"Did this burglar come into the room?"
Dick nodded an assent.
"And he attacked you?"
There came another nod of affirmation.
"And there was a struggle?"
"Yes," Dick said, and now there was resolution in his answer.
"And you shot him?" Demarest asked, smoothly.
"Yes," the young man said again.
"Then," the lawyer countered on the instant, "where did you get
the revolver?"
Dick started to answer without thought:
"Why, I grabbed it----" Then, the significance of this crashed on
his consciousness, and he checked the words trembling on his
lips. His eyes, which had been downcast, lifted and glared on
the questioner. "So," he said with swift hostility in his voice,
"so, you're trying to trap me, too!" He shrugged his shoulders in
a way he had learned abroad. "You! And you talk of friendship.
I want none of such friendship."
Demarest, greatly disconcerted, was skilled, nevertheless, in
dissembling, and he hid his chagrin perfectly. There was only
reproach in his voice as he answered stoutly:
"I am your friend, Dick.
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