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.

To her tortured soul this police investigation seemed to be the acme of disgrace.