“I suppose it’s something about that polo-game. I’m free to admit that I wanted the other fellows to beat, Merriwell, chiefly because I don’t like certain members of your team. I hope the fact that I bet on the other team doesn’t stick in your crop?”
“No; I didn’t intend to talk of the polo-game. As for that rascally goal-tend who struck Dick Starbright on the head and laid him out, the law will take care of him. Of course, you had nothing to do with that?”
Dade flushed.
“It’s an insult to insinuate such a thing, Merriwell!”
“I beg your pardon, then, if I am wrong. I have no means of knowing; but I’m fully aware of the fact that you don’t like Starbright—and you would do such a thing!”
Dade lowered his eyelids and turned over a pair of golf-stockings which lay on the trunk-lid beside him. He feared what was coming and shrank from it.
“I didn’t come up here for polite talk, Morgan,” Frank went remorselessly on. “We’re alone here?”
“Quite alone.”
He had thrown down the stockings and now turned squarely toward Frank.
“You know that Hector King is in prison!”