Then he quietly departed, leaving the mysterious message, and Frank stood there studying the oilskin envelope, wondering what it contained. For the time he forgot his surroundings, forgot the friends who were present, forgot the triumphs of the day, and gave himself up to vain speculation.
His father was a most mysterious man, seldom doing anything in a conventional manner. Yet somehow it seemed to Merry that this did not account for the care and expense to which Mr. Merriwell had gone in order to have the message safely delivered into the hands of his son.
Of course Frank had no thought of opening that envelope before the time set—the day after graduation. He wondered if it could be that the envelope contained a check for a large sum of money which he was to use in starting out in a business career. Anyhow, it was certain, Merry thought, that the contents must be valuable.
He was not aware of a pair of greedy eyes fastened upon him. He was not aware of a person who moved cautiously toward him without attracting attention.
Roland Packard was desperate. The message had been delivered, but as yet Merriwell knew nothing of its import. Packard reasoned that this was his last chance to earn that alluring five hundred dollars.
Reaching a favorable position, Roland glanced round toward the door, observing that, for the present, the coast was clear.
Then he turned, and, like a flash, his hand went out, his fingers closing on the envelope, which was snatched from Merriwell’s grasp.
Without a word, without a sound, the desperate student leaped toward the door.
Merry, who had thought himself surrounded by friends, who to the last man were constant and true, had been taken utterly by surprise, but he quickly recovered.
“Stop, Packard!”