“Yes, such a thing happened. You seemed terribly excited at sight of me. You were brought back to town and placed under the care of a doctor. To all outward appearances, you recovered in a very short time; but ever since then up to the present day you have maintained that I was dead, and whenever you met me you have refused to look at me.”
Gripping the edge of the table, Lynch slowly rose to his feet.
“Perhaps you’ll not believe it, Merriwell,” he said, “but I think I’ve been slightly deranged. Getting hit by that baseball seems to have straightened out my mind and brought me round.”
Merriwell pointed sternly at the pistol.
“What were you doing with that weapon?” he demanded.
Lynch shook his head.
“I can’t tell you,” he answered hoarsely.
“Was the pistol loaded?”
“It’s not loaded now, is it?”
“Was it loaded when you started to creep up behind me with it in your hand?”