“Arlington was right!” he muttered. “I did try to do it! Merriwell refuses to believe it of me. I ought to be kicked! No matter what he has said about me, I had no right to seek revenge in such a manner. I was an idiot! No matter what he has said—how do I know he ever said it? I can’t prove it. I can’t go to him and ask him. I’d like to get away from every one! I am ashamed to look any of the fellows in the face!”
He had changed his clothes, and at the first opportunity he sought to slip out of the hotel, thinking that he would wander off and stay by himself until the time came to take the train. At the outer door he suddenly paused, for on the steps was Chester Arlington, talking to Doris, Zona, and Bessie.
“There wasn’t any luck about it,” laughed Chet. “With proper support Merriwell would have won the game hands down.”
“With proper support!” cried Bessie Dale. “Didn’t he get proper support?”
“Not by a good deal!” retorted Arlington. “One fellow on our team tried to give the game away, and he succeeded pretty well, too. You know him. Miss Templeton—you know him very well. I don’t have to call any names.”
“I don’t want you to call any names!” flashed Doris. “I don’t want to listen to any of your insinuations, sir!”
“Oh, that’s all right,” chuckled Chet. “But I fancy you know enough about baseball so you can see through it, when you think it over. Just take my advice and think it over. Whose bad playing gave Fairport several runs? Who might have won that game with a hit, and didn’t try to hit the ball?”
Instantly Darrell stepped out, his face livid with rage.
“I presume you mean me, Arlington?” he grated. “Why don’t you make your talk to me? Come out here where we are alone and repeat it!”
Instantly Doris seized his arm.