How had Frank known she was there in New Haven? Bart told himself that Merry must have known it, else why had he left the campus to meet her? It did not occur to Hodge that the meeting had been by accident. He knew nothing of the runaway. He believed Elsie had sent Merriwell word that she was coming to New Haven, and he had met her by appointment.
A terrible feeling of jealous rage took possession of him as he hurried away. That feeling, which was like a terrible, crushing pain in his bosom, drove reason and sober thought from him. For the time he was a furious fool in the grasp of the fiercest passion that can sway a human being—a passion that has overthrown empires. Oh, the terrible things he told himself! He strode on and on, his face black as midnight, his heart in a wild tumult.
How he hated Merriwell now! At last he felt that he knew Frank Merriwell’s one weak point. Merriwell was deceiving both Elsie and Inza! Even now that he had proposed to Inza and been accepted, he was not satisfied to give Elsie up.
But Merry had deceived him; Bart told himself that over and over. He had slipped away from the rollicking seniors that he might keep the appointment with Elsie unknown to Hodge. Was not that a wretched trick?
All the old hatred he had once entertained for Frank, renewed and redoubled by his jealousy, swayed him now. He felt that he could kill Merriwell without a feeling of remorse. Why not? Was not Frank deceiving Elsie? And a wretch who would deceive her deserved death!
Bart knew that Elsie trusted Frank implicitly. She believed him the soul of honor, and the thought that he could deceive her in any way had never for a moment entered her mind. But he was deceiving her! Why was he doing it? Was it possible that he had grown sorry because of his proposal to Inza? Was it possible that he thought of giving Inza up and turning to Elsie?
Hodge asked himself these questions as he swung along, coming into Whitney Avenue. Away he went to the north, covering the ground with great speed, seeking to walk off the terrible feeling that possessed him.
At last he came to the outskirts of the city. To the right lay East Rock Park; ahead was Lake Whitney. Bart felt like losing himself somewhere in the country and not returning to college. He did not wish to look on Merriwell’s face again. Always he had seen honesty and frankness there; but now he felt that he would be able to detect deceit and treachery lurking somewhere about it.
Deceit and treachery in Frank Merriwell! That meant that the Merriwell he had known in the past was dead!
Bart tired of the highway. He longed to plunge into the woods, and he struck across some fields toward a distant grove, into which he made his way. There he felt that he would be quite alone, but he was mistaken. In the midst of the grove he found a lodgelike house, the doors of which were standing open. Near this house, in the grove, a large, broad-shouldered, muscular-looking man stood contemplating a large stone on the ground at his feet. His hat, coat, and vest were off, and his sleeves were thrust back, showing a massive forearm.