“Wait a minute, Jack,” he said quickly. “I’ve got something to tell you.” “The deuce you have!” Kenny growled. “Who in thunder are you, anyhow?” For an instant Dick had forgotten the disguise. No wonder the quarter back didn’t know him! “It’s Merriwell,” he said, smiling. “Quick! Give me a towel and some water. I’ll get rid of this stuff while we talk. I’ve got my cold-cream jar in my pocket.” Pushing the bewildered Kenny before him, he entered the room and closed the door. “Hustle, boy!” he exclaimed. “A wet towel first, and then we’ll go at the other.” Still dazed, but under the influence of Dick’s dominating personality, Kenny brought the moistened towel, which Merriwell snatched from his hands. Already he had rubbed cold cream over his face. With the first vigorous rub off came the eyebrows and most of the paint. Kenny gasped as the familiar face of his friend appeared swiftly and strangely. Then Dick plunged into his story, for there was no time to lose. “This Clarence Carr,” he began rapidly; “you’ve been pretty chummy with him lately, haven’t you?” Kenny looked astonished. “Why, he’s been in to see me several——” “Exactly,” Dick cut in. “Talked football a lot, didn’t he? Said you were being badly used on the team, I’ll bet? Perhaps he said you should have been captain?” The quarter back’s jaw dropped at this volley of questions. A rush of color stained his face. “Why, how—how—did you——” “Never mind how I found out,” Dick flashed back. “Jack, he’s a crooked scoundrel! He’s been egging you on to buck against Tempest for the sole purpose of ruining the team and giving the game to Harvard.” The flush died out of Kenny’s face, leaving it pale and set. His eyes flashed indignantly. “How dare you say that, Merriwell?” he exclaimed angrily. “He couldn’t do such a thing. Why, his own brother went to Yale and played on the varsity!” “I know all that, but it’s true just the same,” Dick flung back. “Would you believe it if you knew he and a pal of his had put up over two thousand dollars on Harvard?” “But how could he?” expostulated the quarter back. “He’s crazy for us to win. He’s even——” “I know all that,” Merriwell returned swiftly; “but this very night—not ten minutes ago—I heard the truth from his very lips. He was talking over it with his pal in the bar of the New Haven House. I was there, made up this way. I had suspected him before. They didn’t know me, of course. The bets were all placed in New York. They’re no better than a couple of crooks. Listen!” Swiftly, a little brokenly, but quite clearly, he poured into Kenny’s ears the story of what he had discovered. The quarter back’s face was pale and his eyes horror-stricken when the brief recital was finished. For an instant he could not speak.