FRANK OFFERS HIS HAND.
It seemed that the crazy student had shot Frank Merriwell straight
through the heart. But Merry did not fall. Instead, he grappled
with Defarge, seized the revolver in his hand, and flung him back
against the wall.
Then Skelding rushed in, and Frank must have thought Gene there
to attack him also. However, Skelding also grappled with Defarge,
holding him helpless while Merry wrested away the revolver.
The murderous student fought like a fiend. No cries came from his
lips, but the insane light glared from his eyes, and he frothed at
the mouth.
“Hold him steady,” he said to Skelding. “Just give me a moment with
him.”
For in that furious struggle Defarge seemed to have superhuman
strength, and he caused them both to exert themselves to their
utmost to subdue him.
“Look at me, Defarge!” commanded Frank. “Look me straight in the
eyes!”
“No!” muttered the furious fellow. “I will not!”
He tried to keep his eyes turned away.
“Look at me!” commanded Merriwell again.
“No!”
“Look at me!”
He could not resist. Slowly he turned his eyes on those of Frank.
Skelding looked on in breathless, wondering silence. He saw that a
great struggle was taking place between these two, and he knew well
enough who would be the victor.
The fierceness died out of the face and eyes of the French youth.
His power of resistance faded and diminished. His contorted
features relaxed, and a sleepy expression came over his eyes that
had been so wild and fierce. Then he stood there quietly, making no
move.
“Let him go, Skelding,” said Merriwell, in a calm tone.
Gene stepped back, but held himself ready in case Bertrand broke
out again. Merry had taken his hands from the fellow. Now he
pointed to a chair, saying:
“Sit down there!”
Seeming unable to offer any resistance, the fellow obeyed as meekly
as a mastered dog. Then Frank seemed to turn some attention to
himself. His face showed wonderment, as if he were not a little
bewildered.
“The fellow fired at me with the muzzle of that revolver less
than a foot from my heart,” he said, “yet I felt no touch of the
bullet. I do not quite understand it.”
He looked at Skelding inquiringly. It was plain that Frank
suspected Gene, and he was on the alert. He must have wondered that
Skelding followed Defarge closely in the rush into that room, and
not even Gene’s readiness in aiding Merriwell to master the crazy
student explained his action.
It is probable that Frank half-suspected a plot between Defarge
and Skelding that had somehow miscarried. In case Defarge failed
in his attempt, Skelding was to be on hand for some purpose. Still
this did not explain why Gene had been so willing to grapple with
Defarge and hold him while Merry subdued the fellow with the power
of his eyes.
Skelding looked at the revolver and then at Merriwell, who was
watching him closely.
“It is loaded with blank cartridges,” Gene said.
Frank picked it up and examined it. He saw that Skelding told the
truth.
Some students who had been startled by the shot now came to Frank’s
door in search of the place from whence the sound had issued.
Merriwell blocked the door so that they could not see into the
room, laughing as he said:
“Accidents will happen, you know; but it’s nothing serious. The
revolver was loaded with a blank, and so no one would have been
hurt, even if it had been pointed at somebody.”
In this manner, without telling them a falsehood, he gave them the
impression that the weapon had been discharged while it was being
carelessly handled, and they departed satisfied, although some of
them wondered not a little that Frank Merriwell should handle a
revolver in a careless manner.
Frank closed the door and turned back, the revolver in his hand.
Defarge was sitting quietly on the chair, while Skelding was
standing near.
“You did that very nicely, Merriwell; but I don’t see why you
sheltered us.”
“Sheltered you?” cried Frank. “Why, what did you have to do with
it? You helped me hold him.”
“Because I knew he was mad. I am his friend.”
“I have never fancied you were my friend, Skelding.”
“Yet you did not tell the truth to those fellows. Even though
Defarge tried to kill you, you did not tell the truth.”
“Defarge did not know what he was doing. I feel sure of that, for
I saw madness in his face and eyes.”
Skelding nodded.
“You are right. He was mad, driven so by disappointment and by the
devil’s drink he has been taking of late. It was a fearful blow to
him, Merriwell, when he failed to make ‘Bones.’ I do not believe
you unjustly used your influence against him; perhaps you were
justified in your heart in using your influence thus. But he felt
that you were the cause of his failure. He brooded over it. He has
been drinking absinth, and it has made him a maniac.”
“I am sorry for him,” declared Frank sincerely. “He has always been
ready to do me any and every possible injury, and yet I am sorry to
see any man in such shape. Even though he might have wished to kill
me, he would not have tried to do it this way had he been in his
right mind. He would have known it meant hanging for him, and that
would have restrained him.”
Skelding nodded.
“That is true.”
“But he may not have meant to do me harm. The pistol was loaded
with blanks. It may have been his intention to frighten me.”
Frank was watching Gene closely. It was Skelding’s first impulse to
state that this was the fact, but it seemed to him that Merriwell’s
eyes could look straight into his heart and detect if he spoke the
truth; so his impulse to try to shelter Defarge in such a manner
quickly left him, and he said:
“The revolver was loaded with ball cartridges originally. Defarge
did not know they had been changed for blanks.”
“They were changed?”
“If they had not been you would be a dead man now, Frank Merriwell.”
“Tell me how it happened, Skelding.”
Gene glanced toward Defarge, as if he did not like to talk of it
there.
“Look at him,” said Merry. “He is asleep. See--his eyes are closing
now.”
He stretched out his hand toward Defarge as he spoke, and the eyes
of the mad student drooped and closed, while he appeared to be fast
asleep. Skelding was awed beyond measure.
“You may speak now,” said Frank. “He will not hear what you say.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
Skelding had seen Defarge become quiet and docile beneath the
steady gaze of Merriwell’s eyes, and he now understood that Frank
had some wonderful power over the fellow.
“Sit down, Skelding,” Merriwell invited, motioning toward a chair.
“I shall lock the door to keep intruders away.”
He did so, and found Skelding seated. Merry came and sat down near,
saying:
“Perhaps you will be willing to tell me the whole story. You say
Defarge blames me because he failed in his society ambitions? Is
that right?”
Merry had not spoken of “Bones.” A member of that society never
discusses his society outside the secret rooms of the order.
“That is right. Up to the last minute he believed he was sure of
going to ‘Bones.’ It drove him daffy when the fifteenth man was
chosen and he found himself ignored. He had been drinking for some
time, and absinth has obtained its hold on him. Since that he has
taken quantities of the stuff, and you see what the result is.”
“I see,” nodded Frank. “Poor chap! I have a hypnotic influence over
him, Skelding, and that was how I was able to conquer him as you
see. I never knew I possessed such power till one night a long time
ago when, then crazed by drink, he tried to strike me in the back
with a knife. I held him helpless and looked deep into his eyes,
willing that he should obey me. He did so, and I found I had power
to make him do as I chose. But I do not believe that any man has
a right under normal circumstances to exercise such a power over
another, and I removed the influence from him.
“For a long time I fancied I would never have further trouble with
him, and I even hoped that, without another clash, I might make him
friendly toward me. It would have given me satisfaction at one time
had this resulted. But when I came back to Yale this year I found
all the old bitterness in his heart had awakened, and he tried to
injure me once more. Then I willed that he should be unable to harm
me as long as I kept my power over him. Once more, however, I
released him. It must have been since then that he took to drinking
absinth.”
“Something must be done to save him, Merriwell, or he will be
lodged in a madhouse within a week. But I did not think; perhaps
you mean to have him punished for making an attack on your life?
Your patience with him must be exhausted.”
“I try to hold my patience with a man just as long as I believe
there is any hope for him. But I must confess that Defarge’s case
looks hopeless. You have not told me, Skelding, how it happened
that the cartridges in his revolver were changed. Who changed them?”
“I did.”
“You?”
“Yes.”
“When?”
“In his room a short time ago. I called there and found him loading
the weapon. From what he said I knew he meant to try to shoot you.
He went out to the room of another fellow to get a drink. The
revolver lay on the table. Beside the box of ball cartridges was a
box of blanks. While he was gone I exchanged the ball cartridges
for the blanks.”
“And saved my life by doing it. Skelding, you have been my enemy,
but by this one act you have wiped out all the past. I have
thought pretty hard things of you, but now I am willing to forget
everything. Skelding, we may not become friends, but we can shake
hands.”
He held out his hand to Skelding. Gene looked at it a moment, and
then he shook his head.
“No, Merriwell,” he said, making no show of feeling, although he
experienced some, “I’ll not shake hands with you.”
Frank looked disappointed. He had not expected this, and a slight
flush came to his handsome face. Skelding saw he had touched
Merriwell’s pride, and he hastened to add:
“It’s because I am not worthy to shake your hand, Merriwell, that I
decline; not because there is any of the old hatred in my heart. I
think that is gone. I’ve been a pretty mean fellow, and I know it.
For a long time I kept my eyes closed to the fact, but they have
been opened at last.”
Frank wondered if the man was sincere. If so, there was even more
to Skelding than he had fancied.
“But you saved my life,” said Merriwell.
“How do you know it was for that I did it?”
“Why----”
“Perhaps it was to save my friend from being hanged. Now you can
see it in a different light, Merriwell. Never mind whether it was
for your sake or for Defarge’s that I changed those cartridges. I
did save your life, and I am going to ask a favor of you.”
“What is it?”
“Will you grant it?”
“It is the foolish man who makes a promise before he knows what he
is promising.”
“It’s not for my sake, but for Defarge’s. He is the only friend I
have left.”
“The only one?”
“Yes.”
“Why, there are Chickering and his friends.”
“They are no longer friends of mine.”
“How is that?”
“I quit them to-night, Merriwell. I have sickened of them. I do
not wish to pose as better than I am, but I don’t think I ever
really belonged to that gang. I fell in with them and got to going
round with them. To confess the truth, the reason why I stuck to
them was because they hated you. I hated you, also, but not for
the same cause that inspired their hate. I hated you because I was
jealous of you; I confess it. They hated you because you would have
nothing to do with men of their class. To-night, in Chickering’s
room, I gave the whole bunch a little game of talk that set them
gasping. I told them just what I thought of them all and that I
wanted to never have anything more to do with them. You may doubt
it, Merriwell, but I am done with all of them for all time.”
“More than ever I feel like offering you my hand,” exclaimed Frank
sincerely. “I tell you now, Skelding, that I have absolutely no
use for the Chickering crowd. My friends have accused me of being
altogether too lenient with my enemies; but I think I could not be
lenient with those fellows. My contempt for them is too great.”
“I don’t wonder,” nodded Gene. “They have no friends among the
real men here. They are outcasts. Unfortunately for me, I was fool
enough to get their brand on me, and I know I’ll never be able to
pull away from it while I am in Yale.”
“You can try,” said Frank encouragingly; “although a man does find
it mighty hard to live down a bad reputation, and for that very
reason may get discouraged. It is true heroism to keep trying,
however. The fellow who has had a bad name must feel that he is to
blame for it himself, and he should not be disheartened if every
one seems to doubt him when he is doing his best to be straight.
Persistence wins at everything.”
Gene’s face began to take on an expression of eagerness.
“Do you really suppose there is a chance for me?” he asked. “How
can I make friends that are worth being called friends? The
Chickering odium will stick to me.”
“Show that you have quit them for all time, but make no talk about
it. If you go round telling people you are done with them, you’ll
find you’ll not get much credit. If you show that you are too
eager to make the right sort of friends, you may only succeed in
arousing suspicion and defeating yourself.”
Skelding felt that this was good advice.
“But we’re forgetting Defarge,” he said. “It’s for him I want you
to promise to do something. I know there is no reason why you
should lift your hand for a man like him, but you may be able to
save him from going to the madhouse.”
“How?”
“Your influence--your power. You understand what I mean?”
“I think I do. I am willing to try.”
“He must be kept at any cost from drinking absinth. That is the
only thing that can save him. You can prevent him from taking the
stuff and you are the only one.”
“I understand what you mean. I must command him to let it alone.”
“That’s it, that’s it!”
“And that is all the favor you ask of me?”
“Yes.”
“You are modest, Skelding. For your sake, I’ll try to save him. I
do not believe there is much good in him, but madness is a terrible
thing, and I do not wish to think of my worst enemy as a lunatic
behind iron bars.”
Skelding was satisfied.
Merriwell rose and moved his chair till it was directly in front
of the high-backed chair on which Defarge was sitting. Then he sat
down there, cautioning Gene to be silent and not interrupt. He next
reached out his hand and touched the slumberer on the forehead,
saying gently:
“Wake up, Defarge!”
Bertrand opened his eyes.
“I wish you to attend closely to what I tell you,” said Frank. “Do
you understand?”
In a mechanical manner Defarge said: “Yes.”
“In the future, Defarge, you cannot drink absinth in any form. The
smell of absinth shall make you faint or sick. If you lift to your
lips a glass containing the stuff, your fingers shall be unable to
hold the glass, and it shall fall from your hand before you can
drink. Do you understand?”
“Yes,” said Defarge, in the same mechanical manner.
“Further, for the space of one week, you shall be unable to do
anything to injure me, Frank Merriwell.”
“Why only for a week?” whispered Skelding. “Why not make it
forever?”
But it was Frank’s desire to know if in a week’s time this fellow
would be rid of his evil and murderous passions, or if they would
still possess him in full force.
“That is all,” said Merriwell. “When I clap my hands you will be
at liberty again, but you must go straight to your room, undress,
and go to bed. You will have a good night’s sleep, which will calm
your nerves.”
Then Frank suddenly clapped his hands, and Bertrand jumped as if he
had been shot. He started to his feet, staring round wildly, his
aspect being one of bewilderment and fear.
“What has happened?” he huskily asked. “Did I shoot Merriwell?”
“Not much,” said Frank, who was standing now. “As you see, I am all
right. You can’t harm me, Defarge.”
The fellow stared at Merry a moment, then shrank back, lifting his
hand.
“Those eyes!” he cried. “It’s no use. I cannot get away from them!
Oh, curse those eyes!”
Then, with a shudder, he turned and walked toward the door. Frank
was there in advance, opening it for him and letting him out.
Skelding made a move as if to accompany Bertrand, but Merry said,
in a quiet tone:
“There is no need of it. He will go to his room and go to bed. Let
him alone to-night.”
So Bertrand was permitted to depart.
“It’s wonderful!” muttered Skelding, in awe. “I understand now,
Merriwell, how it is that you have such power over everybody.”
“No, you do not,” declared Frank; “for the power you have witnessed
in demonstration to-night is something I seldom use. Only in
desperate emergencies do I call it to my command. I hope I may
never have to use it again.”
“If you save Defarge it will be a wonderful thing. I am going,
Merriwell. Good night.”
“Good night, Skelding. Here is the revolver belonging to Defarge.
Take it away. I don’t want the thing.”
Skelding took it. He hesitated a moment, tempted to offer in turn
his hand to Merriwell, but did not do so. Again saying good night,
he went out.
The experiences of that night would never be forgotten by Skelding.
At last he understood the full extent of his past folly in trying
to down a man of such amazing magnetic and mesmeric influence, and
he thanked his lucky stars that Merriwell had not been a revengeful
foe.