“A bomb!” echoed Frank.
The fuse was very short, and the spark of fire was swiftly eating toward the deadly ball.
Without hesitation, Frank caught up the spluttering thing and sprang toward the broken window with it in his hand!
It was a quick-witted, daring and nervy act—the act of a boy whose brain seemed to work with lightning rapidity, and whose hand was scarcely slower than his brain.
The window was reached, and with all his strength the lad flung the thing through the jagged opening in the glass.
It made a sweeping curve through the air, struck the ground and exploded.
The detonation was terrific. A mass of earth, paving stones, fire and smoke leaped upward from the place where the bomb struck, and there was a jangling crash of glass from hundreds of windows, while the buildings near at hand seemed to stagger and reel.
Frank was hurled back from the window by the force of the explosion and flung, breathless and benumbed to the floor.
But he had saved his own life and that of three other persons.
That a deliberate, desperate and dastardly attempt had been made upon the lives of Frank Merriwell and those with him in that room was certain. That all had escaped through Frank’s quick-witted and nervy action was little short of a marvel.