FRANK FINDS HIMSELF PURSUED.
Frank Merriwell had been detained in New York far longer than he
intended when he left New Haven, and even now he felt a reluctance to go
back, though it seemed that an unseen power was drawing him.
He had been able to rescue Inza from great peril, he had protected her
father from probable arrest, had been in time to hold back Jack Diamond
from a reckless plunge into dissipation caused by the coldness of Juliet
Reynolds, and had saved young Collins, a stranger, from disgrace and
suicide.
Now it seemed that his mission in New York must be completed. Now he
could return to college for the final months he was to spend there. He
thought of his old home that had been lost to him through the folly of
his guardian, Professor Scotch, and he was seized by a desire to revisit
it.
“If I had a little more time, I’d do so,” he decided. “But I can’t do it
now. I wonder who owns the old place. My money is gone, and I could not
buy it back now.”
Merriwell had not yet been able to communicate with his father.
“He could buy back the old place,” thought Merry, “and he would do so if
I asked him. It would be a fine home for us, and we both feel the need
of a home. I’ll suggest the idea to him.”
These thoughts of home brought strange fancies to him. He remembered
that he had once dreamed of sitting at his own fireside, with another
who was to be his companion for life. He had looked up from the paper he
was reading, and in his vision, his dream, he had gazed at the sweet
face of his wife, the face of———— Was it Elsie, or Inza?
But now those dreams were to be his no more! Inza had decided that Merry
was not for her, and she had turned to the handsome, fair-haired
freshman giant, Dick Starbright. Elsie, fully believing that Frank cared
more for Inza than for her, had found in Bart Hodge a passionate
admirer. But not even Bart’s words of love had drawn a confession from
her lips, and she would only say that she had resolved never to marry.
But Frank remained true to his friendship for these girls. Inza, proud,
beautiful, brave, was still very dear to him, and he was ready to do
anything in his power for her. Elsie—she still held a corner in his
heart, and her blue eyes haunted his dreams.
Elsie was far away in Florida, but Inza, with her father, was now in
Brooklyn.
“I must see her once more before I return to college,” decided Merry.
And thus it happened that, late that afternoon, he took a Broadway car,
getting off at City Hall Park, and crossed to the entrance to the
Bridge.
Merry paused at the loop where the cars from Brooklyn swing in fast and
thick during the rush-hours. He was looking for a certain car as he
stood there near the many tracks. Gongs were clanging, newsboys
shouting, people rushing hither and thither, and there was more or less
confusion all about. Above, the bridge-cars rumbled and the Third Avenue
elevated added to the uproar.
Of a sudden, as Frank stood there, somebody gave him a savage thrust.
Clang! clang! clang! sounded the gong of a car that was swinging round
the loop.
There was a shriek from a woman who saw Frank hurled fairly in front of
the car. The motorman tried to stop the car as quickly as possible, but
he would have been too late had Merry fallen helpless in front of the
trucks.
Frank had been flung forward headlong, with his right side toward the
track. His hands went down, but they flung him back to his feet as if he
had been made of wire springs. The car was right upon him, but like a
flash he made a long leap that took him fairly beyond the track and out
of the way.
“Somebody tried to do me!” he thought, as he darted round the rear end
of the car, to discover who had pushed him.
“Where is the man?” he cried, as he dashed back to the spot where he had
stood.
“There!” cried the woman who had uttered the shriek, pointing. “There he
goes!”
A man was sprinting across the tracks, darting between the moving cars,
flinging people aside when they blocked his path.
Merry sprang after the fellow, who vanished behind a car. A policeman
clutched and held Frank, demanding:
“Pwhat are yez doin’, man? Be ye crazy? Shtand still, or, begorra, Oi’ll
fan yez wid me shtick!”
It was useless to try to explain. By the time Merry had made the officer
understand, the murderous wretch was safely out of the way.
Only a glimpse had Frank obtained of the fleeing figure of his would-be
murderer, but he was satisfied that it must be the man who had assaulted
him on Broadway.
“He must be a revengeful dog,” thought Merry. “He came near getting me
under those wheels, too. I’ll have to be on my guard. If he is so
determined, he’ll not be satisfied to let it drop now.”
Merry took a car for Brooklyn, but he might have spared himself the
trouble, for, thinking he had already returned to New Haven, Inza and
her father had departed without communicating with him.
The failure to see Inza proved a severe disappointment to Merry, and he
resolved to walk off the feeling that had attacked him. Therefore,
instead of taking a car, he walked to the Bridge.
It was beginning to get dark, and lights were gleaming from the
thousands of windows in the tall buildings across the river when Merry
sauntered out on to the promenade.
The wind was not strong enough to be disagreeable, but he felt the cold
out there on the Bridge, and the crisp air gave him a sensation of
pleasure and briskness which he desired.
All at once he remembered that the last time he had walked on this
bridge Elsie was with him, and she had saved him from being flung over
in front of a car by her bravery in fighting the men who had set upon
him. Thoughts of this thrilled him through and through.
“Dear little Elsie!” he murmured, pausing and looking about. “I would
you were with me now! You do not know it, but you are just as brave as
the bravest. There are times when you shrink from danger, appalled by
the thought of it, but always, at the supreme moment, your bravery
overcomes your timidness and you are bold as a lioness at bay.”
This was true, and this Frank knew was the highest type of courage. The
person who never feels fear is brave, but his bravery is not nearly as
praiseworthy as that of the one who is frightened, but overcomes his
fears by force of will. The first has mere physical courage, but the
second is almost certain to possess both moral and physical courage.
Elsie was of the latter class. That she was timid at times cannot be
denied, and that she shrank from danger must be confessed; but it is
just as true that she could conquer her timidity and shrinking, and
compel herself to face peril with steady nerves. There must be, however,
some powerful cause to lead her to this point.
Frank paused near the spot where the encounter with the men had taken
place. As he did so, he became convinced that a muffled figure was
following him. This muffled figure had turned to the other side of the
promenade.
All at once, quick as a flash, Merry whirled and darted across, his hand
falling on the man’s shoulder.
“I beg your pardon,” he said, “but can you tell me———— Hello! I thought
so!”
For he had obtained a fair look at the man’s face, and he saw it was
that of his assailant on Broadway.
This person glared at Frank, hatred filling his eyes.
“So you are following me about!” said Merriwell resentfully. “Well, it’s
becoming rather tiresome. Bought an overcoat since chasing me over to
Brooklyn, I see. I suppose you fancied that would be disguise enough to
fool me. Now, wait a minute; I have a question to ask you. What the
dickens do you want of me?”
“I want—your life!” was the panting retort. “And I mean to have it!”
Then the pursuer grappled with Merry.
Once before Frank had fought for his life near that spot, but then he
had been attacked by two men. Both of those men, however, had been
scarcely less dangerous than this one, who fought with fury and
possessed astonishing strength.
“Steady, fellow!” cried Frank, trying to hold the man off. “Are you a
raving maniac? Why do you wish to kill me?”
“You know!”
“I do not know.”
“For her sake!”
“That’s where you’re daffy,” declared Merry, getting a hold that enabled
him to baffle the efforts of the man for a time. “Why should you attack
me for her sake?”
“Because you deserve death!”
Frank was not obtaining much light, and he grew disgusted and angry with
the man.
“I believe you’re a raving maniac!” he exclaimed. “Who is this girl,
anyhow?”
“You know.”
“I know her face, but I have forgotten her name.”
“Bah! It will do you no good to lie!”
The fellow did his best to hurl Merry against the iron rail and pin him
there.
“Look here, man,” said Frank, exasperated, “I want you to tell me that
girl’s name. If you do that, I shall be satisfied.”
“She may have given you a false name. If so, all the better for her.
Your stories and your sneers about her may not do her so much harm.”
Now Merry was more than ever satisfied that he had a maniac to deal
with, and he kept constantly on his guard for any sudden move.
“Man alive!” he said, “I’ve never told any stories about the girl. I’ve
never even known her well enough to sneer about her!”
“It’ll do you no good to lie now!” panted the man. “You are one of them!
She told me about them? She met them in Boston, and they all wanted to
make love to her. Her father was an old fool to let her go to Boston,
but she would have her way and go. To take music-lessons, she said; but
I know she took other lessons there. You were one of her instructors,
and you whispered lying words of love to her. For those words you shall
pay!”
With a quick wrench he had Frank against the rail, but Merry recovered
and held him off, even though the man’s muscles were magnificent.
Fortunately, the fellow was baffled by the muffling folds of the great
coat which he wore, and for that reason Frank was able to handle him
easier.
“Where does she live?” asked Merry; but the question seemed to enrage
his assailant more than ever.
Passing pedestrians had been attracted by the struggling men, but not
one of them offered to interfere. Now, however, arose the cry:
“Here comes a Bridge cop!”
“Good!” said Merry, with satisfaction. “I’ll turn this gentleman over to
him.”
Immediately ceasing his attack on Frank, the fellow made a twisting
wrench and broke away. But when he turned to run toward the end of the
Bridge he saw a uniformed officer coming toward him on the jump. Then he
whirled back, but Frank Merriwell blocked his path.
In sudden desperation, determined not to be captured, the man leaped
upon the parapet and prepared to spring down to the track along which
the trolley-cars passed below.
Several who witnessed this desperate act also saw a car coming right at
hand, and shouted for him not to jump, thinking he would fall directly
before it.
Frank sprang forward, to clutch the man’s long coat, but, with a cry of
defiance that sounded almost maniacal the fellow leaped. He struck
fairly on the top of the passing car, which carried him away, crouching
there and shaking his fist at Frank.
“A madman beyond a doubt!” Frank exclaimed.
The fellow had escaped, for the officer would not do anything until he
had questioned Frank and learned the meaning of what had happened. By
that time it was too late.
When Merry finally resumed his walk over the Bridge his mind was in a
state of wonderment. He was much dissatisfied with himself for
permitting the man to escape, but he had fancied the fellow fairly
penned between himself and the officer, never anticipating the desperate
expedient to which the stranger resorted.
Merriwell had again seen the face of the man fairly, and more than
before was he certain he had not been acquainted with the fellow in the
past. Of course, man and girl were connected somehow, and from the wild
words of the desperate stranger Frank inferred that he was in love with
her.
That the man also believed Merriwell had somehow done the girl an injury
was also certain. He had spoken of Boston, and that set Merry to
thinking of the girls he had known there, but try as he might, he could
not remember that he had ever met this one there.
“This business is becoming altogether too perplexing,” he confessed to
himself, as he swung along on his way over the great bridge. “If I had
plenty of time, I might make an attempt to solve it, but I doubt if I’d
feel repaid for my pains if I did so. I must go back to New Haven
to-morrow. Inza has left, and there is no real reason why I should
linger longer. Still, it is a nuisance to have to leave before I find
out the name of that girl and just why the man is so anxious to kill me.
If I had held him, the truth might have been forced from him.”
He was not molested again during the walk, and he felt that adventures
enough for one day had befallen him.
Leaving the Bridge at the New York end, he crossed to Broadway, and was
on the point of taking a car, crowded though it was, when a hansom cab
without a fare came along. He hailed it, and a minute later he was
seated inside, jolting northward.
North-bound cars were packed, and the sidewalks were lined with
pedestrians hurrying homeward from their places of business. The cool
air fanned Frank’s glowing face and filled his lungs in a grateful way.
This was New York, and to himself Merry confessed that it was the place
of places. He had traveled much, had visited hundreds of cities in both
hemispheres, had been pleased and fascinated by many other places, but
there was something about this great city that attracted him more than
any and all others combined. It was a city of rush and roar, of toil and
tumult, of poverty and wealth, of squallor and extravagance; it was not
a place of peace and gentle pleasures, such as old men enjoy; but in
every way it was such a city as fascinated the strong and determined
youth who was confident of his prowess and not afraid to meet a hundred
rivals all striving for the very goal he sought and desired.
Frank knew this great city had swamped and overwhelmed thousands of
ambitious lads who came rushing to it fresh from the country, spurred by
ambition and lured by visions of triumphs and glories. He knew there was
that in New York which must tempt the weak and wavering, and lead them
to disappointment and failure. But he also knew that the steadfast and
bold, who possessed ability above the average of their fellow men, could
here find opportunities rarely met with elsewhere. If they grasped the
opportunity at the right moment, held fast without faltering or doubting
themselves for a moment, the reward they longed for must be theirs in
the end.
Frank thought of the time soon coming when he would have to face the
world and make his way in some business or profession, for, even though
his father was a rich man, he was not the kind of youth to be content to
live on inherited wealth and be a nobody in the great workaday world.
Thinking thus, the trip up Broadway seemed short indeed. Twenty-third
Street was congested where Fifth Avenue and Broadway cross, but the
hansom-driver plunged into the mass without hesitation. As a rule,
hansom-drivers are most skilled in working their ways through such jams,
and there might have been no trouble in this instance but that the horse
of another cab, passing in the opposite direction, suddenly bolted, and
there was a collision.
In a twinkling, the cab containing Merriwell was overturned, and Frank
was thrown out. He struck so heavily that he was stunned, though he knew
men picked him up and carried him to the sidewalk, where they put him
down.
Then he heard a cry, felt his head lifted, and, as through a dreamy
haze, he saw a beautiful face bending over him—the face of the
mysterious girl.
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