which happened, by good luck, to be lying there. Sure enough it was not many minutes before he heard a honey voice addressing him.
It was Hank. He expressed great regret for the occurrences of the morning.
“I don’t know what got into me,” he said, “anyhow I apologize very sincerely.”
“Oh, dot’s all righdt,” said young Dill easily, “und at dot I don’d dink dot you hadt very much on me.”
Hank agreed, and then after some more conversation he approached the subject that young Dill knew he had been leading up to all the time.