The proctor—alive—uninjured—there! The proctor, whom he had believed drowned and at the bottom of the Quinnepiac River! It seemed a miracle.
For a moment it seemed to Frank that it could not be true. How was it possible?
The man seemed to understand Merriwell’s agitation, for he laughed exultantly. That laugh did more than anything else to bring Frank to himself.
“So you are surprised to see me here!” sneered the proctor. “Why are you so surprised? Is there any reason why you did not expect to see me, sir?”
Frank became remarkably cool in a moment. His heart was overflowing with gratitude and thankfulness, but he realized that he was in frightful danger—danger of disgrace and dismissal from college. A short time before he would have thought that nothing to be compared with the just punishment that menaced him, but now the proctor was alive, and it was different.
More than that, there was something in the manner of the man that aroused Merriwell. Frank realized that the proctor was thirsting for revenge, and he was just the sort of man who would not hesitate at anything to obtain it.
Had Digby Rudge met Frank in a different manner, had he not shown his fierce hatred in his words and his voice, Merry might have betrayed himself by an expression of his thankfulness to learn that the man still lived.
In some marvelous manner the man had escaped drowning, and now he would do his best to be revenged upon the lads who had ducked him in the river.
“Good-evening, Mr. Rudge,” came with amazing coolness from Frank’s lips. “You gave me quite a start, for I was not noticing, and you rose up so quickly before me.”
“Oh, was that it?” sneered Rudge.