“Why, I didn’t have much,” said Bart, “though I put up a bluff with the sports that I did. I took only twenty dollars, you know, and I left the note telling you I had taken that. I thought that was not too much for my work.”
Frank sat still some seconds, staring at Bart. Then he rose to his feet, and the look on his face caused Hodge to rise to his elbow and cry:
“What is it? What is the matter, Merriwell?”
“Bart,” said Frank, slowly, “every dollar I had in that grip was gone when I looked for it after your departure.”
That brought Hodge out of bed.
“Gone?” he gasped, in horror. “Gone? Why, how could that be?”
“I don’t know.”
“Frank—Frank, you don’t think I took that money? My God! you don’t think I took it? I have fallen pretty low, but you don’t think I would rob you—you who have been the only true friend I had in all the world? Why, Merry, I’d starve—I’d suffer the tortures of hell before I’d do such a thing!”
Frank did not doubt him then; he felt in his heart that Bart spoke the truth. And Merry’s heart leaped with joy and triumph. Hodge was not guilty!
Who was?