They escaped in company. Dismal Jones alone was left. Frank Merriwell’s face had hardened, but now he said:
“Mr. Jones, this is my friend Mr. Hooker.”
Jones got up, but did not hold out his hand.
“How do you do, Mr. Hooker?” he said freezingly. “I must be going. Excuse me, gentlemen.”
And even he departed.
As the door closed behind Jones, Frank turned slowly and sorrowfully to Hooker. The outcast realized the full extent of the slight put upon him, and he was pale as chalk. Frank held out his hand.
“My dear fellow!” he said sympathetically.
“I told you how it would be!” cried Hooker hoarsely. “I did not wish to come here!”
“I beg a thousand pardons for bringing you! I did not dream for a moment that such a thing would happen.”
“I knew! I knew! Nobody here will have anything to do with me!”