"You're a hanged two-faced fraud!" he huskily cried. "That's jusht what you are, Ditson! Somebody's been telling things to the sophs. They found out everything. It was you! And you pumped your points out of me when I was full."
"That didn't hurt you," Ditson hastened to declare. "It was entirely to hurt Merriwell, and he is our common enemy."
"Don't care a continental if he is!" cried Walter. "I don't like him, but you have hurt me. Bet anything Merriwell and Old Put thought I had blowed! I didn't have any confidence in Merriwell's methods, but I didn't blow to the sophs! Still I was to blame for lettin' you get me full and pump me. And the fellows think I'm a tattler! Well, I'll be hanged if I don't even up with you by hammering the face off you right now!"
Walter stood up and attempted to grasp Ditson's arm, but he was so full that he made a miscalculation and caught nothing but empty air. Then he struck across the table at Roll.
"Oh, you would hit me, would you!" grated Ditson, who saw that his companion was much the drunker. "You would hammer my face! Well, perhaps I'll do some hammering myself!"
Then he caught up an empty champagne bottle and swung it over his head as if to strike Gordon.
Like a flash Merriwell's hand darted down over the top of the screen and snatched the bottle from Roll's grasp.
A moment later Frank went around the screen and confronted the two lads, still holding the bottle in his hand.
"I saved you from having a cracked head that time, Gordon," he said as he collared Ditson. "And I have found out who the traitor is. I am glad you are not the man. As for this thing"—he gave Ditson a shake that caused the fellow's teeth to click together—"he has shown to-night that he is a most contemptible cur! I hated to think him as dirty as he has shown himself to be."
Frank's face was full of unutterable disgust for Ditson.