CHAPTER VIII.
THE MESSAGE STOLEN AGAIN.
“The time has come!”
The words came from the lips of Frank Merriwell, who was standing beside a small table in a room of one of New York’s big hotels. In his hand he held the two oilskin envelopes. Across each envelope had been written:
“To Frank Merriwell; to be opened the day after he graduates from Yale.”
Frank had studied the writing on those envelopes, and he was convinced that the words on one had been imitated and copied from the other.
Bart Hodge was Merry’s companion, sitting near and showing no small amount of interest in the singular envelopes.
“Which contains the message?” was the question that came from Bart’s lips.
“That is a conundrum,” admitted Frank, as he gazed from one to the other.
“This is the one Oliver Packard returned that night the old grads were celebrating on Osborne corner.”
“Which one is that, the original or the fake?”