Victor poured forth the story of his woes with a volubility that showed a strong grip on the English language, and, as he proceeded, the faces of the three completely changed expression. Bob and Charlie fairly roared with mirth, while Tom, backing up against the motor car, seemed almost too astonished to speak.
“We had our trip on the yacht,” cried Blake, between his peals of laughter.
“And Tom did motor it to Milwaukee,” supplemented Bob. “But ‘things are not always what they seem.’”
Briefly he explained the situation. His manner and tones were so convincing as to completely silence Victor Collins’ suspicions. The angry look slowly faded from his eyes. He stuck his hands into his overcoat pocket and whistled shrilly.
For once in his life Victor had learned a lesson.
The story of Tom’s brilliant deductions was, of course, too good to keep, so the “grind,” in spite of the tall boy’s frantic winks, gave all the details with a charming disregard for his feelings.
The sheepish expression which had rested on Victor’s face gave place to an enormous grin. He laughed quite as loudly as Bob and Charlie had done a few moments before.
“Well,” growled Tom, “can you blame me? Weren’t you all twisted up yourself? I went down to the wharf and saw——”
“So did Brandon and I; and all we saw was a mean-looking little fat man. He had the nerve to come up and begin talking. ‘No; not even the glitter of a cent,’ I told the beggar. Whew, wasn’t he hopping mad, though! You ought to have seen how he beat it.”
“A little fat man!” cried Tom, opening his eyes. “Why—why, he must have been the very one that told me about the boys going off on the yacht.”