“What do you say, are you good for a hundred points?” asked Manners. “I’d enjoy beating the great champion at something.” “I beg to be excused this evening,” said Frank. “I didn’t come here for billiards or anything of that sort, but to meet these friends of mine.” Ridgely laughed and pulled at Manners’ arm. “No go, Mart,” he said. “Better look for some one fast enough to make it interesting.” Hodge was angered at this insolence and felt like expressing himself, but Maurice Spaulding picked it up. “This club is supposed to be for gentlemen!” he exclaimed. “It’s supposed to be,” drawled Ridgely; “but I see the rules are not enforced.” “Cad!” growled Carroll. “Oh, take a little joshing!” cried Manners. “The great Merriwell, who is champion at everything, ought to stand a little fun. What’s the matter?” “I hear he’s a gone-by,” grinned Ridgely. “He’s been playing baseball with schoolboys of late and trying to keep up his reputation that way.” It seemed that Spaulding would strike the insolent fellow, but Frank caught Maurice’s arm. “Never mind him,” he said. “I’m always stirring up soreheads. I don’t know what he has against me, and I care less.” The entire party seemed highly incensed by the words and behavior of Manners and Ridgely, but the latter continued to insist that it was nothing but a joke. “I’d back Merriwell myself,” he averred. “That is, I’d back him in his own field. I wouldn’t put him up against professionals. It would be folly to back him against Jeffries in the ring.” “Don’t mind him,” said Harriman. “Some one will settle him for insulting guests of the club.” “But I haven’t insulted any one,” persisted Ridgely. “Some silly persons might put an amateur against a professional. What would Merriwell or any other amateur do against a professional wrestler like Americus?” “They say Americus is going to show up Hashi, the jujutsu chap, to-morrow night,” said Manners. “What’s that?” exclaimed the voice of a newcomer. “Well, I’ll bet five hundred dollars that Americus or any other man in Baltimore can’t get the best of my friend Hashi. If there is any one here who thinks he can handle Hashi—well, here’s Hashi to give him the chance.” The speaker was Fred Fillmore, and he was accompanied by the Japanese master of jujutsu. “’Ware, Merry!” hissed Hodge, quick as a flash. Instinctively he knew there was something in the air. He felt it like an electric shock. Frank did not need the warning. He, too, felt a sudden tightening of his nerves. Fillmore swaggered into the room. His face was flushed and his manner seemed to indicate that he had been drinking heavily. The Jap who followed him was smiling serenely. A number of those present had seen Hashi’s performance at the theatre, and they recognized him instantly. The billiard players paused and regarded him with interest. The others were no less interested.