BART’S WILD MOVE.
It was nearly an hour later that Vance returned to the theater, wearing
a bandage over his eye, and having his hat pulled well down to hide the
fact.
He was decidedly nervous, and still there was something of triumph in
his manner. He did not seem to feel the disgrace of his misfortune as
keenly as it had been fancied he would.
“Hang it all,” said Garland, finding an opportunity to speak with Lester
alone. “You actually act as if you thought you had come off best in your
encounter with Hodge! What ails you?”
“I rather think I’ll come off best in the end,” grinned Lester, in a
peculiarly knowing manner.
“What do you mean?”
“Oh, nothing.”
“Yes, you do. I can see a peculiar under-meaning in your manner. What
has happened?”
“Nothing that I know about.”
“You did not see Hodge after leaving the theater?”
“Yes.”
“Did? Where?”
“At the hotel.”
“What was he doing?”
“Coming out of a room.”
“What room?”
“Merriwell’s.”
“What had he been doing in there?”
“How do I know?”
Garland looked at Vance steadily for some moments.
“You know something you are not telling,” he declared.
“On my word, I do not!” protested Lester, in sudden alarm. “What could I
know?”
“Well, you are acting rather queer. Has Hodge been up to anything?”
“Been up to anything?” repeated Bart’s enemy, as if he did not
understand. “What do you mean by that?”
“Oh, nothing! Let it drop. But I wonder why you think you will come out
best in the end.”
“Because I think this Hodge is a rascal, and I believe others will find
it out. That’s all.”
“I don’t understand what there is to warrant such a belief.”
“Oh, I fancy I have read him pretty thoroughly. I know just about how he
is made up.”
“I’m afraid you are off your trolley. Hodge is not popular in the
company, but I’m inclined to believe he’s on the level, for otherwise
Frank Merriwell would not have anything to do with him.”
“Merriwell may be fooled in the fellow, you know.”
“Not likely.”
“Why not?”
“They have been friends a long time. I believe they were schoolmates
together. That is why Merriwell sticks by Hodge as he does. He’s a chap
who will never turn his back on old friends, no matter what they may
do.”
Vance grinned.
“I’ll bet the time will come when Frank Merriwell will turn his back on
Bart Hodge,” he declared.
“I do not understand what reason you have for thinking that.”
“I suppose not.”
“Explain.”
“I can’t. It’s a sort of feeling I have, that’s all.”
“Well, I wouldn’t advise you to bank much on that feeling. It will fool
you. You feel that way because you hate Hodge. I don’t wonder you hate
him, but, take my advice and let him alone. He is a dangerous fellow.”
“Thank you for the advice. He isn’t half as dangerous as you think,
Garland. In fact, I regard him as perfectly harmless.”
“That eye doesn’t proclaim him to be. He must have given you that in
short order. There was a squall from Stanley, and I rushed to see what
had happened. Heard a heavy fall, and you were picking yourself up when
I arrived on the scene, while Hodge was gone.”
“That’s it!” growled Vance. “He didn’t stay to face me! He took to his
heels, like the sneak he is!”
“I hardly think he ran away.”
“I don’t care what you think; he did run away, just the same, and I’ll
bet he’ll take care not to meet me again.”
“He’ll have to meet you.”
“Perhaps not.”
“Of course, he will. You are both in the same company, and you have
business with each other in the play.”
“All the same, I don’t think Bart Hodge will dare meet me again,”
boasted Vance.
Garland turned away with an impatient gesture. He did not like Hodge,
but the seeming conceit of Vance was too much for him.
Vance saw the look on Garland’s face, and it cut him somewhat. He longed
to tell Granville something more and he opened his lips to do so, but
prudence bade him keep still, and so he did not speak.
With Hodge lacking, the rehearsal went on as well as possible, special
attention being given to the specialties.
Frank was restless and nervous. He longed to go in search of Bart, for
he fancied it was possible the hot-headed fellow had cooled down enough
to listen to reason. He observed Vance was swaggering around in a rather
remarkable manner under the circumstances.
“I wonder if he saw anything of Bart?” thought Frank.
Merry did not like Vance, but he resolved to question him, and so he
asked him if he had seen Hodge; doing so quietly in order not to attract
attention.
“Yes,” answered Lester, speaking loudly, “I saw Hodge at the hotel. He
was coming out of your room, too.”
“Coming out of my room?” questioned Frank, lifting his eyebrows.
“Yes, sir.”
“Where did he go?”
“I don’t know.”
Frank did not question the fellow any more concerning Bart. Just then,
Lester, who was looking down at his left hand, as if examining his
finger nail, gave a start, exclaiming:
“That’s queer!”
“What is queer?” asked Frank.
“My ring is gone.”
“Perhaps you left it somewhere.”
“No, I had it a while ago. I have been wearing it next to my little
finger, and I had a hard time to get it on, so I put it on my little
finger, although it was too large.”
“When was that?”
“Just before rehearsal began.”
“Then it’s likely you have lost it.”
“By gracious! I’m afraid so, and I valued it highly. It had my monogram
set in fine stones, you know, and it was a present to me. I wouldn’t
lose it for any amount of money!”
“It may be around the stage somewhere.”
In a few moments nearly everyone was searching for Lester’s ring.
Although they looked all around the stage and in the dressing rooms, it
was not found.
“You must have lost it after you left the theater, Vance,” said Rufus
Small.
“If I lost it on the street, I’ll never see it again,” said Lester,
dolefully. “It’s mighty tough!”
“Where did you go from here?”
“To a market, and then straight to the hotel.”
“Perhaps you lost it in the hotel. It may be in your room.”
Vance started and looked somewhat agitated.
“That’s so!” he cried. “I’ll look for it there if you’ll let me go, Mr.
Havener.”
“We’ll all go,” said Havener. “We can’t do anything more this
afternoon.”
“Needn’t hurry on my account,” said Vance, anxiously.
But rehearsing was over, and, not a little to Lester’s uneasiness, Frank
Merriwell left the theater at once and hurried toward the hotel. Vance
was unable to get ahead of Merry without running, and this he did not
do.
Presenting himself at the desk, Frank asked if Hodge was in his room or
around the hotel.
“No,” answered the clerk, “he has left.”
Merry caught his breath, a queer sensation striking through his heart.
“Left?” he exclaimed.
“Yes, sir.”
“You don’t mean——”
“He has settled his bill and departed.”
“Impossible!” cried Frank, in great consternation.
The clerk lifted his eyebrows, but said nothing.
“I beg your pardon,” said Merry, quickly. “I did not mean to contradict
your statement, but it does not seem possible for me to believe it. Will
you give me the particulars?”
“There are no particulars, save that he asked for his bill, paid it,
took the key to your room to get something he said he had in there, came
down very soon with his grip and coat, and left.”
It was a rare thing for Frank Merriwell to be dazed, but he seemed so
just then.
A little distance away stood Lester Vance, a look of intense
satisfaction and triumph on his face.
“Bart has gone crazy!” thought Frank, his lips being pressed together.
“He’ll be sorry for this. Unless I can stop him, there is no telling
what may become of him. I’ll not be likely to see him again for a long
time, and he is in such a reckless mood now that it will be dangerous
for him to go by himself.”
He took his key and went up to his room.
“I must have a chance to think,” he decided. “I must conclude what to
do.”
He closed the door of his room, and then he noticed a sheet of paper,
covered with writing, lying on the table. Hastily he caught it up.
“From Bart!” he breathed. “Wonder what this will tell me.”
His eyes ran over the written lines hurriedly, and this is what he read:
“FRANK: It’s no use—I quit! I suppose you will say it is a mean
trick for me to leave you this way, but I don’t care if you do! It’s
my nature cropping out. I think the devil is in me. I have taken all
the money I need, and it will be useless for you to attempt to
follow me up. You may as well let me go this time. I take the money
in place of my salary, which you have not yet paid me. HODGE.”
Frank stood there, staring at the paper—staring, staring. The words ran
together and danced before him. Something was tugging at his heart.
“Poor Hodge!” he murmured. “He cannot conquer himself.”
Then he crushed the paper and threw it on the floor.
“I’ll wager he didn’t take enough money to keep him a week!” came
hoarsely from Frank’s lips. “He should have taken twenty-five dollars,
at least, and it’s likely he hasn’t taken more than ten.”
He picked up his grip and quickly emptied it upon the bed. Then he soon
removed the false bottom and looked into it.
Frank stood there, as if turned to stone. On his face was a look of
mingled astonishment and pain.
“Gone!” he finally said, his voice cold, hard and metallic. “Every
dollar gone—eight hundred and sixty dollars in all!”
Rat-tat-tat!—a knock on the door.
Before Frank could speak the door swung open, and Granville Garland,
Douglas Dunton and Lester Vance entered.
“Mr. Merriwell,” cried Vance, “Dunton has heard something about Hodge!”
“Has he?” said Frank, with perfect coolness, as if nothing had happened
to disturb him in the least.
“I have,” nodded Dunton, looking serious. “I heard that he was seen
purchasing a ticket for St. Joseph.”
“Is it true he has gone?” asked Garland. “I could hardly believe it when
Vance told me.”
“I’m afraid he has been foolish enough to leave,” admitted Merry.
“And all because Havener called him down! My, my! How foolish! He
oughtn’t to mind a little thing like that.”
“That was not all,” said Vance significantly.
“No?”
“Remember what I told you?”
“Yes.”
“What was that?” asked Frank, sharply, causing Lester to start a bit.
“Eh? Oh—oh—nothing much. Only—only——”
“Only what?”
Vance stiffened up.
“I said Hodge would sneak,” he declared, attempting to be bold.
“Oh, you did?”
“Yes. He ran away after hitting me and I said he would not stay to face
me again. I knew he would sneak.”
“Remarkable!” exclaimed Frank, with a short laugh. “So you think Hodge
ran away to keep from meeting you again?”
“I am sure of it. He is a coward!”
“Mr. Vance,” said Frank, “whatever else Bart Hodge may be there is not a
drop of cowardly blood in his body. If you were a thousand instead of
one he would not have run away from you.”
Vance colored.
“You think so,” he said; “but I don’t fancy you know him very well for
all that you have been acquainted with him so long. I’ve never liked his
looks. To me he seemed to be a chap who would hesitate at no crime.”
Vance saw that Merry had been investigating the grip, and he fancied his
words would give the young actor-playwright a start, but Frank’s nerve
was unruffled.
“What are we going to do?” demanded Garland.
“Yes, that’s the question,” said Dunton, anxiously. “We can’t play
without Hodge to-night.”
“It strikes me that he has played you dirty, Mr. Merriwell,” said
Granville. “And he is the fellow with whom you have been so friendly!”
“A nice friend!” muttered Vance, sneeringly.
Frank was sick at heart, but his calm face did not betray the pain he
felt.
“It is possible you do not understand how matters stood,” he said. “I
had no contract with Hodge.”
“Didn’t?” cried Dunton.
“Really?” exclaimed Garland.
“That’s queer!” ejaculated Vance, in disappointment.
“No,” said Frank, “I had no contract with him, and so he has broken no
pledge to me in leaving in this manner.”
“Still,” said Dunton, “there must have been some sort of understanding
between you, and Hodge was pretty cheap to skip out without giving any
sort of notice.”
“Not exactly the act of a friend of whom one can be proud,” broke from
Garland. “I think you’ll have to acknowledge that, Mr. Merriwell.”
Frank was determined to defend Bart as far as possible.
“You do not know all that happened at the theater to-day,” he said.
“Hodge and I had some words.”
It was galling for him to make that confession, but he felt that
something must be said to explain the sudden desertion of Bart.
Garland whistled a bit.
“Then that must have happened before the unpleasantness between Hodge
and Vance?” he said.
“It did,” nodded Merry. “Hodge left me in anger. He is hot-blooded and
impulsive, and he did not stop to reason about the matter. He has
skipped out, it is evident, but I believe he will cool down and come
back when he comes to think it all over.”
“But he’ll be treating you dirty if he doesn’t come back in time for the
performance to-night,” said Garland. “You would not be likely to take
him back if he returned to-morrow. I’m sure you wouldn’t take back any
of the rest of us if we served you such a trick.”
“You can’t be sure of anything of the sort,” said Frank, sharply. “You
were not with the company when Leslie Lawrence deserted and returned to
beg pardon. I did not fancy Lawrence, he was not a friend, and yet I
took him back. If Bart Hodge returns to-morrow, I shall take him back.”
“Oh, you can do as you like about that,” said Garland.
“I suppose you would take him back if he had stolen your clothes from
you?” asked Vance, jeeringly.
“If I chose to I certainly should,” answered Merry, his eyes seeming to
bore Bart’s enemy through.
“Hodge didn’t have much money yesterday,” said Vance, staring at the
open grip. “I wonder how he happened to have enough to-day to settle his
hotel bill and purchase a ticket?”
“How do you know he didn’t have money yesterday?”
Frank shot the question at Vance.
“Oh, he—I—I heard him say so on the train.”
“Did you?”
“Yes. Where do you suppose he got his money?”
“Perhaps I let him have it.”
Vance was disappointed and puzzled. He could not understand why
Merriwell did not denounce Hodge, for he was certain Frank had
discovered the money was gone. Was it possible Merry intended to keep
silent and not charge Hodge with the robbery? Vance could hardly believe
such a thing possible. He could not fathom the depths of such fidelity
to a treacherous friend.
“What’s this?” said Garland, stooping and picking up the crumpled sheet
of paper. “There’s writing upon it.”
“Yes,” said Frank, as he quickly took it from the man’s hand. “I threw
it down there.”
Again Vance was disappointed.
“Merriwell is too proud to let us know,” he thought. “He doesn’t want us
to think he was fooled by Hodge.”
“Well, I, for one, shall not feel very good toward Hodge if he does come
back,” admitted Dunton. “What are we going to do, Mr. Merriwell? The
town is billed for the play, the day has arrived for the performance,
and there is a big advance sale.”
“We’ll have to lay off to-night,” answered Frank, as if that settled it
without further talk. “I will attend to that. Don’t let it worry you.”
“How can you get a man to fill Hodge’s place?” asked Garland.
“That I do not know yet.”
“I wonder what he was after in this room,” came from Vance, in a last
desperate effort to force Frank to speak out. “He sneaked out of here as
if he had committed a crime. You haven’t lost anything, have you, Mr.
Merriwell? He didn’t take anything from you, did he?”
“I haven’t looked around yet,” was the cool answer. “As for coming into
this room, he had a right to do that at any time. It was a privilege I
gave him, and it was always so understood by hotel clerks wherever we
stopped. I know you do not like Hodge, but take my advice, don’t try to
make him appear worse than he is. I don’t like it, and I won’t have it!”
Frank walked to the door and opened it.
“Gentlemen,” he said, “I beg you to excuse me. I have business to look
after, and time is valuable now.”
They took the hint and filed out. The door closed after them. Vance
wheeled about and looked toward the door, his lips curling in scorn.
“Merriwell is a fool!” he declared.