“I’ll try,” said Bar. “I think I’ve seen what some things lead to clearly enough.”
“I should say you had,” was the lawyer’s very emphatic rejoinder.
But, while matters were going ahead so very swimmingly in the great city, there were almost equally busy times in Ogleport.
Val Manning found himself invited, that day, to a private conference with Dr. Dryer. Not for any misdeeds of his own, as he was very carefully assured, but to ascertain what he might know as to the sudden disappearance of his room-mate.
“He did not tell me a word,” said Val, “except that a telegram from his counsel called him back to the city. He could not say when he would return.”
“His counsel? He’s very young to have counsel. Do you mean Judge Danvers?”
“I suppose so,” said Val.
Bar Vernon was growing rapidly to the stature of a very large boy, in the mind of the Academy principal, but he had unwisely, though, perhaps, necessarily, admitted his ruling half to that conference, and Mrs. Dryer broke in with:
“All an excuse, Dr. Dryer. I’m astonished that you allow yourself to be hoodwinked in that way.”
“Dorothy Jane!”