“I could not study to-day, after what has happened,” muttered Merry. “I should be thinking all the time of the Black Brothers, the blood-red star, and the dead Duke of Benoit du Sault.”
There was a shout of laughter in an adjoining room, and Rattleton came bounding into the room, lazily pursued by Browning, who was growling about some sell he had “bought.”
“Oh, you’re a mark!” chuckled Harry. “Everybody catches you. You’re a sucker.”
“Speaking of suckers,” said Diamond, following them in, “do you remember the time Browning went fishing in a fresh-water pond, and brought back a fine string of mackerel.”
“Oh, that was a lie!” grunted the big fellow, flinging himself down on an easy chair, and getting out his pipe. “You fellows used to think that yarn funny. It’s stale now.”
Rattleton continued to chaff the big Yale man, but Merry took no part in this, which the others noticed after awhile.
“What’s the matter, Frank?” asked Diamond. “You look all fussed up. Anything gone wrong?”
Frank felt like telling them all about it, but he remembered his promise to Edmond Laforce, and refrained.
“Don’t mind me,” he said. “I am not feeling in the best of spirits this morning.”
Now, it was such a remarkable thing for him to feel other than in high spirits that they all stared at him blankly.