They are entitled to as full an explanation as--as I am." "You place me, Melville, in a rather embarrassing position," declared Fogerty.

"This is a queer case--the queerest in all my experience.
Better let me post you in a private interview." Smith trembled a bit, from nervousness; but he persisted in his demand.
"These people are entitled to the truth," said he.

"Tell us frankly all you know about me, and do not mince words--whatever the truth may be." "Oh, it's not so bad," announced the detective, with a shrug; "or at least it wouldn't be in New York, among your old aristocratic haunts.
But here, in a quiet country town, among these generous and simple-hearted folks who have befriended you, the thing is rather difficult to say." "Say it!" commanded Smith.
"I will.

Many New Yorkers remember the firm of Melville & Ford, the cleverest pair of confidence men who ever undertook to fleece the wealthy lambs of the metropolis." "Confidence men!" gasped Smith, in a voice of horror.
"Yes, putting it mildly.

You were both jolly good fellows and made a host of friends.