IN THE POWER OF HIS ENEMY.
One eventful day Frank came alone to the theater for the purpose of
getting something out of one of his trunks.
Entering by the stage door, he went up the stairs and onto the stage,
which was dark, behind the drop curtain. He discovered a man lifting
from the easel on which it had rested the large mirror which was used
in the "Educated Fly" trick.
"Drop that!" shouted Frank.
"All right!"
The man promptly dropped the mirror at Frank's cry, smashing it into a
thousand pieces!
"Scoundrel!"
Frank was aroused.
"Back!"
The unknown caught up a heavy Indian club, one of a set used by Merry
each night in his exhibition of fancy club swinging. The club was
raised aloft.
"Back, or I'll brain you!"
"Drop that!"
"On your head, if I do!"
The fellow made a threatening swing with the club. Frank ducked, dodged
aside, leaped forward, caught his arm, grappled with him.
Now they were face to face, so close together that Merry could
distinguish the features of the prowler.
"Sport Harris!" he shouted, astonished by the discovery.
"Yes!" snarled the other, trying to wrench his hand free.
"You here?"
"You bet!"
"What for?"
"Business."
"Deviltry, more likely! How did you get in here?"
"No matter."
"Well, you'll pay dearly for that mirror!"
"You'll never make me pay for it, you can gamble on that!"
Now Harris made a furious struggle to break away, but Frank forced him
back against some scenery and pinned him there.
"It's no use, you rascal!" came from Merry's lips. "You are caught this
time, and you won't get away."
"Don't be so sure," panted Frank's enemy. "I have given you the slip
more than once, and now----"
He uttered a strange cry, and, a moment later, Merriwell realized there
was danger behind him; but he was prevented from turning, and, all at
once, a pair of small, strong hands encircled his throat, the fingers
crushing into the flesh.
Frank was in a bad scrape, as he instantly understood. Harris was not
alone, and his companion had caught Merry unawares.
"Choke him! choke him!" hissed Sport, with a savage laugh of
satisfaction. "Now we've got him!"
Frank twisted and squirmed. For some seconds a furious struggle took
place on that stage, but Harris managed to keep Merriwell from breaking
the choking grip of the unknown, and those small, strong hands were
crushing the life and energy out of the young magician.
"Oh, we've got you!" exulted Frank's old Yale enemy. "You can't do it,
Merriwell! You came here just in time to run your head into this trap!"
Frank could make no reply, for his tongue was protruding from his
mouth. In his ears there was a roaring sound, and colored lights seemed
bursting and changing before his eyes.
Frank knew the venom of Harris--knew the fellow was a brute who would
hesitate at nothing to satisfy his evil desire for revenge. Alone he
could have handled the young ruffian easily, but the attack from behind
conquered him.
He wavered, swayed, and would have fallen. They dragged him to a chair.
"Ropes!" cried Harris. "Bring them quick! We'll tie him."
The other hustled away and quickly returned. Then the two tied the
unfortunate magician to the chair.
"Something for a gag," called Harris.
The other looked about, but could not find anything that suited Sport.
"Oh, never mind," said the fellow, as he took a huge clasp knife from
his pocket and opened it. "If he hollers, I'll cut his throat!"
This was spoken in a way that seemed to indicate the ruffian would
actually do the deed without hesitation.
Harris drew up another chair and sat down facing the captive.
Slowly Merry's strength returned. At last he was able to sit up without
the support of the binding ropes.
"Ha! ha!" laughed his bitter enemy. "How do you like it? I don't
believe you fancy it much. I have you now."
Frank made no reply, but he peered through the gloom at the figure of
Sport's companion and assistant. There was something familiar about the
slight, supple form, but it was not till the man turned so the light
reached him differently that Merry recognized him.
"M. Mazarin!" he gasped, incredulously.
The little man nodded.
"Yes," he said, coldly. "Are you surprised to see me?"
"Rather."
"I suppose you expected never to see me again. You thought I had gone
to leave you forever. You thought I would give up everything and let
you go about the country giving exhibitions with this apparatus that
should have become mine at the death of Zolverein. You fancied I was
a fool. You robbed me of what should have been mine, and I do not love
you for it."
"Very fortunately," said Sport Harris, in his sneering way, "we met,
became acquainted, discovered our mutual hatred for you. We are
here--here to get even."
"Right," nodded the little man. "If I can't take Zolverein's place on
the road, I swear you never shall!"
"It is plain that you make a fine pair," said Frank, speaking huskily,
for his throat still felt the effect of the terrible pressure it had
received. "You will do well together. Harris should have been in jail
long ago, and it is not improbable you'll both get there before a great
while."
"We'll ruin you before we go!" grated M. Mazarin. "It will take you a
long time to duplicate this apparatus. Some of it you'll never be able
to duplicate."
"Are you going to steal it?"
"Oh, no."
"What----"
"We are not that foolish," said the little man. "You might recover it
if we stole it."
"But you are going to do something?"
"That's easy guessing," sneered Harris.
"What is it?"
"I will soon show you," said Mazarin, with a cold little laugh. "But
you must keep him still, Harris."
"If he utters a chirp, I'll slit his windpipe," promised the young
ruffian.
Mazarin lighted a lamp, which he placed on a small table. Then he took
a heavy hammer, and before Frank's eyes he smashed at a single blow a
box that served to enable Merry to do one of his most difficult and
interesting feats.
"Now," said the malicious little man, "you know what I am going to
do. I am here to destroy every bit of the apparatus you received from
Zolverein. I can do it in twenty minutes."