Much more
likely to be Nigel Merriton, for that matter. Then there's the question
of this I.O.U. that I found on the body. Signed 'Lester Stark', and the
doctor--Gad! what a loyal friend to have!--told me that Lester Stark,
Merriton, and a little man called West were bosom friends and
club-mates."
"Then perhaps the man Stark killed him, after all?" threw in Mr. Narkom
at this juncture, and there was a tinge of eagerness in his excited
tones, which made Cleek whirl round upon him and say, accusingly, "Old
friend, Merriton has won your heart as he has won others'. You're dead
nuts on the youngster, and I must say he does seem such a clean, honest,
upstanding young fellow. But you're ready to convict any one of the
murder of Dacre Wynne but Merriton himself. Own up now; you've a sneaking
regard for the fellow!"
Mr. Narkom reddened.
"Well, if you want the truth of it--I have!" he said, finally, in an
"I-don't-care-what-the-devil-you-think" sort of voice. "He's exactly the
kind of chap I'd like for a son of my own, and--and--dash it! I don't
like seeing him in the lock-up; and that's the long and short of it!"
"So long as it's only the long and short, and not the end of it, it
doesn't greatly matter," returned Cleek.
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