SAVING HIS ENEMY.
Havener saw Sargent, and the wild light leaped into his eyes.
"You!" he hoarsely cried.
Sargent shrank and cowered, for he saw in the face of the stage manager
that which filled him with deadly horror.
"So you are here!" burst from Havener. "And you killed Cassie, you dog!"
"Killed her?" gasped the frightened actor. "Is she dead?"
"She's dying!"
"Good gracious!"
"You--you did it when you showed old Dan where Frank hid that whisky!
You put the devil into the miserable old father who is wailing and
tearing his hair at the bedside of his dying girl! You are responsible
for it all!"
"I--I didn't think!" stammered Sargent. "I--I didn't mean to--to do
anything wrong!"
"You lie!" roared Havener, pointing one finger at the terrified
fellow--"you look like the dog you are! You did mean to do something
wrong!"
"No, no!"
"Silence! You were trying to injure Frank Merriwell; you can't deny
that. You knew old Dan was drunk, and you hoped to get him down, so he
would break up the play. You knew Frank had taken the whisky from him."
"But--but I never dreamed----"
"It makes no difference; you are responsible, and nothing can save
you!"
"Save me? Why--why, what do you mean? It can't be----"
"Ha! ha! ha!" laughed Havener, and that laugh turned the cowering
actor's blood to ice water. "I kept my word to Frank Merriwell. I did
not search for you. I found you here by accident. I said I would shoot
you on sight if I found you like this!"
"But you were joking! You----"
"Joking!" roared Havener, furiously. "Joking about that? No! I was in
deadly earnest! Arthur Sargent, get ready for eternity!"
His hand went back to his hip pocket, and out flashed a revolver.
With a scream of terror, the imperiled actor dropped on his knees,
clasping his hands and crying:
"Don't do it, Havener--please don't shoot! I didn't mean to! I can't
die! I'm not fit to die! Oh, please, please, please!"
"My ears are deaf," declared the man with the revolver. "Say your
prayers!"
"Mercy!"
"Say your prayers!"
There was no sign of relenting in Havener's face.
"Oh, Mr. Merriwell!" cried Sargent, appealingly, "speak to him--do
something to save me! Don't let him murder me in this cold-blooded way!"
"It is useless for you to appeal to him," declared Havener. "He can't
save you now!"
But Frank had no idea of standing still and seeing murder done in that
little room.
"Hold, Havener!" he cried. "Drop that revolver!"
"Keep back! Don't try to interfere with me!"
Havener took aim at Sargent, who covered his face with his hands, and,
uttering a scream, fell forward on his face upon the floor.
With a bound, Frank Merriwell was before the madman, having placed his
body in front of Havener's revolver at the very moment when the stage
manager was liable to fire!
Thus Frank imperiled his life to save that of his enemy.
"Stop!" he cried, advancing on the stage manager.
"Get out!" snarled Havener, and the hammer of the self-acting revolver
quivered under the pressure of his finger on the trigger. "Stand aside!"
"No!"
"Stand aside!"
"You shall not shoot!"
"Stand aside, or by the living gods! I'll shoot through you to reach
him!"
"You will do nothing of the kind!"
Straight up to the muzzle of the revolver Frank walked. Then he grasped
the man's hand, thrust it aside, and tried to take the weapon from him.
For a moment Ross Havener seemed dazed by Merriwell's nerve, and then,
uttering a furious cry, he struggled to retain the revolver and get a
shot at Sargent.
Crack!--the weapon was discharged, but the bullet tore harmlessly
through the partition and buried itself in the wall of another room.
"Let go!" ordered Havener, almost foaming at the mouth in his mad rage.
"Give up that pistol!"
"Not till I have killed him!"
"That you shall not do!"
"I swear I will!"
It was a furious struggle, for Havener was big and strong, and he did
his best to retain the weapon and break away from Frank. But Merry,
once the champion all-round athlete at Yale, finally pinned the man to
the wall, large and strong though he was, and held him there. Never for
a moment had Frank relaxed his hold on the revolver, and now he broke
Havener's grip, taking the weapon from him, despite all his efforts.
The stage manager was astounded, for never had he dreamed that Frank
Merriwell possessed such strength.
Having secured the weapon, Frank suddenly leaped backward, setting
Havener free.
For a moment the man remained motionless, and then he cried:
"All right, you have the revolver, but you can't keep me from killing
the cur! I'll strangle him! I'll---- Why, where is he?"
Sargent was gone!
"Gone!" cried the disarmed man, amazed.
"Yes," said Frank, with satisfaction.
"When? How?"
"While we were struggling for the revolver."
"The coward! He ran away! But I'll find him yet!"
Havener dashed from the room, looking around for Sargent. As he could
see nothing of the man, he went leaping toward the stairs that led to
the stage door.
"I'll find him!" he shouted, as he bounded down the stairs. "I'll
avenge her yet!"
Slam--he was gone.
With the revolver in his hand, Frank turned back, unheeding a weak cry:
"Vat's all der madder apoudt, Vrankie? I peliefed me a slycone hat
sdruck der blace, und I got me cofer under to peen oudt der vay uf id."
The head of the Dutch lad popped up from behind a sofa, where he had
been hiding.
Frank knew Ephraim Gallup was not there, for the Vermonter would have
forced his way into the dressing room to learn what was taking place
there.
Merry did not believe Sargent had left the building. He entered the
dressing room, and then passed through by connecting door into the
adjoining room, taking a light with him.
There he found Sargent, shivering with fear, trying to hide behind some
trunks.
"Now is your time to get out of here," said Frank. "Havener believes
you have left the building, and he has gone to look for you."
Sargent was so frightened that it was with difficulty he could stand on
his feet.
"The man is mad!" he whispered. "I could see it in his eyes."
"Yes. He is crazed by what has happened. You must not be seen by him.
You have the money to get away, and you must lose no time in doing so."
"I won't lose a minute."
"Your trunk----"
"Hang the trunk! If I get off with a whole skin I'll let that go."
"Tell me where to send it, and----"
"I'll wire you. Will you send it?"
"Yes."
"All right."
Then, without one word of thanks for what Frank had done, the
ungrateful actor hurried out of the building.