He seemed ready to burst into tears, and yet he was quivering with rage.
“Dunton,” said Sargent, grimly, “you’re not in your right mind. You have become insane through your hatred for Frank Merriwell, and your insanity nearly led you to commit a terrible crime. It was not your fault that you did not succeed. If Merriwell had not been your superior with a sword, you would have accomplished the deed.”
Dunton sat down on the box again, and dropped his face on his hands.
“It’s no use!” he muttered, thickly. “Everything has gone against me! I am finished!”
“You have no one but yourself to blame,” said Sargent, rather stiffly. “I warned you to let the fellow alone. But how is he going to prove that you really tried to run him through?”
“By you.”
“He can’t.”
“Why not?”
“He doesn’t know I think so.”
“You’ll tell.”