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Updated: May 10, 2025
"Densmore, there's something I've been wanting to put up to you." Densmore's heavy brows came to attention. "Fire ahead." "You were ready to beat me up when I came here to ask you certain questions." "I was. Any fellow would be. You would." "Perhaps.
The private school I attended in the company of other boys with whom I was brought up was called Densmore Academy, a large, square building of a then hideous modernity, built of smooth, orange-red bricks with threads of black mortar between them.
Greenough's pale fringe of hair, when, as Banneker entered the office at noon, he called the reporter to him. Banneker's face, on the contrary, displayed a quite different impression; that of amiability. "Nothing in the Eyre story, Mr. Banneker!" "Not a thing." "You saw Mr. Densmore?" "Yes, sir." "Would he talk?" "Yes; he made a statement." "It didn't appear in the paper."
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