Billings looked up in a stupid manner.
“G’way!” he gurgled. “’S Merriwell’s watch. Got ’tout of his pocket.”
“It’s my watch!” cried Gooch, clearly. “See, fellows, there is my monogram on the inside of the front case! That is the watch that was stolen from me.”
Gooch snatched it from Billings’ hand.
Frank Merriwell arose to his feet. He was aware that every eye in the room was on his.
“Gentlemen,” he said, his voice calm and steady, “this looks to me like an attempt to get square with me for the little joke of a short time ago. If so, it strikes me as decidedly a mean way of getting back at me.”
CHAPTER XXIX.
THE SPYING PROCTOR.
Although he had not lifted his voice the least, there was indignation in Merry’s manner, and his eyes were flashing. He looked from one to another of the lads before him, as if seeking to discover the guilty one or ones.
There was a brief silence, and then Bruce Browning hastened to say: