“Reckon Hugh is right, Mr. Merriwell,” laughed the one who had invited Frank. “You had better keep out of the game.”
Fred Darleton was playing at one of the tables. He regarded Frank with a sneer on his face.
“An innocent stiff,” he commented, in a low tone. “They say he never takes a drink, never swears, never does anything naughty.”
“He’s rather naughty at fencing,” reminded a man jokingly; but Darleton saw nothing to laugh at in the remark.
Morton was heard informing Merry that he must not ask questions about the game while play was in progress, as by so doing he might seem to give away some player’s hand.
“Oh, I can keep still,” assured Frank smilingly. “I’ve seen them play poker before.”
“No one would ever suspect it,” sneered Darleton under his breath.
This fellow was wearing dark-colored glasses, after his usual custom.
Merry found an opportunity to inspect the lights. While they were sufficiently bright for all purposes, they were shaded in such a manner that Darleton’s excuse for wearing smoked glasses seemed a paltry one.
“His real reason is not because the lights hurt his eyes,” decided Frank.