Читать книгу A West Point Treasure; Or, Mark Mallory's Strange Find онлайн

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“Wow!” echoed Texas, springing up in surprise. “What does he know ’bout it?”

“Wait,” laughed Mark, by way of answer. “Wait, and you’ll see. Wicks is quite a detective.

“As you’ll notice by the postmark of this letter, I am in Washington, D. C., at present. And what do you think? I have met Benny Bartlett here!

“I can hear you gasp when you read that. I knew him, but he didn’t know me, so I made up my mind to have some fun with him. I picked up an acquaintance with him, and told him I was from West Point. Then he got intimate and confidential, said he knew a confounded fresh plebe up there—Mallory, they called him. Well, I said I’d heard of Mallory. And, Mark, I nearly had him wild.

“In the first place, you know, he hates you like poison. I can’t tell you how much. This paper wouldn’t hold all the names he called you. And, oh, what lies he did tell about you! So I thought to tease him I’d take the other tack. I told him of all your heroism, how you’d saved the life of the daughter of a rich old judge up there, and were engaged to marry her some day. I threw that in for good measure, though they say it is a desperate case between you and her—upon which I congratulate you, for she’s a treasure.”