Frank took the crimson star from his pocket and placed it on the table before them.
“It is the sign of death!” he said. “It came from the Black Brothers, from whose hands I was saved this night. There are seven of the brothers, and there are seven points to the star.”
Diamond gave himself a shake.
“Come, come, Merriwell!” he exclaimed. “What sort of rot is this? Excuse me for using the word ‘rot,’ but no other word seems appropriate. It is like a chapter from a sensational story. You haven’t been reading French detective novels till they have turned your brain, have you?”
“Nothing of the sort, Diamond,” replied Frank calmly. “I know it seems most remarkable, and I do not wonder you think it crazy nonsense. I remember that I thought Edmond Laforce insane.”
“Who is Edmond Laforce?”
“He is, or was, the Duke of Benoit du Sault.”
“But he is dead.”
“Yes, murdered in his bed by the Black Brothers!”
“Nonsense! He died in a perfectly natural manner, of heart failure.”