“We’ve never met, though I’ve tried to meet you a number of times,” he laughed. “But I’ve seen you more than once. I can’t think why I didn’t recognize you at once. I suppose it’s because I’ve never had a really good, close look at you before. It has always been a long-distance glimpse from the bleachers or the grand stand out on the athletic field, and you know how football paraphernalia disguises a fellow. “By Jove! I’m glad I was Johnny-on-the-spot just now, even if I did nearly knock you down. My name is Austin Demarest, and I certainly am glad to meet you.” He held out a slim, brown hand with such an air of pleasure and camaraderie that Merriwell could not help a feeling of satisfaction as he clasped it in his own. “And I you, Mr. Demarest,” he returned quickly. “I have a notion that I could like you a lot if I ever had a chance. Perhaps that sounds rather conceited, though.” “Sort of in the nature of self-praise, eh?” chuckled Demarest. “It would be tough if a fellow couldn’t get along pretty well with himself, wouldn’t it?” Unconsciously they had turned and were walking slowly along Chapel Street. Each one seemed unable to refrain from throwing occasional swift glances at the other, as if to satisfy himself that the odd resemblance was really a concrete fact and not some chance figment of the imagination. Presently their eyes met and both burst out laughing. “It doesn’t seem right,” chuckled Demarest. “I can’t get used to looking at you as if I were gazing at a mirror.” “Nor I,” Merriwell agreed. “What sport we could have if you were only in the university. I can conjure up all sorts of attractive possibilities.” “Such as substitution in lecture rooms?” suggested Demarest slyly. “Not so much that as the fun we could have outside,” Dick answered. “By the way, what was the reason you wanted to meet me so much?” Demarest did not answer at once. His face clouded and the laughter died out of his eyes. It was as if the question had recalled to his mind something disagreeable which had, for the moment, been forgotten. Twice he glanced hesitatingly at Merriwell in a troubled, doubtful sort of way as one who does not know quite what course to pursue. “It’s a rather long story,” he said, at length; “and yet I think I’d like to tell it, if you have time to listen. Have you got anything on for a couple of hours? Couldn’t you come in and lunch with me?” He made a quick gesture toward the New Haven House, at the entrance to which they had stopped an instant before. “Why, yes,” Dick returned readily, “I’ll be very glad to. I was on my way to the dining hall, but this will be much better.” Demarest’s face cleared. “Good,” he said tersely. “I’m in the deuce of a hole, and perhaps you can help me out of it. Even if you can’t, there’s always a certain satisfaction in pouring one’s woes into a sympathetic ear.” Dick smiled as they entered the hotel lobby and walked toward the cloakroom.