Don shook his head. A short time before he had been eager to believe anything bad of Renwood; but, for all that, he was not satisfied with Bentley’s explanation of Dolph’s reasons for invading the dressing-room and destroying the football and suits.
“I can’t see how such a trick would do him any good,” averred the logical Don. “If he wants to make a lot of flub players out of the Rockspur crowd, so they will lose the game, I should think he could find a better way to carry out his purpose. To me it seems that the destruction of the suits and football was a piece of petty spite, and, much as I’d like to, I can’t see any reason for such spite on the part of Renwood.”
“Then you don’t think he did it?” asked Bentley, in a disappointed way.
Don’s eyes fell on something that lay upon the table, half concealed by a magazine, and he suddenly sprang to his feet once more, snatching up this object and crying:
“Yes, I believe he did the job, even though I can’t understand why, and here in my hand is the proof against him!”
He displayed the handsome knife he had wrested from his antagonist of the previous night.
At sight of that knife Leon Bentley gave a start and turned pale.
CHAPTER XIII.
DON ACCUSES RENWOOD.
Don could scarcely fail to observe his companion’s strange agitation and pallor.
“Well, what’s the matter with you?” he exclaimed, wonderingly.