“What message?”
“You know. This is no time for joking, and it is a very poor joke, at best.”
“Joke?” said Oliver wonderingly. “What are you talking about, Merriwell? I know nothing of any joke.”
Frank held him off and looked at him sternly. Merry’s friends were swarming to the head of the stairs.
“Frank’s got him!” they cried.
“Yaw!” shouted Hans Dunnerwurst. “Dot vos der lobsder vot didded id! Holdt him onto, Vrankie!”
“Shut yeour maouth, yeou dinged Dutch chump!” came from Gallup. “Yeou come nigh fixin’ it so he couldn’t git him.”
“Roight ye are, Gallup, me bhoy,” put in Mulloy. “Thot Dutch chaze is foriver in th’ way.”
To the eyes of Merry the look of amazement on Oliver Packard’s face seemed genuine.
“What has happened?” Oliver asked. “I heard the sudden commotion, and then you came leaping down here at me.”