His reception at the hands of the police was so discouraging that if he were not filled with the purpose to render every aid in his power, under the present circumstances, to the poor prisoner of Devil’s Island, he would have been disheartened. He made an attempt to locate the band, in order to lay before the police absolute evidence of such an organization, and thus it happened, while working on the case alone, he fell into the hands of the dreadful seven, and was taken captive to the cellar.
When the force of gendarmes rushed in, there was Frank bound to the pillar. The capture of the conspirators, rather than the rescue of their late prisoner, seemed to be their purpose. Pausing to question as to the direction of the flight of the Brothers, they made off in pursuit without making the least effort to release the captive from his bonds.
Down the stairs came a man who walked with dignity, but who was followed by a wildly excited youth. The youth was Jack Diamond. The man was the mysterious Mr. Noname.
“Here he is,” quietly said the Man Without a Name, as he caught sight of Frank.
Jack gave a shout of joy and rushed forward.
“Frank, are you alive?”
“Sure thing,” laughed the nervy young American. “But the gendarmes came at just the right moment. If they had delayed ten seconds longer, you’d have found me with seven large holes in my skin.”
“I brought them here,” said Mr. Noname.
“Then I again owe you my life,” came with genuine thankfulness from Merriwell. “The debt is getting pretty heavy, sir.”
“There is no debt. I have told you I am your good genius. You must believe me now.”