Thornton, thoughtfully. "As far as the incident
of the scarf-pin goes I am willing to admit that your explanation
is just as likely to be good as is any other."
"Prescott, what did you do with the other pin and the watch?"
shot in Policeman Hemingway, suddenly and compellingly.
It was well done. Had Dick been actually guilty, he might either
have betrayed himself, or gone to stammering. But, as it was,
he smiled, wanly, as he replied:
"I didn't do anything with them, Mr. Hemingway. I have just been
explaining that."
"How much money have you about you at this moment?" demanded Hemingway.
"Two cents, I believe," laughed Dick, beginning to turn out his
pockets. He produced the two copper coins, and held them out
to the special officer.
"You may have more about you, then, somewhere," hinted the officer.
"Find it, then," begged Dick, frankly, as he stepped forward.
"Search me. I'll allow it, and shall be glad to have you do it."
So Policeman Hemingway made the search, with the speed and skill
of an expert.
"No; you've no more money about you," admitted the policeman.
"You may have some put away, though."
"Where would it be likely to be?" Dick inquired.
"In your room, perhaps; in your baggage, or hidden behind books;
oh, there's a lot of places where a boy can hide money in his
own room."
"Come along and show me a few of them, then, won't you please?"
challenged the young freshman.
Mrs. Prescott, who had been hovering near the doorway, gave a
gasp of dismay.
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