“And we didn’t learn anything, after all,” added our hero.
Dave and his chum rejoined the merry throng at the other bonfires. But the celebration in honor of the baseball victory was practically at an end, and a little later the students retired, to 113 skylark a little in the dormitories, and then settle down for the night.
A week passed, and Dave stuck to his studies as persistently as ever. During that time he sent off several letters, and received a number in return, including one from Jessie, which he treasured very highly and which he did not show to his chums.
“Here is news of Link Merwell,” said Luke Watson, one day, as he came along with a letter. “It’s from a friend of mine who knows Merwell. He says he saw Link in Quebec, Canada, at one of the little French hotels in the lower town.”
“What was Merwell doing?” questioned Dave, with interest.
“Nothing much, so my friend writes. He says Link was dressed in a blue suit and wore blue glasses, and he thought his hair was dyed.”
“Evidently doing what he could to disguise himself,” was Phil’s comment.
“My friend writes that he saw Merwell only one evening. The next day he was missing. He made inquiries and says he was at the hotel under the name of V. A. Smith, of Albany, New York.”
“He does not dare to travel around under his own name,” remarked Shadow. “Say, that puts me in mind of a story,” he went on, brightening up. “Once a chap changed his name, because––” 114
“Say, cut it out,” interrupted Phil. “We want to hear about Merwell.”