was afraid of you, and I
had to do something to protect myself."

"So you blew the whole thing to Merriwell! That was a brave trick. But I
understand Merriwell has turned you down in great shape since that."

"Well, he hasn't used me right," admitted Ditson. "Sometimes I think I'd
like to kick the wind out of him, but I know I can't do it."

"You may have the chance to take the wind out of him," said Harris. "Sit
down, old man, and we will talk matters over. What are you drinking?"

"Bring me a sherry flip, waiter," ordered Ditson, seeing the waiter had
paused outside.

Then he sat down in a chair offered him, saying:

"If there's any sure way of doing Merriwell up, I'm in for it; but I
give it to you straight that I am sick of trying to do him and having
him come out on top. It's got to be a sure thing this time, or I don't
touch it."

Beyond a thin partition in a room next to the one occupied by the four
plotters sat a man who had a cut and bruised face and a pair of swollen
black eyes.

This man had been drinking heavily. A bottle of whiskey and a glass sat
on the little table before him. He was alone in the room.

He had seemed to suddenly lose all interest in the whiskey, and he was
leaning against the board partition with his ear close to a crack,
intently listening to the talk of the four lads in the next room.

The man had heard Frank Merriwell's name spoken, and that was the first
thing to attract his attention to what the occupants of the next room
were saying.

"That's the fellow!" muttered the man, hoarsely. "He's the one what gave
me these beautiful peepers and pretty mug! I'll give him something worse
than this before long."

Then he decided to listen.

"Wonder if them chaps is his friends? I'll jest see what they're sayin'
about him."

It was not long before the man was able to hear enough to satisfy him
that the lads in the next room were anything but friends of Frank
Merriwell, and he listened with fresh eagerness.

He heard Ditson come in with the waiter, and caught much of the
conversation that followed. Then Ditson sat down, and the plotters
lowered their voices.

"That settles it!" exclaimed the man. "I'm goin' right in there and see
if they don't want to take me inter the gang. Them college ducks will be
jest the fellers to help me in gettin' back at Frank Merriwell."

He got up, left the little room, and went around to the door of the
other room. Without stopping to knock, he