“To destroy a ghost.”
“To what?” cried Dick.
“It sounds foolish, doesn’t it?” muttered Lynch. “It’s an old superstition. I heard my grandmother tell of it when I was a mere child. My grandmother came from Ireland. She said the only way to lay a spook was to shoot it with a silver bullet.”
“And you—you believed such a ridiculous thing, Lynch? That’s too much!”
“I don’t know whether I believed it or not,” muttered Mike. “You understand that I was somewhat daffy. Whenever I saw you I fancied I beheld a ghost. I thought myself haunted. In this state of mind I remembered the words of my grandmother and resolved to exorcise you with the aid of silver bullets. I seemed to remember some crazy conviction that you would vanish instantly if shot with a silver bullet.”
In spite of himself, Dick smiled. It seemed unspeakably preposterous, and yet had not this fellow crept upon him with a pistol containing such bullets?
“I bought that old pistol,” Lynch went on. “You see an ordinary pistol wouldn’t do. I had to get one that used powder and ball. I bought a bullet mold and had a number of silver bullets made. At first I thought I would creep up behind you some time when no one else was near, but after a while I decided that, as long as you were a ghost, it made no difference when I put an end to you. Certainly it could not be a crime to destroy a ghost. I went to the game to-day little thinking that I would find you there. When I discovered you I couldn’t keep my eyes off you. I don’t remember anything at all about the game. At last I became so worked up that I resolved to do the thing without loss of time. You know what followed. This is the whole story, Merriwell. I don’t ask you to believe a word of it. I don’t expect you to believe it. I don’t think I would believe it if I were in your place. I’ve made a confession. I acknowledge I tried to shoot you. Under any circumstances I shall not deny it. You have all the evidence you need against me. I’ll wait here for the officers.”
It must be confessed that Merriwell was puzzled and felt himself in a peculiar position. If Lynch spoke the truth, Dick had no desire to punish him, as he now seemed genuinely penitent. Furthermore, his actions had been those of a deranged man.
“Hadn’t you better take a vacation, Lynch?” suggested Merriwell. “Don’t you think you need it?”
“I suppose you mean that I must leave college for good? You are going to force me out?”