But Chester was beginning to fear Merriwell, as well as hate him. Why was it Dick always accomplished anything he set about doing?
Dick turned toward the door.
“If you choose to sacrifice yourself for those worthless bits of paper,” he said, “go ahead. I have told you what I shall do, and you know I never fail to keep my word.”
He was going, and Arlington wavered. It was the bitterness of gall to surrender, but he felt that it was better than the disgrace of expulsion.
“Hold on!” he said. “I don’t want the old papers, anyhow! Here!” He took some slips from his pocket. “Here they are. Take them. I meant to give them to Savage.”
Dick stepped back quietly, with no expression of satisfaction or triumph, and took the slips from Chester’s hand. Quietly he ran them over, glancing at each one. Arlington longed intensely to strike him, but experience had taught him that he had better not do so.
“These are right,” nodded Dick, coolly putting the slips into his pocket.
Again he turned and walked toward the door. Just as he put out his hand to open the door, something whizzed past his head. Thud!—it struck the door and stuck there, quivering. It was a knife!
CHAPTER XVIII—BUNOL HOLDS HIS GRIP
Dick turned like a flash. He saw a slender, dark-faced youth, who had stepped from behind the curtains and thrown the knife. He also saw that Chester Arlington had made a spring and clutched the arm of this youth, thus causing the knife to fly a trifle wild.