At exactly that moment Frank looked along the walk to the street at the echo of a cherry whistle. It was instantly checked. Markham, tripping towards the office, halted with a shock. Like a flash he turned at a sight of Wacker. He disappeared so quickly that Frank wondered if Wacker got a clear look at him.
The latter, with a malignant growl at Frank, went away without another word. In some perplexity Frank sat down at his desk, thinking hard and fast.
"I just couldn't truckle with that fellow," he said. "Dick Welmore, eh? Can that be Markham's real name? Evidently, though, this Wacker doesn't know Markham is here. He thinks he is somewhere else, 'snug and tight.' Oh, bother! there's only one right course to take in such a case, and I'll follow it."
Frank decided that at quitting time he would lock himself and Markham into the office, and ask for an explanation of his fear and dread of meeting Dale Wacker.
"It won't be to Markham's discredit, I'll guarantee," reflected Frank. "He's square, if there ever was a square boy. Here he is now."
Markham appeared, breathing hard and looking excited. He tried, however, to appear calm. His
