“Don’t get funny!” growled the man. “I don’t like it!”
“You may not like it, but it is the truth. They are fit associates for you. You have lived by robbery, and I doubt not that you will be executed for murder.”
“Better keep a civil tongue, Merriwell!” snarled Brattle. “You are in my power, and I can make you die a thousand deaths!”
“I have but one life, and so you can make me die but one death.”
Brattle stood with his hands on his hips, scowling down at his victim. The masked ruffians were farther back. They remained silent, and it is doubtful if any of them understood what was being said.
“You do not know me, Frank Merriwell. I have sworn to get even with you for all you have cost me.”
“I have known others to swear such an oath. One who did so, a pal of yours, was drowned in England. Drowning is too easy a death for you.”
“Go on! You are digging your own grave with your words!”
“A little while ago you said you had decided to kill me, anyhow. What difference does it make?”
“Before I kill you you must tell me where to find Elsie Bellwood. In what part of Paris is she?”