CHAPTER XXVII. WARNING THE TRAITOR.
Frank felt that it was his duty to warn Arthur Sargent of his danger, for he could not doubt that Havener really meant to shoot the man on sight. The stage manager never blustered or made needless talk about anything. In fact, he was a man of few words. His likes and dislikes were strong and pronounced. He was just the sort of a person to make up his mind to shoot a man and then go straightway and do it.
But what troubled Frank most was Havener's singular actions and his wild words. Never before had the man appeared like that. Frank had seen a light in the stage manager's eyes that appalled him.
"Just the look I saw in the eyes of the maniac who was hunting Darius Conrad down," thought Merriwell.
Was it possible that there was something of insanity in Havener and the occurrences of the night had served to arouse it? Merry remembered the man had said something seemed to snap in his head when he saw Cassie on the floor of the dressing room.
"No telling what freak may seize him. I will find Sargent without delay."
Down in the office of the hotel Cates was writing a letter. Frank went straight up to him.
"Where is Sargent?" he asked.
Cates looked up with a start.
"Eh?" he exclaimed. "Oh, is it you, Mr. Merriwell? Sargent? Now, what do you want of him?"
"I want to see him about an important matter."
Cates grinned.
"I can guess," he said. "What's the use to fight? It won't give you any satisfaction."
"I haven't the least idea in the world of fighting," assured Frank. "But Sargent is in great danger."
"Of what?"
"Losing his life."
"Come off! You don't mean to kill him?"
"No; but somebody else does."
"Oh, what a bluff!"
"It's no bluff."
"Who is this somebody else?"
"I'll tell Sargent that when I find him."
"Well, you're not liable to find him."
"Why not?"
"Because he's left this hotel."
"It's a good thing for him that he has. You won't tell me where he has gone?"
"No."
"Then tell him to get out of Groton without delay, for less than five minutes ago I left a man who had a loaded revolver for him. That is straight goods. I have no love for Sargent, but I don't wish to see him shot, nor do I wish to see the other man arrested for murder. I am giving you straight stuff, as you must see."
Cates began to be impressed.
"All right," he said; "I rather think Sargent will be out of Groton early in the morning. I am writing now for an engagement for both of us. We don't hold any feelings against you, Mr. Merriwell."
"That is more than I can say to you, sir. You broke your promise to me, and——"
"Oh, you'll get used to little things like that by the time you have been in the business a while. Promises don't amount to much, anyway."
"Not with such men as you, that is plain."
"What's the use of holding a grudge, old man?" smiled the comedian, familiarly. "It won't do any good. The company was bound to go up anyhow, and we did no more than anybody else would have done. We simply made a break for our money—and got it."
"At the expense of the others. With that money we could have made the jump to the next town."
"And been stranded there."
"You don't know that."
"It was sure enough. There's no business out here. Crops have failed, and money is wanting. If you ever go out with another company, keep out of this region."
"Thank you for your very kind advice! If I ever go out with another company, I shall take care to have all promises made in writing."
"A very good scheme," grinned Cates, and Frank turned away, feeling his pulses throbbing with anger, and fearing he might have trouble with the insolent fellow if he talked with him longer.
Merry continued his search for Sargent.
"If he thinks of getting away in the morning, it must be that he'll get his trunks out of the theater to-night," thought Frank.
He started for the theater, where he knew Ephraim and Hans were at work packing things.
The stage door was open, and he entered, ascending to the stage.
Hans met him there, and hoarsely whispered:
"Der dressin' rooms vas in him!"
"What's that?" asked Merry, puzzled.
"Der dressin' rooms vas in him," repeated the Dutch lad.
"The dressing room? Do you mean some person is in one of the dressing rooms?"
"Yaw."
"Who?"
"Sargent."
"What?"
"Dot vas right."
"The very man I am looking for? Which room?"
Hans pointed out the room, and Frank walked straight to the door, which he thrust open, entering without hesitation.
Sargent was there, just in the act of starting to drag his trunk toward the door. He stopped and straightened up quickly, showing signs of alarm.
Frank closed the door, placing his back against it, while Sargent showed symptoms of great alarm.
"I have been looking for you," spoke Merriwell.
Sargent fell back a step.
"What—what do you want?" he asked, rather huskily, and it was plain he feared an immediate attack.
"I want to warn you."
"Warn me? About what? What is the matter?"
"Your life is in danger."
"How?"
"You told old Dan where I hid his bottle of whisky."
"Perhaps I did."
"There is no perhaps about it; old Dan says you did. Well, the old man got wretchedly drunk, and he nearly killed Cassie in the next room after the show was over. He knocked her down and kicked her. It was the whisky that made him do it. You gave him the whisky, and so you are responsible for all that happened."
"No such thing! The old fool was drunk anyhow, and what I did made no difference. In fact, he would have been uglier if he hadn't recovered the whisky. Don't try to make out that I am to blame because he beat the girl!"
"Whether you are to blame or not, there is one man who believes you are."
"What man?"
"Ross Havener."
"Him?"
"Yes; and you know the kind of a man Havener is. To-night he loaded a revolver for you, and but for me he would have started on a hunt for you, intending to shoot you on sight. I persuaded him to hold up for a while, but even now he says he will shoot you if he sees you. You must get out of Groton before another morning."
"I don't know."
"I do know! If you stay, you take your life in your hands. Havener believes Cassie is seriously injured, and he is like a crazy man. If Cassie should die before morning, your life would not be worth a pinch of snuff!"
Sargent turned pale.
"Havener's a fool!" he snapped. "I am going anyhow—I shall get away early, but it's not because of Havener. I want you to understand I am not afraid of Roscoe Havener——"
Frank had stepped away from the door! Bang!—it flew open.
Havener stood in the doorway!