Frank Merriwell's Triumph Part 16

The agitated woman shook her head.

"No one knows. No one can tell! Oh, it's a terrible thing, Mr.

Merriwell!"

"Where is Mr. Staples?" questioned Frank, thinking he might succeed far better in obtaining the facts from the woman's husband.

"That I don't know. He is searching for her. He, too, has been gone several days. I heard from him once. He was then in Warner, away up in the mountains."

Merry saw that he must learn the truth from the woman.

"Mrs. Staples," he said, "please tell me everything in connection with this singular affair. It's the only way that you can be of immediate a.s.sistance. You know I am quite in the dark, save for such information as I received from my brother's telegram. It informed me that Felicia was in trouble and in danger. What sort of trouble or what sort of danger threatens her, I was not told. In order for me to do anything I must know the facts immediately."

"It was nearly a month ago," said Mrs. Staples, "that we first discovered anything was wrong. Felicia had not been very well for some time. She's so frail and delicate! It has been my custom each night before retiring to look in upon her to see if she was comfortable and all right. One night, as I entered her room, light in hand, I was nearly frightened out of my senses to see a man standing near her bed. He saw me or heard me even before I saw him. Like a flash he whirled and sprang out of the window to the veranda roof, from which he easily escaped to the ground.

"I obtained barely a glimpse of him, and I was so frightened at the time that I could not tell how he looked. Felicia seemed to be sleeping soundly at the time, and didn't awake until I gave a cry that aroused her and the whole house as well. I never had a thought then that the man meant her harm. She was so innocent and helpless it seemed no one would dream of harming her. I took him for a burglar who had entered the house by the way of her window. After that we took pains to have her window opened only a short s.p.a.ce, and tightly locked in that position, so that it could not be opened further from the outside without smas.h.i.+ng it and alarming some one. I was thankful we had escaped so easily, and my husband felt sure there would be no further cause for worry. He said that, having been frightened off in such a manner, the burglar was not liable to return.

"Somehow it seemed to me that Felicia was still more nervous and pale after that. She seemed worried about something, but whenever I questioned her she protested she was not. The doctor came to see her several times, but he could give her nothing that benefited her. I continued my practice of looking in at her each night before retiring.

One night, a week later, after going to bed, something--I don't know what--led me to rise again and go to her room. Outside her door I paused in astonishment, for I distinctly heard her voice, and she seemed to be in conversation with some one. I almost fancied I heard another voice, but was not certain about that. I pushed open the door and entered.

Felicia was kneeling by her partly opened window, and she gave a great start when I came in so quickly. A moment later I fancied I heard a sound as of some one or something dropping from the roof upon the ground.

"I was so astonished that I scarcely knew what to say. 'Felicia!' I exclaimed. 'What were you doing at that window?'

"'Oh, I was getting a breath of the cool night air,' she answered. 'With my window partly closed it is almost stuffy in here. Sometimes I can't seem to breathe.'

"'But I heard you talking, child,' I declared. 'Who were you talking to?'

"'I talk to myself sometimes, auntie, you know,' she said, in her innocent way. She always called me auntie. I confess, Mr. Merriwell, that I was completely deceived. This came all the more natural because Felicia was such a frank, open-hearted little thing, and I'd never known her to deceive me in the slightest. I decided that my imagination had led me to believe I heard another voice than her own, and also had caused me to fancy that some one had dropped from the roof of the veranda. After that, however, I was uneasy. And my uneasiness was increased by the fact that the child seemed to grow steadily worse instead of better.

"Often I dreamed of her and of the man I had seen in her room. One night I dreamed that a terrible black shadow was hanging over her and had reached out huge clawlike hands to clutch her. That dream awoke me in the middle of the night, and I could not shake off the impression that some danger menaced her. With this feeling on me I slipped out of bed, lighted a candle, and again proceeded to her room. This time I was astonished once more to hear her talking as if in conversation with some one. But now I knew that, unless I was dreaming or bewitched, I also heard another voice than her own--that of a man. My bewilderment was so great that I forgot caution and flung her door wide open. The light of the candle showed her sitting up in bed, while leaning on the footboard was a dark-faced man with a black-pointed mustache. I screamed, and, in my excitement, dropped the candle, which was extinguished. I think I fainted, for Mr. Staples found me in a dazed condition just outside Felicia's door. She was bending over me, but when I told her of the man I had seen and when she was questioned, she behaved in a most singular manner. Not a word would she answer. Had she denied everything I might have fancied it all a grewsome dream. I might have fancied I'd walked in my sleep and dreamed of seeing a man there, for he was gone when my husband reached the spot.

"She would deny nothing, however, and what convinced us beyond question that some one had been in her room was the fact that the window was standing wide open. After that we changed her room to another part of the house and watched her closely. Although we persisted in urging her to tell everything, not a word could we get from her. Then it was that Mr. Staples wired Richard, your brother.

"Three days later Felicia disappeared. She vanished in the daytime, when every one supposed her to be safe in the house. No one saw her go out.

She must have slipped out without being observed. Of course we notified the police as soon as we were sure she was gone, and the city was searched for her. Oh! it is a terrible thing, Mr. Merriwell; but she has not been found! Mr. Staples believes he has found traces of her, and that's why he is now away from home. That's all I can tell you. I hope you will not think we were careless or neglected her. She was the last child in the world to do such a thing. I can't understand it. I think she must have been bewitched."

Frank had listened quietly to this story, drinking in every word, the expression on his face failing to show how much it affected him.

"I am sure it was no fault of yours, Mrs. Staples," he said.

"But what do you think has happened to her? She was too young to be led into an intrigue with a man. Still, I----"

"You mustn't suspect her of that, Mrs. Staples!" exclaimed Merry.

"Whatever has happened, I believe it was not the child's fault. When I placed her in your hands, you remember, I hinted to you of the fact that there was a mystery connected with her father's life, and that he was an outcast n.o.bleman of Spain. Where he is now I cannot say. I last saw him in Fardale. He was then hunted by enemies, and he disappeared and has never been heard from since. I believe it was his intention to seek some spot where he would be safe from annoyance and could lead his enemies to believe he was dead. I believe this mystery which hung like a shadow over him has fallen at last on little Felicia. I would that I had known something of this before, that I might have arrived here sooner. I think Felicia would have trusted me--I am sure of it!"

"But now--now?"

"Now," said Frank grimly, shaking his head, "now I must find her. You say you heard from your husband, who was then in a place called Warner?"

"Yes."

"Then he may have tracked her thus far. It's a start on the trail."

Mrs. Staples placed a trembling hand on Frank's sleeve.

"If you find her--the moment you find her," she pleaded, "let me know.

Remember I shall be in constant suspense until I hear from you."

"Depend upon me to let you know," a.s.sured Frank.

A moment later he was descending the steps. He walked swiftly along the palm-lined streets, revolving in his mind the perplexing problem with which he was confronted. Seemingly he was buried in deep thought and quite oblivious of his surroundings. As he pa.s.sed around a corner into another street he glanced back without turning his head. Already he had noted that another man was walking rapidly in the same direction, and this sidelong glance gave him a glimpse of the man.

Three corners he turned, coming at length to the main street of the city. There he turned about a moment later and was face to face with the man who had been following him. This chap would have pa.s.sed on, but Frank promptly stepped out and confronted him. He saw a small, wiry, dark-skinned individual, on whose right cheek there was a triangular scar.

"I beg your pardon," said Merry.

"_Si, senor_," returned the man with the scar, lifting his eyebrows in apparent surprise.

"You seem very interested in me," said Merry quietly. "But I wish to tell you something for your own benefit. It is dangerous for you to follow me, and you had better quit it. That's all. _Adios!_"

"_Carramba!_" muttered the man, glaring at Frank's back as Merriwell again strode away.

CHAPTER VIII.

FELIPE DULZURA.

Frank did not find Rufus Staples at Warner. He had been there, however, and gone; but no one seemed to know where. The afternoon of a sunny day found Merry mounted on a fine horse, emerging from the mountains into a black valley that was shut in on either side by savage peaks. Through this valley lay a faint trail winding over the sand and through the forests of hideous cactus and yucca trees.

He had not journeyed many miles along this trail ere he drew up. Turning his horse about, he took a powerful pair of field gla.s.ses from a case and adjusted them over his eyes. With their aid he surveyed the trail behind him as far as it could be seen.

"I thought I was not mistaken," he muttered, as his gla.s.ses showed him a mounted man coming steadily along from the foothills of the mountains.

"I wonder if he is the gentleman with the scarred cheek. I think I will wait and see."

He dismounted and waited beside the trail for the horseman to approach.

The man came on steadily and unhesitatingly and finally discovered Frank lingering there. Like Merry, the stranger was well mounted, and his appearance seemed to indicate that there was Spanish blood in his veins.

He had a dark, carefully trimmed Van d.y.k.e beard and was carelessly rolling a cigarette when he appeared in plain view. His clothing was plain and serviceable.

Merry stood beside his horse and watched the stranger draw near. Frank's hand rested lightly on his hip close to the b.u.t.t of his holstered revolver, but the unknown made no offensive move. Instead of that he called, in a pleasant, musical voice:

"Good-day, sir. I have overtaken you at last. I saw you in advance, and I hastened somewhat."

"Did you, indeed?" retorted Merry, with a faint smile. "I fancied you were coming after me in a most leisurely manner. But, then, I suppose that's what you call hurrying in this country."

"Oh, we never rush and exhaust ourselves after the manner of the East,"

was the smiling declaration, as the handsome stranger struck a match and lighted the cigarette.