FRANK FORCES THE TRUTH.
Bart went straight to Merriwell’s room and turned over the confession.
He watched Merriwell’s face, glowing with exultation, as Frank read the
remarkable statement of Defarge.
“Where did you get this?” Merry asked, when he had finished.
Bart explained, and Frank listened.
“Well, this is rather astonishing, to say the least,” Merry admitted,
frowning over it.
“It proves beyond the least doubt that Morgan is still your enemy,
though he is trying to strike you in the most dastardly way without
becoming implicated himself.”
“It seems to prove that,” Frank admitted.
“Well, now you have him in your power. But Defarge is mortally afraid of
the fellow.”
Then Hodge explained the promises he had made to the French youth.
“That being the case,” said Merry, as he folded the confession and put
it into his pocket, “I don’t see how we are going to use this document
against Morgan. Do you?”
“You must drop Morgan from the ball-team. That will hurt him as much as
anything.”
“How can I do that without an explanation? Would it be right?”
“Right? How can you stop to think of such a thing in connection with
that fellow? He ought to be forced to leave college!”
“I agree with you in that, but it cannot be done now, as you have given
Defarge those promises, and Defarge might fall with Morgan.”
“Then hang the promises to Defarge! That fellow is a scoundrel, and
promises to such dogs do not hold!”
“Yes, they do! With me a promise to any man, high or low, honest or
dishonest, saint or scoundrel, holds good!”
“But you don’t mean to say that you will not do a thing?” snarled Bart,
in bitter disappointment.
“No, I do not say that; but I shall wait a while before I make a move. I
may find some other thing by which I can drop Morgan from the
team—something that will permit me to be square and open in whatever I
do. Wait and see, Bart.”
The work in the cage went on regularly day after day, and each day the
poorer men were weeded out from the great mass and dropped. From nearly
a hundred men the squad thinned down to fifty, to forty, to thirty.
Still Dade Morgan remained, though Defarge had been dropped. The latter
could not understand it. Apparently Merriwell had made not the slightest
move after receiving the confession. One day Bertrand ventured to ask
Hodge if he had given the confession to Frank, but Bart snarled at him
furiously and would not answer.
Indeed, Hodge was in a most disagreeable humor, kept so by the manner in
which Morgan hung on. Fully believing the fellow a wretch of the most
dastardly dye, Bart could not understand Merry’s laxity in not forcing
Dade to get out, and this served to put Hodge in anything but an
agreeable temper.
Many times Frank had studied the confession of Defarge. He did so while
quite alone in his own room, and he found something about it that
convinced him of falseness and insincerity.
At least ten more men would be dropped before the team would start on
the Southern trip, and out of the eighteen or twenty men who were to
play during the Easter holidays would come the regular nine.
There was still time enough to drop Morgan, but Frank did not wish to
drop him without being satisfied of the absolute justice of such a move.
He had watched Morgan closely, and saw there was good baseball-material
in the lithe, supple youth. More than that, he saw that Morgan might
develop into a clever pitcher, and Frank greatly needed assistance in
the box, for he could not pitch all the games.
One night, while sitting alone and meditating over the remarkable
confession, Frank began to think of the time he had quelled and
controlled Defarge by the power of his eyes. He remembered that the
French youth had seemed absolutely helpless beneath his influence.
All at once, Merry sprang to his feet, exclaiming:
“It’s worth trying!”
Two minutes later he had left his room. He found Hodge and said:
“I want you. Come along with me, and don’t say a word.”
Bart was ready enough, for he fancied Frank had decided at last to act
against Morgan. But Merriwell led the way to the rooms occupied by
Bertrand Defarge, and, by rare good luck, they found the French youth
there alone.
Defarge was astonished when both Merriwell and Hodge entered without
stopping to knock. He was more astonished when Hodge again closed and
locked the door.
What were they after? With pale face, Defarge rose, and faced Frank
Merriwell. Frank’s eyes met his squarely, and in their depths the
accuser of Morgan saw something that made him shiver.
“What—what do you want?” he weakly asked.
“We have called to see you a few moments,” said Frank, in a calm,
soothing tone. “Don’t be alarmed. We have not the least intention of
harming you physically.” He had advanced to the table as he spoke, still
keeping his eyes fastened on Bertrand’s, who seemed to feel a strange
power creeping over him and pervading his entire being. “Let’s sit down
here by the table where we can talk,” urged Frank.
Defarge sank into a chair, still staring at Frank’s eyes. As the French
youth sank, so sank Merriwell, and Hodge saw them sit looking at each
other over the table. Bart held his breath, wondering what was to
follow.
Frank seemed to put his very soul into that look, and Defarge gradually
paled and took on a limp and lifeless expression, although he sat there
looking at Merry.
With a gentle motion, Frank leaned over and lightly touched Bertrand on
the forehead. Defarge remained motionless, without winking.
“It is well,” said Merry. “You must now answer my questions faithfully
and truly. You will do so!”
It was a command.
“I will.”
Bertrand’s voice was hollow and listless.
“Now,” said Frank, turning to Bart, with a smile, “We’ll find out the
real truth. He cannot lie to me if he wishes.”
“What in the name of all that’s wonderful have you done to him?” gasped
the astounded fellow, approaching the table. “Have you——”
“Yes,” nodded Merry. “You remember the time he tried to stab me while
intoxicated. I discovered then that I possessed this power over him.
To-night I resolved to exercise it to make him speak the truth.”
Then he turned to Bertrand, while Bart looked on and listened
expectantly:
“Defarge, do you regard Morgan as a friend?”
“No.”
“Do you like him?”
“No.”
“Do you hate him?”
“Yes.”
“Why do you hate him?”
“Because he was once friendly toward me, but now seems to be ready to
become your friend.”
“Would you like to do him an injury?”
“Yes.”
“Has he any influence over you?”
“No.”
“Not the slightest?”
“Not the slightest.”
“Then he cannot compel you to do anything he commands?”
“No.”
“He did not force you to conceal yourself beside the road one night when
the squad took a run into the suburbs and throw a stone at me?”
“No.”
“You did that of your own accord?”
“I did.”
Frank took the confession from his pocket and held it before Bertrand’s
eyes.
“Then this confession is false?”
“Every word of it.”
“That’s all,” said Frank quietly, as he tore the paper into shreds. “I
have nothing further to ask you. But now, while you are in this
condition, I want to force upon you the knowledge that you cannot harm
me if you try. More than that, I want you to know that you can never try
to harm me again. I hold absolute power over you, and you will never
again lift a hand to do me an injury.”
Defarge bowed slightly.
Merry rose and passed his hand before Bertrand’s eyes.
“Wake up!” he said sharply. “I’ve finished with you!”
The French youth gave a start, rubbed his eyes, stared at Frank and
Bart, and mumbled:
“Why, what—what—where-—-”
Merriwell and Hodge were retreating. Bart turned the key in the lock.
“Good night,” said Merriwell, as the door closed behind them.
“Well, I’ll be hanged!” muttered Hodge, when they were outside.