Mark stared at the stranger in amazement.
"No, sir," he said. "I never saw him before, to my knowledge."
"Are you sure?"
"Perfectly."
There was a moment's pause after that, and then the superintendent tapped a bell upon his desk. It was answered at once. The same door opened again, and two persons entered suddenly. Mark knew them, and he knew them well. He stared at them incredulously, gasping; and he sprang back in amazement.
"Benny Bartlett!" he cried. "You here! And the squire!"
It was Benny Bartlett sure enough; Mark knew his sallow deceptive look too well to be mistaken. And the squire was the same stout and blustering, self-assertive old man. He banged his cane on the floor as he heard Mark's exclamation and saw his look of surprise.
"Yes, sir," he cried. "It is the squire. And I observe you start with guilt when you see him, too."
Mark stared at the two all the harder then. And there was a brief silence during which every one stared at every one else. Mark thought he saw the stranger twist his cap yet more nervously.
"Mr. Mallory," began the superintendent at last. "Mr. Mallory, do you know why these three are here?"