Frank realized his danger on the instant. Dunton, insane with anger, meant to kill him, and then declare it was an accident.
Merriwell leaped aside, and parried with a slight turn of his wrist. The point of his enemy’s sword was turned aside, but it passed through his shirt sleeve.
Realizing he was baffled, Dunton fought like a fiend, and the swords clashed and clanged, sparks flying from the glittering blades.
The audience little dreamed a real duel was taking place on that stage, but never before had they witnessed anything like it, and, as one man, they arose to their feet.
Clash! clash! clash! The ring of steel against steel filled the house.
Like young tigers, the two antagonists crouched and darted and circled and sprang.
It was a most thrilling spectacle.
“Curse you!” panted Dunton, as he was baffled again and again.
Not a word came from Merriwell, but now there was a light in his eyes that his enemy had never seen there.
Dunton could not reach Frank, try as he might, and he began to realize that this fellow whom he despised was really his master with the weapons they held.