Читать книгу Dick Merriwell's Heroic Players; Or, How the Yale Nine Won the Championship - Burt L. Standish - Страница 12

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Parker had laid his plans well. But he had made two mistakes. He had not allowed for the fact that while it would not be easy for Dick Merriwell, though he might know the truth himself, or, at least, strongly suspect it, to convince others, it would make his task much easier than if he were kept wholly in the dark himself. And, as Dick had said, he had used his knife to slit open the envelope of the registered letter.

Shesgren, after his defiant outburst, Parker had left to reflect upon the folly of his sudden repentance. He had ordered Carpenter to see that his friend did not suffer for lack of food and water, and, indeed, had forced Carpenter to spend the night in Shesgren’s rooms. And he had arranged, also, for Shesgren’s release on Friday morning, in time for him to be found by Dick Merriwell and the others, with the money on him to confirm what he knew they would hear from Chetwind; namely, that it had been Shesgren who had served as a go-between.

Until the time of the game with the Boston team, Parker had had nothing to do with Chetwind, and, when he had approached the real-estate man, he had told him that his name was Shesgren. That was the trump card that he had kept up his sleeve, concealing it from his two associates, so that, in case they went back on him, as Shesgren had actually done, he would have something in reserve.

He knew that Shesgren would immediately go to Merriwell and tell him what had happened. But he did not believe that Merriwell, after what he had heard from Chetwind, would believe such an unlikely story. That chance he had to take. But he thought it was a very slight one, and that he was really safe at least, with success certain to attend his plot.

Shesgren had just been released, when Dick Merriwell and the two sophomores appeared in the doorway of the house where he lived. He was hastening, as fast as his stiffened legs would let him, in search of them when he met them.

“Come on upstairs with me,” he pleaded.

And, back in his room, he told them the whole story, as he knew it. When he was done, he threw the money down on the floor.

“There’s the money,” he said. “I know this sounds like a wild yarn, but, on my honor, it’s true. I’d never have gone into the thing at all, if I’d any idea that Parker was going to try to work such a trick. He said that Phillips wasn’t as good as he tried to make out, and that it would be easy to prove it. I was willing to stand for that, though I see now that even that was dirty business, but I never supposed that Parker would go as far as he did.”

“Will you come with me and repeat this story before Parker?” asked Dick Merriwell. “I believe every word you’ve told us, Shesgren, unlikely as it seems, and I think, what’s more, that I’ll be able to prove enough of it to make Parker confess the rest.”

“I’ll do anything you want,” said Shesgren furiously. “I hate that fellow Parker, and I’d do anything I could to make trouble for him.”

“I don’t blame you much for feeling that way,” said Dick, smiling, “but I guess that Parker will find himself needing sympathy before long.”

“He won’t get it from me,” said Bill Brady spitefully; and they all laughed. The big catcher’s remark relieved the tension.

Dick Merriwell, as he led the way to Parker’s room, realized fully that the hardest part of his fight to clear Jim Phillips was still before him. If Parker refused to confess, and could induce his accomplice, Carpenter, to stand by him, it would be hard, indeed, to prove that Jim was all right. Against the positive statements of both Carpenter and Parker, Shesgren’s unsupported word wouldn’t count for much. But the universal coach was used to fighting against odds, and he felt that he was really more than a match for Parker.

Parker greeted them with a satirical smile, and invited them to sit down.

“I am honored by this visit,” he said, looking at them. “Any friends of yours, Mr. Merriwell, are welcome, of course. Have you come to talk over the football season?”

“No use, Parker,” said Dick quietly, but dangerously. “I know the whole story. And I’m not any the more inclined to be easy on you because you were trying to reach me, and were quite ready to ruin a friend of mine as a means of hurting me. Shesgren has told me everything.”

“Indeed?” said Parker. “I don’t know what he’s told you, of course, but I suppose it must be something very interesting. I’d like to hear it.”

“Repeat what you told us just now, Shesgren,” says Dick. “If Parker wants to brazen it out, I’m willing to take a little extra trouble.”

Parker laughed when Shesgren, trembling with anger, finished.

“You ought to start writing for the magazines, Shesgren,” he said. “I suppose I don’t need to tell you, Mr. Merriwell, that there isn’t a word of truth in all this wild story?”

“You certainly need not tell me that,” said Dick, “because I know that you’re not telling the truth when you do. I have also seen Mr. Chetwind. He has told me who it was that acted for him, or with him, in this matter.”

“Yes?” said Parker. “He didn’t mention my name, by any chance?”

“No,” said Dick. “You were quite clever there. But you forgot one thing. Chetwind named Shesgren—but he described you.”

“Really,” said Parker, “this is getting rather tiresome. I’ve got some work to do. I’ll be glad to see you some other time, but as you haven’t anything really important to say, perhaps you’ll leave me alone now.”

“Then you refuse to admit that these things are so?” asked Dick, pretending to be much cast down.

“I can’t do anything else,” said Parker calmly, though his eyes showed his delight, for he thought he had won.

“Well, in that case,” Dick began, risingly slowly to his feet. “Oh, by the way, can you lend me a knife? I want——”

Unsuspiciously, Parked whipped his knife out of his pocket. In a moment Dick had opened it—it was a single-bladed one—and slit open half a dozen envelopes that he snatched from his pocket.

Parker’s face went white with rage.

“What are you doing with my knife?” he cried furiously, and sprang forward, as if to snatch the knife away. But Bill Brady was in his path, and he was sent sprawling to the floor.

“Look here!” cried Dick triumphantly.

He laid the registered letter by the side of the other envelopes that he had opened with the knife. The cut was clean in each, save for a single break, where, evidently, a piece had been nicked from the sharp steel. And the knife blade, when it was compared with the paper, showed a break that corresponded exactly.

“You see?” cried Dick. “That confirms one, and the most important, part of Shesgren’s story. You thought you were safe—but you overlooked a detail that knocks your whole carefully built house of lies to the ground. Will you confess now, or shall I send for a post-office inspector? You’ve tampered with a registered letter—and you know what that means.”

Parker knew, and the knowledge cowed him, blustery as he had been when he thought he held the upper hand. He was white and shaken as he rose from the floor.

“You win,” he said, snarling, with a look of hate for Shesgren, who eyed him angrily, remembering his sleepless and agonizing night.

“Write out a confession of this whole plot,” ordered Dick Merriwell. “Also, you must withdraw as a candidate for the football captaincy. If you will do those two things, I will undertake to keep this matter quiet.”

It was a bitter dose for Parker, beaten and disgraced just as he thought himself on the threshold of success, to have to swallow. But there was nothing for him to do—no way in which, at the time, at least, he could renew the struggle. He was in Dick Merriwell’s power, and in a moment of utter frankness with himself, he realized that he was fortunate. Some men would not have let him off so easily. He sat down at his desk, and, with the universal coach looking over his shoulder to see that he set down the truth and the whole truth, he wrote out a confession of his plot against Jim Phillips, and of the part he had forced Carpenter to play in it.

He followed this unpleasant task by writing a letter to the manager of the football team, in which he asked that his name be withdrawn from the list of those trying to win the captaincy, and then, snarling, turned on his enemies.

“Get out, now!” he cried, “and leave me alone. You’ve got what you want this time. But some of you may be sorry yet that you’ve got me for an enemy.”

“Be careful!” said Dick warningly. “You’ve got off easily this time. Your confession will be shown to the Harvard authorities, and then it will be kept quiet. But you may find yourself in serious trouble if you attempt any more dirty work.”

Carpenter put up no such resistance as Parker had. When he found that Dick Merriwell knew what he had done, he was only eager to confess and to excuse himself, as best he might. He had repented already of his wrongdoing, but, unlike Shesgren, he had lacked the strength of character to defy Parker and tell the truth of his own free will.

Jim Phillips found it easy to forgive his wretched classmate. After Carpenter had written a hasty line or two, confirming all that Parker had confessed, Jim lingered behind the others.

“I don’t bear any ill will, Carpenter,” he said. “Let’s be friends, after this. Come around when you have the time, and we’ll talk over the work together. It will make it easier for both of us, I’m sure.”

And Carpenter, surprised at such generosity, promised to do as Jim asked.