“Had to drive anybody away from the building?”
“Not a soul.”
“That settles it!” growled Bingham. “Now we know who did the trick! Ready, Merriwell is more than even with you!”
“Don’t say a word!” muttered Jack. “I believe I shall have to slam Boltwood round a little, just to ease the strain on my nervous system.”
They entered the old building and descended into the basement. It was dark down there, but they found a candle and lighted it. Then they proceeded to a heavy door, on which there was a padlock, and against which was a heavy bar.
Jack took out a key and unlocked the padlock, while Bingham removed the bar, Carker holding the candle.
Then the door was yanked open, and the light of the candle shone into the room beyond. It showed them, sitting on a box and calmly waiting, the well-known figure of the long-haired freshman poet!
“Yah!” snarled Jack Ready, jumping in and pouncing on Boltwood. “So you are here, are you?”
“Well, where in thunder did you think I’d be?” growled the freshman sulkily. “I hope you are satisfied with your scurvy trick!”