Dick Starbright drew a deep breath, and then stepped back and dropped heavily on a chair.
“You—you’re sure you are not saying this just to—to make me feel less like a—like a miserable scoundrel?” he begged huskily.
“Surely not. Frank Merriwell is not in the habit of lying outright, even for the sake of his friends. So you see your supposed treachery toward me was nothing of the sort. More than that, you see Inza had a right to prefer you, and it was none of my business.”
“I—I wondered that you did not feel like shooting me,” said Dick, trying to force a smile, but making a sorry failure of it. “Now I understand.”
“Is it thoughts like these that have made you reckless and driven you to the verge of drink, my boy?”
Starbright shook his head.
“They were not all,” he asserted. “There is another reason. I will confess that I was tortured with jealousy after leaving you at the Grand Central and starting for New Haven. I knew, or I thought I knew, that you were going back to see Inza. You had shipped me off, to get rid of me, so you could have a clear field. I told myself that, and it made me furious at first. I continued to be tortured by such thoughts after reaching college. I could not study, sleep, train, or do anything. I was in a frightful condition. Worse than everything was the thought that you were with Inza and I had no right to interfere. I could not endure it, and I soon decided to come back here and set myself right with you. I saw it was the only thing that would enable me to rest with an easy conscience. That is what brought me to New York, and now you know why I am here.”
Starbright seemed relieved.
“My dear boy,” laughed Frank sympathetically, “you have been giving yourself no end of unnecessary worry and trouble. But now you know it was all right.”
“Perhaps it would have been better if I had remained in New Haven,” said Dick, still looking gloomy, greatly to Frank’s wonderment. “Then I should not have learned the truth concerning her, even though I continued to think myself a scoundrel.”