“This is not lead,” he announced. “It’s too hard and too bright. If it were lead, it would have flattened out. By Jove, Kid, this looks like silver to me!”
“Here’s the other one!” cried Lee. “They’re mates, Dick. Say, if you’d ever got those through your head, it would have been your everlasting finish.”
Dick took the second bullet, inspected it, compared it with the first, and dropped them both into his pocket.
“Bertie,” he said, “I want you to keep a close mouth about this business. Don’t mention it to any one—at least, don’t mention it until I give you permission.”
“I’m not liable to mention it,” said Bertie quickly. “I don’t want Mike Lynch on my neck. I don’t know what you think about it, Dick, but it seems to me that Lynch had something mighty nasty in his mind when he was sneaking up behind you. If he’s daffy, he should be placed in confinement where he’ll do no injury to any one. It isn’t right to let a crazy fellow run loose. I’m afraid of him. If they don’t take care of Lynch, I’m liable to get out of New Haven myself, I tell you that.”
“Don’t hurry, Kid. If Mike Lynch is crazy enough to attempt murder, I’m going to see that he is taken care of. But first I think I shall talk with Lynch myself.”
Having arrived at such a decision, Dick wasted little time. He proceeded straight to the room occupied by Lynch and unhesitatingly knocked for admission.
A voice called, “Come in!”
Lynch was sitting in a morris chair with a bandage around his head. He was wearing a dressing gown and looked pale and listless.
“Hello, Merriwell!” he said, with an intonation of surprise as Dick appeared. “I didn’t suppose it was you. Thought it might be some of my friends, but they don’t seem to be in any hurry about calling to find out whether I’m seriously injured or not. Won’t you sit down?”