A low, snarling laugh caused Hammerswell to start and turn his head. Chester Arlington was there, and he regarded the Maplewood manager with a singular look that caused the man to be seized by a strange feeling of uneasiness and apprehension. “Don’t think you have this game yet,” said Arlington. “No game is won until it’s ended. The best batters on Merriwell’s team are up now. Look out for a Garrison finish. It takes but one run to tie the score, and two will win the game.” “Get away from me, you crook!” snapped Hammerswell. “I don’t want you round me!” He gripped the bat and half lifted it in a threatening manner. “You’ll never frighten any one with that stick,” said Chester. “Put it down, Hammerswell. Don’t try any funny business with me.” “If you two are going to quarrel,” said Fernald, “I will just step aside.” “Oh, I’ll not quarrel with this treacherous Smart Aleck,” declared Hammerswell as Fernald walked away. “You’d better not,” said Chester in a low tone. “You’re wise in not quarreling with me. I know too much about you. Wait, Benton Hammerswell; your time is coming, and you will get what’s due you.” “I tell you to move on!” grated the enraged man. “I don’t like that kind of talk, and I won’t listen to it.” “You can’t help listening,” retorted Chester. “You know I am telling the truth when I say you are a scoundrel, a fraud, a cheat, a——” With a muttered oath Hammerswell lifted the bat. Chester did not shrink in the least. Looking the man straight in the eyes, he hastily said: “Strike if you dare! Add another murder to your crimes!” “Another murder?” whispered Hammerswell, aghast. “Yes, another murder. You see, I know what you’ve done. You see, I know what happened on High Bluff one night near the hour of twelve.” “Good heavens!” choked the astounded rascal as he nervelessly lowered the bat. “I know you are haunted by the memory of that crime,” persisted Chester, in a low tone. “Your face tells the story. You fear Luke Grimes. You fear the ghost of Hop Sullivan.” Three times Hammerswell tried to speak before he could command his voice. Then of a sudden, as if struck by a thought, he panted: “You—you were in my room last night! The window was open! Some one entered that room! Some one played the ghost! I don’t believe in ghosts. You were there!” “You’re right,” confessed Chester. “I was there, Hammerswell, and I gave you a fright you’ll not soon forget. How did I dare come there? Why, I had your pistol in my pocket. I wasn’t afraid of you. You missed the weapon, didn’t you? Well, I took it. I knew you were not armed. How did I know so much about what happened on High Bluff? I heard your talk with Luke Grimes. Oh, I’m not fool enough to tell the story without the backing of Grimes, but they’re looking for him, Hammerswell. He’s liable to be captured at any moment. When he’s taken, he’ll blow on you. Now, sir, I hope you enjoy the game.”