"If there's any sure way of doing Merriwell up, I'm in for it; but I give it to you straight that I am sick of trying to do him and having him come out on top. It's got to be a sure thing this time, or I don't touch it." Beyond a thin partition in a room next to the one occupied by the four plotters sat a man who had a cut and bruised face and a pair of swollen black eyes. This man had been drinking heavily. A bottle of whiskey and a glass sat on the little table before him. He was alone in the room. He had seemed to suddenly lose all interest in the whiskey, and he was leaning against the board partition with his ear close to a crack, intently listening to the talk of the four lads in the next room. The man had heard Frank Merriwell's name spoken, and that was the first thing to attract his attention to what the occupants of the next room were saying. "That's the fellow!" muttered the man, hoarsely. "He's the one what gave me these beautiful peepers and pretty mug! I'll give him something worse than this before long." Then he decided to listen. "Wonder if them chaps is his friends? I'll jest see what they're sayin' about him." It was not long before the man was able to hear enough to satisfy him that the lads in the next room were anything but friends of Frank Merriwell, and he listened with fresh eagerness. He heard Ditson come in with the waiter, and caught much of the conversation that followed. Then Ditson sat down, and the plotters lowered their voices. "That settles it!" exclaimed the man. "I'm goin' right in there and see if they don't want to take me inter the gang. Them college ducks will be jest the fellers to help me in gettin' back at Frank Merriwell." He got up, left the little room, and went around to the door of the other room. Without stopping to knock, he opened the door and walked in. "H'waryer," he saluted, as the four lads stared at him in amazement. "My name's Mike Hogan, and I want ter join in with ther push." "Get out of here, you bum!" cried Hartwick, fiercely. "You are intruding on a private party." "Hold hard, young feller!" returned the fellow who had given his name as Mike Hogan. "Don't call me a bum! I'm onto your curves, and there ain't no reason why you and me shouldn't be friends." "Friends!" exclaimed Hartwick--"friends! Well, I prefer to choose my friends." "And you didn't make much of a success when you chose a young gent here what is named Ditson. Keep yer seat!" "Press the button, Harlow, and we'll have this fellow thrown out!" came savagely from Hartwick's lips. "Wait a minute before you press the button," urged Mike Hogan. "Do you see this face?" "Yes." "It's a peach, now, ain't it?" "You can consider yourself lucky if it isn't worse than that when you get out of here, my man." "Don't 'my man' me, young feller! I don't like it! Do yer know who give me this face and these two beautiful eyes?" "No, and we----"