CHAPTER VII
THE HERO EXPLAINS
For half a minute after his titled friend had bowed himself out, Blake stood glowering at the door. The sharp crackle of a blueprint under the thrumming fingers of Griffith caused him to start from his abstraction and cross to the desk, where he dropped heavily into his former seat.
"Well?" demanded Griffith. "Out with it."
"With what?"
"You called him your friend. He's a likely-looking youngster, even if he is the son of a duke. Same time, there's something in the wind. Cough it up. Haven't happened to smash any heads or windows, have you, while you were—"
"No!" broke in Blake harshly. "It's worse than that, ten times worse!
It's—it's Jenny—Miss Leslie!"
Griffith's thin lips puckered in a soundless whistle. "Well, I'll be—!
Don't tell me you've gone and—Why, you never cared a rap for girls."
"No, but this time, Grif—It began when I showed her through that Rand mine. Jimmy has told you what followed."
Griffith blinked, and discreetly said nothing as to what lie had heard from Miss Leslie's father. "H'm. I'd like to hear it all, straight from you."