“Never mind how I found out,” Dick flashed back. “Jack, he’s a crooked scoundrel! He’s been egging you on to buck against Tempest for the sole purpose of ruining the team and giving the game to Harvard.”
The flush died out of Kenny’s face, leaving it pale and set. His eyes flashed indignantly.
“How dare you say that, Merriwell?” he exclaimed angrily. “He couldn’t do such a thing. Why, his own brother went to Yale and played on the varsity!”
“I know all that, but it’s true just the same,” Dick flung back. “Would you believe it if you knew he and a pal of his had put up over two thousand dollars on Harvard?”
“But how could he?” expostulated the quarter back. “He’s crazy for us to win. He’s even——”
“I know all that,” Merriwell returned swiftly; “but this very night—not ten minutes ago—I heard the truth from his very lips. He was talking over it with his pal in the bar of the New Haven House. I was there, made up this way. I had suspected him before. They didn’t know me, of course. The bets were all placed in New York. They’re no better than a couple of crooks. Listen!”
Swiftly, a little brokenly, but quite clearly, he poured into Kenny’s ears the story of what he had discovered. The quarter back’s face was pale and his eyes horror-stricken when the brief recital was finished. For an instant he could not speak.
“His very words,” repeated Dick. “I’ve worked Kenny every minute I could be with him, and kept that grouch of his nursed as if it was a precious hothouse flower. The poor fool never suspected me for an instant. Thinks I have a sweetly sympathetic nature.”
Suddenly the slim fellow’s face grew purple.
“Blazes!” he almost shouted. “The thundering, double-faced liar! I’ll smash up that face of his so his own brother won’t know him! I’m going down there this minute. I don’t care where he is.”