“Because I know what you tried to do. I know how you happened to challenge Frank.”
“I challenged ’im because ’e ’adn’t shown his certificate.”
“And because you believed you had ruined that certificate.”
Now Hollingsworth had been wondering greatly over Merriwell’s ability to produce the certificate, for he was absolutely certain he had obliterated from the document every trace of writing. The restoration of the paper to its former condition—for Hollingsworth fancied it had been somehow restored—was something in the order of magic and the doings of the black art.
“’Ow could I ruin it?” muttered he huskily.
“You sneaked into his room when he was away and obliterated the writing upon it.”
Hollingsworth started. Then the writing had been obliterated, for Hodge said so.
“It’s a forgery!” cried the trainer, of a sudden. “Merriwell retraced the writing! ’E forged it! Proof of that will keep ’im from getting the trophy, heven if ’e wins!”
“Which language from you is the same as a confession that you did sneak into Frank’s room and tamper with the document.”
“Prove it! I deny it! But it’s forged! ’E’ll ’ave no right to the trophy if he wins!”