“Yes; but I know you cannot make me squeal. I’d be ashamed to die after begging to you! It would be dying like a coward! If I must croak, I prefer to do it like a man! Go on with your work!”
Whether they understood it or not, some of the masked ruffians, who stood about with folded arms, murmured as if they were applauding.
Never before had Bruce Browning felt such admiration for his college chum. Always had he known Frank was brave, but now he knew he had nerves of iron. Bruce did not wonder that Merry had been a winner at everything, for he felt that any man with such nerve could not help winning.
Brattle swore.
“I believe you think I am fooling with you!” he snarled. “I believe you think I do not dare to kill you!”
“Quite the contrary,” said Merry promptly; “I believe you are such a coward that you dare murder me, for no one but a low-lived cur would think of doing such a thing!”
Again Brattle sprang on Frank and menaced him with the glittering knife, on the very point of which was a single drop of blood.
“Go ahead!” cried Merry. “Don’t be fooling around like this! Finish your job!”
Brattle drew off.
“Not so quick,” he said. “I understand. You are eager that I should do it, in order to have it over as soon as possible. But I have sworn to make you tell where I may find Elsie Bellwood, and I’ll do it. Do you know how I am going to make you do it?”