BURT L. STANDISH Ultimate Collection: 24 Action Thrillers in One Volume (Illustrated) - Burt L. Standish

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any harm, old man, but you did me a bad turn last night."

      Bart stared, and asked:

      "How?"

      "By taking me where I could sit into a game like that. I am going to tell you something. I have one great failing—one terrible fault that quite overshadows all my other failings and faults. That is my passion for cards—or, to put it more strongly and properly, my passion for gambling."

      Bart whistled.

      "You don't mean to say that you have a failing or a fault that you cannot govern, do you?" he asked.

      Frank put out one hand, and partly turned away. Instantly Bart sprang forward and caught the hand, saying swiftly:

      "There, there, Merriwell—don't notice it! I didn't mean anything. You are sensitive to-day. Hang it all, man! do you think I want to hurt your feelings without cause! I shouldn't have said it, for I see you are not yourself."

      "No, I am not," confessed Frank. "You know every fellow has a secret. I did not intend to tell mine. I believe I was born with an intense passion for gambling."

      "And you cannot govern it?"

      "Well, I have been able to do so during the past year."

      "Oh, you are all right; you have a strong mind and——"

      "Every strong mind has a weak spot. I began gaming by playing marbles, and the passion grew on me. When I had money, I gambled for cents and nickels. As I grew older, I learned to play cards, and I gambled for larger sums. If I knew that a game was going on I would leave everything to get into it. Once I 'appropriated' money from my mother's purse to gamble with."

      Frank stopped. His face crimsoned as he uttered the words, and he showed his deep shame and humiliation. But he quickly added:

      "That was my first and last theft. The shame and disgrace of exposure by my mother was nearly more than I could endure. But she did not know I played cards for money. Thank God! she never knew! She died when I was twelve years old.

      "I never knew much about my father's business. He was much away from home, and I saw him but little. After mother's death, I went to live with my uncle. Still I played cards for money, and the passion grew upon me. A little more than a year ago I was rapidly developing into a young gambler. Then came news of my father's sudden death in California, and I swore I would never play cards again. Last night I broke my oath."

      "What was the cause of your father's death?" asked Bart, by way of saying something.

      "He was shot over a game of cards in a gambling-house," replied Frank, hoarsely.

      CHAPTER VI.

       THE PLOT.

       Table of Contents

      Wat Snell and Leslie Gage were roommates, and they certainly made a delectable pair.

      Gage was naturally the leader, being the worse of the two. He was a daring and reckless sort of fellow—one who would not stop at anything, and who would have recourse to almost any measure to gain his ends.

      This revengeful fellow had never forgiven Merriwell for what he considered a great injury. Gage had been the pitcher on the regular ball team, but, by superior skill, Merriwell had supplanted him. That was enough to produce in Gage's heart a feeling of undying hatred for the successful plebe.

      It made no difference that Frank had, in all probability, saved him from death after he had twice attempted to kill Merriwell. Gage had been shrewd enough to see that he must dissemble if he would remain in the academy, and so he pretended to be repentant and to think Frank one of the finest fellows in the world, while his hatred and longing for "revenge" still lay hidden, black and hideous, in a secret corner of his heart.

      Snell was quite a different sort of bad boy. He regarded Gage as his superior, and he was ready to do almost anything for the fellow, but he could not imitate Leslie's daring, and he kept his own vileness so much concealed that many square, honest lads believed he was a really good fellow. Bart Hodge had begun to think Snell was a sneak and bad, but he had no proof of it, and so he kept still.

      Wat was in anything but a pleasant mood the day after the game of cards. He flung things round the room in a way that caused Gage to regard him with wonder, as it was so much unlike the usual quiet, crafty roommate he knew.

      "What's the matter with you, Wat?" he asked, in surprise. "You must be ill. Go directly and place those things where they belong, for we never know when one of those blooming inspectors will pop in. I am room orderly this week, and am going to have things kept straight, for I can't afford to take any more demerit. My record is bad enough as it stands."

      So, with a little grumbling, Wat went about and restored to order the things he had disarranged, but he could not help thinking how often, when he was room orderly, he had been obliged to follow Gage about, and gather up things he had displaced.

      "What's the matter?" repeated Leslie, who suspected the truth. "You don't seem to feel well, old boy."

      "Oh, it's nothing," replied Wat. "I was thinking of last night."

      "And raising all this row because you happened to drop a dollar. Why, that's the run of the cards."

      "Oh, it wasn't what I lost that made me mad."

      "Then what was it?"

      "Why, I was thinking that that fellow Merriwell won."

      "And I presume you were thinking how he won the last pot, eh?"

      "Yes"—sullenly.

      "You don't love Merriwell a great deal?"

      "I should say not! I despise the fellow!"

      "And you'd like to get square?"

      "Wouldn't I!"

      "I suppose you mean to do so?"

      "If I ever get the chance—yes."

      "I fancy you are aware that I am not dead stuck on Merriwell myself?"

      "Yes, I know."

      "I have an old score to settle with him, and I will settle it some way. I failed in one or two attempts to do him up, for——"

      "You were altogether too bold, partner mine; and it's a wonder you were not expelled from the academy. You would have been if Merriwell had blowed on you."

      "That's right, and he would have done so if he had known what was good for him. He is soft!"

      "In some things he may be soft, but you must acknowledge he is hard enough in others. He has a way of coming on top in almost everything."

      Gage could not deny this, and it made him angry to think of it.

      "You are right," he said, fiercely. "I suppose I was foolish to fight him in the way I did. That big bully Bascomb got a hold on me, and he has been blackmailing me ever since. Hang that fellow! I'll choke the wind out of him yet!"

      A crafty look came to Snell's face, and he said:

      "There are ways to down a fellow without showing your hand."

      "I suppose so; but it usually takes too long to suit me. I like to jump on an enemy at once, and do him up."

      "Well, I hope you are satisfied that Merriwell is the kind of a fellow who will not be jumped on that way?"

      "It seems so."

      "Then it is possible you are ready to try some other method?"

      Their eyes met, and Wat grinned significantly.

      "How do you mean?" asked Leslie, eagerly. "You have some kind of a scheme?"

      "That fellow won some money off me, and I refused to take it back. He must show up again, and give me a chance to square the score. He is bound in honor not to refuse to do so."

      "That's

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