Frank Merriwell's New Comedian Part 23

"Elsie! Elsie! dear little sweetheart!"

For some time he sat there, thinking, thinking. His face flushed and paled softened and glowed again; sometimes he looked sad, and sometimes he smiled. Had a friend been there, he might have read Frank's thoughts by the changing expressions on his face.

At last Merry put away the letter, after kissing it again, and, having wound up his watch, undressed and prepared for bed. His bed stood in a little alcove of the room, and he drew the curtains back, exposing it.

Donning pajamas, he soon was in bed. Reaching out, he pressed a b.u.t.ton, and--snap!--out went the gas, turned off by electricity.

Frank composed himself to sleep. The dull rumble of the not yet sleeping city came up from the streets and floated in at his open window. The sound turned after a time to a musical note that was like that which comes from an organ, and it lulled him to sleep.

For some time Merry seemed to sleep as peacefully as a child. Gradually the roaring from the streets became less and less. Frank breathed softly and regularly.

And then, without starting or stirring, he opened his eyes. He lay quite still and listened, but heard no sound at first. For all of this, he was impressed by a feeling that something was there in that room with him!

It was a strange, creepy, chilling sensation that ran over Frank. He s.h.i.+vered the least bit.

Rustle-rustle! It was the lightest of sounds, but he was sure he heard it.

Some object was moving in the room!

Frank remembered that he had closed and locked the door. Not only had he locked it, but he had bolted it, so that it could not be opened from the outside by the aid of a key alone.

What was there in that room? How had anything gained admittance?

Frank attempted to convince himself that it was imagination, but he was a youth with steady nerves, and he knew he was not given to imagining such things without cause.

Rustle--rustle!

There it was again! There was no doubt of it this time!

Something moved near the foot of the bed!

Still without stirring, Merriwell turned his gaze in that direction.

At the foot of the bed a dark shape seemed to tower!

Impressed by a sense of extreme peril, Frank shot his hand out of the bed toward the electric b.u.t.ton on the wall.

By chance he struck the right b.u.t.ton.

Snap!--up flared the gas.

And there at the foot of the bed stood a man in black, his face hidden by a mask.

The sudden up-flaring of the gas seemed to startle the unknown intruder and disconcert him for a moment. With a hiss, he started backward.

Bolt upright sat Frank.

Merry's eyes looked straight into the eyes that peered through the twin holes in the mask.

Thus they gazed at each other some seconds.

There was no weapon in the hands of the masked man, and Merriwell guessed that the fellow was a burglar.

That was Frank's first thought.

Then came another.

Why had the man sought the bed? Frank's clothes were lying on some chairs outside the alcove, and in order to go through them it had not been necessary to come near the bed.

Then Merry remembered the feeling of danger that had come over him, and something told him this man had entered that room to do him harm.

Somehow, Frank became convinced that the fellow had been creeping up to seize a pillow, fling himself on the bed, press the pillow over the sleeper's face, and commit a fearful crime.

Even then Frank wondered how the man could have gained admittance to the room.

Up leaped the former Yale athlete; backward sprang the masked man. Over the foot of the bed Merry recklessly flung himself, dodging a hand that shot out at him, and placing himself between the man and the door.

As he bounded toward the door, Merriwell saw, with a feeling of unutterable amazement, that it was tightly closed and that the bolt was shot in place, just as he had left it.

He whirled about, with his back toward the door.

"Good-evening!" he said. "Isn't this rather late for a call? I wasn't expecting you."

The man was crouching before him, as if to spring toward him, but Frank's cool words seemed to cause further hesitation. A muttering growl came from behind the mask, but no words did the unknown speak.

"It is possible you dropped into the wrong room," said Merry. "I trust you will be able to explain yourself, for you are in a rather awkward predicament. Besides that, you have hidden your face, and that does not speak well for your honest intentions."

Without doubt, the intruder was astonished by Merriwell's wonderful coolness. Although startled from slumber in such a nerve-shocking manner, Frank now seemed perfectly self-possessed.

Silence.

"You don't seem to be a very sociable sort of caller," said Merry, with something like a faint laugh. "Won't you take off your mask and sit down a while."

The youth asked the question as if he were inviting the stranger to take off his hat and make himself at home.

The man's hand slipped into his bosom. Frank fancied it sought a weapon.

Now it happened that Merry had no weapon at hand, and he felt that he would be in a very unpleasant position if that other were to "get the drop" on him.

Frank made a rush at the stranger.

The man tried to draw something from his bosom, but it seemed to catch and hang there, and Merry was on him. The unknown tried to dodge, and he partly succeeded in avoiding Frank's arms.

However, he did not get fully away, and, a second later, they grappled.

The man, however, had the advantage; for all that Frank had rushed upon him, he had risen partly behind Merry, after dodging. He clutched Frank about the waist and attempted to hurl him to the floor with crus.h.i.+ng force.

Frank Merriwell was an expert wrestler, and, although taken thus at a disadvantage, he squirmed about and broke his fall, simply being forced to one knee.

"Now I have ye!" panted the man, hoa.r.s.ely.