“Good gracious! You can’t suspect that I told anything about it, man?”
“But I hate this fellow Merriwell. Don’t think I’d let him get onto anything like that!”
“You drink too much whisky at times, Mr. Packard.”
“But I have not since this plot was formed—I have not been under the influence of drink for a moment! I swear to you that no hint of this has escaped my lips!”
“Then there was but one other way for it to reach Merriwell. Defarge has said that Merriwell had the power to force him to anything. He must have blabbed!”
“That’s right!” grated Packard. “It has put us in a mighty awkward place, for it gave Merriwell the chance to turn the tables on us.”
“Yes; but I shall defeat him at everything, just the same, so we will be triumphant in the end.”
“I pray you do!” muttered Roland. “I shall be guyed to death if you don’t.”
“Don’t worry. I’ll soon show you that I can count on him at will in fencing; I will throw him twice out of three times when we wrestle, and I’ll wind up by putting him out in the boxing-match.”
“Do it!” panted Packard, “and this will be the happiest day I’ve seen in a year!”
“Are you ready?” called the voice of Hodge.
The foils were offered for Hawkins to make his selection, which he quickly did. Then the masks were adjusted, and the two young athletes stood face to face, with Merriwell’s breathless friends looking on.
“Gentlemen, salute!” sounded the clear voice of Hodge, to whom had fallen the privilege of giving the signal.
The contestants responded with a sweep of their foils.
Click! The foils touched and slid along each other lightly.
Then followed such a display of light-footedness, agility, and skill as those present had never before witnessed. In a very few seconds it became evident to all that the stranger with the scarred face was wonderfully clever, but, with all his cleverness, he failed in his first four attempts to count on Merriwell. A backward leap, a quick side-step, or a simple turn of the wrist sufficed to enable Frank to escape in each instance.
But in the meantime Merry had made two attempts, and each had been balked with equal ease.
“Ye gods!” breathed Jack Ready. “Here is where we get the real article, and no discount!”
Then, of a sudden, to the astonishment of every spectator, the stranger tried Frank Merriwell’s own particular and peculiar thrust. With shortened guard, he dropped like a flash, his body straightening out and the fingers of his left hand resting on the floor, while his foil flashed straight out in a long thrust.