“What’s the good of waiting?” he muttered at length. “He may not come in for an hour or two. His hash is as good as settled, anyhow. After the exhibition he made of himself to-day, the dean can’t help doing something. Maybe little Jarvie will play in the Harvard game after all.”
He laughed softly; there was a click and the room was shrouded in darkness; the door closed and silence fell.
CHAPTER VI
THE CRASH.
In the bedroom Bob Hollister stood silent, a rush of bitter anger and regret overwhelming him. Merriwell and Hildebrand and old Jim had all been right. What a blind fool he had been not to have seen through Blake before! What a perfect idiot they must think him!
Presently he came back into the sitting room, and, turning on the light, stood hesitating in the middle of the room. It was up to him to get busy and do something pretty quick. He must not let Blake triumph.
The sudden shock had made him realize his precarious position more clearly than a dozen arguments would have done, and there was now an added incentive to work. He was determined that Blake should not accomplish the purpose for which he had schemed. His blood was aroused to a boiling point. He would not be dropped!
But, first of all, he must see Blair. He had behaved shamefully that afternoon to the fellow who had done a distasteful thing purely for his own good, and Bob felt that he could not rest until he had apologized.
Slipping into his coat, he hurried out of Vanderbilt and made his way swiftly across to Lawrence. It must be confessed that his heart rather failed him as he mounted the stairs and stood before Hildebrand’s door, but without hesitation he raised his hand and knocked.
“Come in,” called a voice.