Then he stopped, turned away, turned back, faltered, held out his hand.
“Will you take it, Merriwell?” he asked, flushing painfully.
Frank grasped it instantly.
“I’m willing to let the past die with Santenel,” he earnestly declared.
“So am I!” said Dade sincerely. “I shall never try to resurrect it, you may be sure. Good night, Mr. Merriwell.”
“Good night, Morgan.”
Frank opened the door, and Morgan passed out. He came near running into Hodge, who was coming in. Bart stood still and looked at Dade, who stepped aside and passed on, without a word.
There was a strange look on the face of Bart Hodge when he entered Merriwell’s room.
Frank closed the door, and Bart walked over and stood with his back to the open fireplace.
Merry had one of the handsomest rooms in Vanderbilt, but the beauty of the place was nothing to Bart then. He stood with his hands thrust deep into his pockets, a scowl on his dark face, staring down at the Persian rug beneath his feet.