“Mr. Keene was studying over a very perplexing matter, sir,” he said, in explanation, “and I was doubtful if he would care to be interrupted; but immediately on hearing your name he told me to bring you in. He is in his private office.”
The door of this private office was opened and Frank entered. A tall, dark-eyed, clean-shaven, keen-faced man arose from before a desk and held out his hand.
“Mr. Merriwell,” he said, “I am glad to see you again. It is something of a surprise, as that little Alaskan business you wished looked after has fallen through.”
“Yes,” said Frank, “there is no necessity for following it up. Milton Sukes is dead and will trouble me no further; but I have other enemies who are giving me trouble.”
“Not this man, Macklyn Morgan? Why, I understand that he lost a leg recently, and it hardly seems that he will be very energetic and troublesome to you in the future.”
“How did you know that he lost a leg?”
Keene smiled the least bit.
“I have been keeping track of you, Merriwell, and know all about your desperate fight to hold your mines. I thought you might need my services again, and for that reason I decided to keep fully informed of all that transpired.”
“Well, Keene, I do need you and need you bad. I hope the matter on which you are engaged this evening may be put aside for a short time, at least, as it is of the greatest importance that you give me assistance without delay.”
“I will do anything I can, Merriwell. I think this affair may rest until to-morrow. It was by a bare chance that you found me here at this hour. I wished to be alone to study over a case which I had on hand, which is decidedly bothersome, and so I chose to come here when everything was quiet. Sit down, sir, and tell me what you desire.”