“There are lots of joy forever here this evening,” observed Jack Ready, as he surveyed the assembly of pretty girls and manly youths. “In fact, it’s been a long time since I’ve had the pleasure of looking on such a fine collection of joy forever.”
“What are you trying to get off?” asked Bert Dashleigh, who for once was unaccompanied by his mandolin, which made him feel very lonesome, although every one else was well satisfied. “What are joys forever?”
“Things of beauty, of course,” explained Jack, with an expression of contempt. “My callow young friend, it is barely possible that you have heard it said that a ‘thing of beauty is a joy forever.’”
“I believe I have,” faltered Bert.
“Well, just take a look at those stunning girls. Aren’t they things of beauty? Then, of course, they are joys forever. Where do you get off?”
“Anywhere,” muttered Bert meekly. “You have such flowery ways of saying things that——”
“That will do!” said Jack loftily. “It is plain you belong to the common herd that does not understand the poetic feelings of those who soar to heavenlyheights. By Jove! there is Jennie Dwight! I wonder if she will lend me her chewing-gum.” And away he went in pursuit of a vivacious-looking girl.
It was the evening of the party at Whitney Hill, and Doctor Lincoln’s handsome residence was thronged with beautiful girls and bright-looking young men. From basement to attic the mansion was glittering with lights, and the sound of music and laughter and chattering voices seemed to come from every part of it.
Elsie was happy. Of course, she had been compelled to meet scores of strangers when she would have preferred to be enjoying herself with a group of her own particular friends, but all were kind and pleasant, and a spirit of good-fellowship seemed to pervade the gathering.
Never in her life had Elsie looked more attractive. Her dress was of some gray-silk substance, made over pink, which gave it a delicate tint that seemed to match her complexion perfectly. Her eyes were blue as the summer sky, and shining like stars, while the smile that flitted about her sweet mouth made it seem sweeter than usual.
The heart of Bart Hodge had given one great throb when his eyes rested upon her.
“How beautiful she is!” he inwardly cried.
She gave him her hand, with a pressure that thrilled his every nerve. The hot blood was in his cheeks, and she saw the love-light flame deep in his intense eyes.She knew how much he cared for her, and his love was something that made her afraid at times, for not yet did she understand her own heart.
Frank came. He was splendid, and he had a way of saying something pleasant in a manner that did not seem prosaically conventional. Pretty girls flocked round him, and he showed that he was one of those rare men who, while in every way a “man’s man,” could be quite at his ease in the presence of the other sex.
It was a perfect spring evening, so warm that the windows were thrown open and many of the guests sought the breeze that could be found on the broad veranda. Out there Chinese lanterns dangled and glowed, and the throng strolled beneath them.
Somewhere behind a screen of palms and flowers an orchestra gave forth sweet music. The heroes of Yale, the gridiron gladiator, the baseball man, the hammer-thrower, the sprinter, and others who had done things, were in great demand by the pretty girls.
But of all the heroes present Frank Merriwell was the most popular. The girls crowded to get a look at him, to speak to him, to hear his voice and receive a smile from him.
“He is it!” declared Jack Ready. “He has the call in this little game. I don’t know another fellow who wouldn’t look a little foolish or self-conscious. He doesn’t seem to know that he’s just about the wholeblooming show. That makes him all the more popular. I am for boycotting him.”
“Boycott him!” growled Browning. “He’ll be girl-caught if he doesn’t look out. There isn’t a pretty girl here who doesn’t stand ready to fling herself at his head on the slightest provocation.”
“But what sort of a show do we stand?” sighed Ready sadly. “All the girls seem to want to talk about Merriwell, Merriwell, Merriwell. I just told a saucy young miss that I thought him perfectly horrid. She gave me the icy eye at once. Bet a button she won’t know me the next time we meet.”
“You should know better. You’re old enough.”
“But I’d like to be a little bit of a tin hero to somebody,” the queer sophomore sobbed. “I’m going to do something. I have made up my mindto do somethingto produce notice. What would you advise?”
“Shoot yourself,” said Bruce gravely. “You’ll get an obituary notice.”
“Thanks!” retorted Jack. “I am not seeking posthumous glory, my wise friend. I don’t know of anything I have less use for. I want to do something that will make a lot of stunning girls cuddle round me like flies around a molasses-barrel. Now, if I could only take part in a duel!”
“You will ‘duel’ to avoid such a method of obtaining glory,” said Bruce.
Jack gasped.
“Air!” he moaned faintly.
“That’s all anybody finds in your vicinity,” said Bruce, moving away.
Next to Merriwell, Dick Starbright seemed the most popular with the girls. The handsome freshman giant had won his spurs on the football-field. Having the build of a Spartan gladiator, the rosy face of a boy, and the pleasant manners of a Yale gentleman, it was not strange that he should find himself almost constantly the center of a bevy of handsome girls. And he knew what it meant when, in a careless, apparently thoughtless, manner, some of them rested their hands on his arm for a moment. They wanted to feel his muscle!
Hodge might have had a flock around him, but he was so dark and stern that they seemed a little afraid of him. When they gathered near, he did not seem to mind them. There was only one girl among them all for Bart, and he was impatiently waiting the time when she would be at liberty to give him some of her attention.
Doctor Lincoln seemed very happy. His heavy face wore a smile, but Bart fancied the wild light lurked in his eyes. The doctor found Hodge and drew him aside.
“I have been listening to the talk,” he said. “I have heard these young people speaking of Merriwell as such a wonder. And Starbright—they seem to think he is very strong.”
“He is,” said Bart.
“I presume so—in a way. He is big, and, of course, he must have a certain amount of strength. But he is not what I rate as truly strong.”
“Isn’t he?”
“Not at all. Do you think he could lift that stone out there in the grove?”
“He might.”
The doctor frowned.
“Perhaps he might, but I doubt it. I am certain Merriwell could not lift it.”
“Don’t be too certain. Frank Merriwell is far stronger than he looks. I fancy, if put to the test, he’d be able to show himself even stronger than Starbright.”
“Do you think that?” exclaimed the doctor, in apparent surprise. “Well, you know them both, and you may be right. But how I could astonish them. They do not know that I am the strongest man in the world, do they?”
“I don’t think they do.”
Somehow, this answer seemed to arouse the man’s suspicions.
“Have you betrayed my secret?” he whispered rather fiercely. “You promised that you would not. Have you told them that I am the strongest man in the world?”
“No.”
“You are sure?”
“Yes.”
The man seemed to draw a breath of relief.
“I was afraid you had done so,” he said. “You must keep my secret. You must not breathe it to a soul. I don’t know why I trusted you. It was foolish of me.”
Bart said nothing.
“You took me by surprise,” declared the strange doctor. “You were watching me there in the grove. Why were you watching me? Answer that question.”
“It happened quite by chance.”
“Did it? Then you were not spying upon me?”
“Of course not.”
“I thought perhaps you might have been. I have kept the great secret until the time comes to divulge it, which I shall do in a most sensational manner. I have not yet decided how it is to be, but I shall do something to rival the act of Samson when he pulled down the temple upon his enemies. I have enemies. You may not know it, but it is true. I have secret enemies, and they would rob me of my strength if they knew I possessed it. That is why I wish to keep it a secret until the time comes. Then I shall call them all out in a body and topple some massive building down upon them. That will obliterate them, and they will give me no more trouble.”
He was speaking in a quiet tone of voice, and anyone observing him must have fancied he was simply chatting with Bart about ordinary matters.
More than ever was Hodge satisfied that the man was a dangerous lunatic. And he was all the more dangerous because he had craftily concealed from those who knew him best the fact of his derangement. They simply thought him “queer,” but it was not likely that any of them dreamed that his mind was actually unbalanced.
“When the time comes,” the doctor continued, “I may ask you to assist me in calling my enemies together. Oh, I’ll show you some sport! You love sport, and you’ll laugh at this, I promise you. We will get them to stand in one long row, and then I’ll bring the bricks and mortar and stone and iron thundering down upon them. It will be just like children playing with blocks.”
The doctor laughed silently to himself as he thought of this, and Bart felt a cold shiver creeping over him.
“I must tell Elsie everything,” he thought. “She must not remain in the house with this madman.”
Then he saw her coming toward them.
“Excuse me, doctor,” he said. “I wish to have a chat with Miss Bellwood.”
“But not a word of the great secret to her!” warned the man, in a whisper. “If you value your life, be silent!”