"But he doesn't bluff all the time," supplemented Harvey Dare. "I found out that he held cards occasionally, for I called him a few the last time he was around."
Frank laughed; it was his old, jolly laugh, suppressed somewhat. He seemed like himself once more, as Bart Hodge instantly noted. He had cast off the strain under which he had been for so long, and now Frank Merriwell, mischievous and full of fun, was on deck again.
But this did not quite please Hodge, who watched his roommate closely, his uneasiness growing as he saw how care-free Merriwell seemed. What had brought about such a change? Had Frank thrown his resolutions to the wind?
"I've got a supply of coffin-nails," said Snell, as he produced several packages of cigarettes. "Help yourselves, gentlemen. Pass them round."
Round they went, and when they reached Frank Merriwell he accepted one.
"I am going to be real dissipated to-night," he laughed, as he struck a match and "fired up." "You may have to carry me to my room on a shutter, for I actually am going to smoke!"
Leslie Gage and Wat Snell exchanged glances of satisfaction.
A black look came to Bart Hodge's face, and he half started up as Frank took the cigarette, acting as if he would utter a warning. Then he settled back in his seat, thinking:
"Let him smoke, if he wants to. One cigarette will do nobody harm."
But Hodge knew in his heart that it was not the smoking of one or a dozen cigarettes that was dangerous to Merriwell; it was the breaking of his resolutions—it was the feeling of abandon and recklessness that had seemed to seize upon him.
Not much time was lost in beginning the game, but now Bart insisted on a proper limit.
"What do you say, Merriwell?" asked George Harris. "What kind of a limit suits you?"
"Anything from five cents to the sky," was the laughing reply. "Fix it to suit yourselves."
Once more Gage and Snell exchanged glances.
Bart stuck for a moderate limit, but he finally agreed to make it a dollar, the ante being five cents.
"Vell, uf I had pad luck, I don'd last long at dot," said Hans. "I don'd haf more as four tollars und sefen cends."
"Merriwell won at the start the last time he was here, and he kept the luck straight through to the finish," observed Harvey Dare. "It isn't often such a thing occurs."
A few minutes later, as Harris beat Frank, the latter said:
"This game starts differently from the other, fellows. I have lost at the beginning, and to keep up the precedent I have established, I must lose all through it."
He said this smilingly, as if he really wished to lose.
As the cards were being dealt, Bart, who sat by his roommate's side, leaned toward Frank, and softly asked:
"What made you come, old man?"
"Couldn't keep away," was the reply.
"Well, be careful—keep watch of yourself."
"Not to-night, Bart. I am going to let loose on this occasion."
Frank played recklessly from the start, and fortune fluctuated with him, for he would forge ahead and then drop behind, but he was never much ahead, nor far behind. For all of his careless playing, he seemed to hang about even.
Leslie Gage was too shrewd to try to get at Frank on this occasion, for he wanted Merriwell to win again, so they would get a still firmer hold upon him.
Wat Snell lost steadily, soon beginning to growl, and keeping it up. Once, under cover of conversation the others were making, he leaned toward Gage and muttered:
"Merriwell is my hoodoo. I can't do a thing with him in the game."
"Keep cool," warned Leslie. "Never mind what happens this time. We'll get at him again."
Hans Dunnerwust managed to blunder along and keep in the game by sheer luck, for he did not play the cards for their face value at any time. Still he made enough to keep on his feet and not have to get out of the game.
"Vell!" Hans finally exclaimed, as he tried in vain to win, "uf I don'd do petter as dot, I vill suicide go und gommit bretty soon alretty."
"By the way, Hans," said Frank, "do you know that the fellow who used to have this room committed suicide here?"
"Shimminy Gristmas!" gurgled the Dutch boy. "You don'd say dot!"
"Yes, I do, and the room is said to be haunted by his spook, which cannot rest in its grave."
"Vell, dot vos nice! Oxcuse me while I haf a chill!"
At this moment a hollow groan seemed to come from beneath the chair on which Hans sat, and the Dutch lad gave a jump, getting on his feet quickly, and peering under the chair, his face growing pale, as he chattered:
"Vot vos dot, ain'd id?"
Some of the other boys were not a little alarmed, for all had heard it distinctly.
"It—it actually sounded like a groan!" said Wat Snell.
"That's what it did," agreed George Harris.
"But you know it couldn't have been anything of the sort," laughed Frank, "for you fellows do not believe in ghosts."
"Who—who—who said anything about ghosts?" stammered Snell.
At this moment another groan, louder and more dismal than the first, seemed to come from directly beneath the table.
There was a scrambling among the boys, as they hastened to get their legs from beneath that table.
"I don'd feel very vell aroundt der bit uf mein stomach," gasped Hans. "I pelief I vos going to be sick alretty yet."
One of the boys held the light, while they all looked under the table, but they did not find anything there.
"Now, that is singular," commented Harvey Dare. "If that wasn't a groan, I never heard one in my life."
"And a real ghostly groan at that!" said Leslie Gage.
"I never did take any stock in this rot about ghosts, but——"
"Beware, young man, how you mock at the spirits of the departed!"
The voice seemed to come from one of the alcove bedrooms, and it was of the sort to make the hair stand on the head of a superstitious person.
"Oh, dunder und blitzen!" panted Hans. "Dot vos a shook! Uf I don't ged avay oud uf here righd off, I peen gone grazy! I don'd vant any shook in mine!"
"It is some fellow playing a joke on us," said Harvey Dare, angrily. "Some one has concealed himself in there. Bring the light, fellows, and we will soon find out."
He started for the alcove, but no one seemed anxious to take the light and follow him. After a moment, however, Frank did so.
All through both alcoves Harvey searched, and his face was rather pale when he and Frank returned to the table.
"What did you find?" asked Wat Snell, thickly.
"Not a thing but dust," replied Harvey. "There hasn't been a living soul in either of those bedrooms since the room was closed after the suicide."
"Ha! ha! ha!" laughed the hollow voice. "You are right. They dare not come, but I am doomed to stay here till this building shall crumble and decay."
"Vell, you may sday till der cows come home!" gurgled Hans; "but I don'd peen caught in here any more bretty soon righd avay, you pet!" and he made a break for the door.
The others quickly extinguished the light, and followed him.
There would be no more gatherings in that room.