“I’m afraid he is. He has a secret preparation he takes every time he runs, and it makes him strong and swift. I want to find out what it is. I heard him tell another fellow that it was prepared from a prescription he has in his room. If I can get a look at that prescription long enough to remember it or copy it, I’ll be able to use the stuff on my runners. No one will ever know it. I’ll give you five dollars to let me have the passkey that will admit me to Merriwell’s room.” “Is this straight goods?” “Certainly.” “You may be seen getting into the room or coming out.” “I’m too blooming clever for that, Charley; but if I am seen, how can any one blame you?” “They’ll ask where you got the key.” “I’d never tell in a thousand years.” “Not even if you was arrested?” “No.” “You might be tried and sent to prison.” “But I’d never blow, Charley. Give me the key before some one comes and sees us together.” Still the boy hesitated. “Swear you won’t squeal, no matter what happens.” “I swear it.” “Give me the fiver.” Hollingsworth produced a five-dollar bill. “Give me the key.” Key and bill changed hands. “Room forty-three, you said?” whispered Hollingsworth. “That’s right. Be mighty careful. Look out for any of Merriwell’s crowd. They have rooms on that floor, and one or two of ’em are in.” “I’ll look out.” “The housekeeper may be snoopin’ round, too. Look out for her.” “All right.” “And gimme that key before you leave, if you can git a chance.” Hollingsworth lingered about the office a while, finally finding an opportunity to slip upstairs when he was not observed. He found Room No. 43 without trouble, and fortune seemed to favor him, for no one was in the corridor. He slipped the key into the lock and quickly opened the door. Having stepped into the room, he removed the key, transferred it to the other side of the lock, closed the door softly and turned the key. “There!” he muttered, with a breath of relief; “that was easy enough. Now if I can find that certificate!” Five minutes later, opening a long, leather pocketbook he had taken from Merry’s suit case, he removed some papers, and almost the first one examined caused him to utter an exclamation of delight. “Here it is!” he cried. It was a certificate of the Amateur Athletic Union of the United States, properly filled out, dated and signed, attesting that Frank Merriwell was for the year of date an accepted and registered member of said union. Hollingsworth’s eyes glittered and he laughed softly. “’Ow heasy it would be to destroy it!” he muttered, his excitement and triumph causing him to again abuse that much-tortured eighth letter. “But I ’ave a better plan—a much better plan! Oh! it makes me laugh jolly ’ard to think of it! I know I’ll roar my blooming ’ead off if ’e brings it with ’im to show the committee, without hever taking a look at it ’imself!”