Tony called back an assent, and I continued in conversation.
“You have quite a bruise on your head, Mr. Elder. Did you get hit with a ball?” asked Slade, examining my forehead.
“No,” I answered; “I was kicked in the head by some one running over me—at least, I think so, though it was late at night, and too dark for me to be sure.”
As we continued to talk about the matter, Slade said in a low tone, looking over my shoulder,
“Somebody is very much interested in you, I think.”
I turned sharply around, to encounter the full, steady stare of a young fellow about my own age, who had been standing about three feet behind me.
He lowered his eyes, and at once passed into the hotel.
I looked after him curiously.
“Who is he?” I asked.
“I don’t know,” responded Slade. “I think he is a Park College fellow; at least, he came into town this morning with quite a crowd of students from the college. He was fairly devouring you with his eyes when I spoke.”