Читать книгу Frank Merriwell's Prosperity; or, Toil Has Its Reward онлайн

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“If I could get a peep through that!” he mentally exclaimed.

A moment later he was tip-toeing along the corridor, almost on the run. He had the key to his own room, and he quickly and silently unlocked the door and entered. Soon he came out, bearing a chair, and leaving the door of his room standing wide open.

“I may want to get back there in a hurry,” he muttered.

Reaching Merriwell’s room, he placed the chair before the door and quickly sprang upon it. Then, by standing on his toes, he was able to look through the transom glass.

What he saw did not give him satisfaction just then, for Bart was sitting at a little table, writing swiftly.

“Pshaw!” thought Vance. “He’s writing a letter—that’s all! He isn’t doing anything out of the way.”

The fellow was filled with disappointment. Still he continued to stand on the chair and watch the youth within the room.

After a time Bart finished his writing. He took out his watch and looked at it, muttering:

“I must hurry if I want to catch that train.”