“Methinks that, along with several of me noble colleagues, I have made a big mistake in making offensive remarks to you, most noble high muck-a-muck. Wouldst do me a favor? Then apply the toe of thy boot to the seat of me lower garments with great vigor.”
Frank laughed.
“The same old Dunton!” he said. “Forget it, old man. It’s all right. There’s no harm done.”
While the members of the company were crowding around Merriwell, Fowler and Harper slipped out of the room and descended the stairs.
Straight to the bar of the hotel they made their way. Leaning against the bar, they took their drinks, and discussed Frank’s fortune.
Another man was drinking near them. He pricked up his ears and listened when he heard Merriwell’s name, and he grew excited as he began to understand what had happened.
“Excuse me, gentlemen,” he said, after a time. “I do not wish to intrude, but I happen to know Mr. Merriwell. Will you have a drink with me?”
They accepted. They were just the sort of chaps who drink with anybody who would “set ’em up.”
“Do you mind telling me just what has happened to Mr. Merriwell?” asked the stranger, who wore a full beard, which seemed to hide many of the features of his face. “Has he fallen heir to a fortune?”
“Rather,” answered Harper, dryly. “More than forty-three thousand dollars has dropped into his hands this morning.”