“You’re a dandy fencer, old man,” he laughed; “but you mustn’t get a fancy that you’re just as clever at everything. Still, as long as you are so insistent, I’ll give you a trial. Meet me in the billiard room at eight o’clock this evening. Play seldom begins here before eight-thirty or nine.”
“I’ll be there,” promised Frank, satisfied.
CHAPTER VIII
AROUSED BY A MYSTERY.
It was nine o’clock that evening when Morton and Merriwell strolled into the card room. They seemed to be wandering around in search of some amusement to pass away the time.
“Come on here, Morton,” called a player. “Bring your friend into this game. It will make just enough.”
Hugh shook his head.
“No cards for me to-night,” he said. “My luck is too poor. Dropped more than enough to satisfy me last week.”
“The place to find your money is where you lost it,” said another player.
“I’m willing to let it rest where it is a while. I have a severe touch of cold feet.”