“That” was a bullet from a revolver aimed straight at Cassie.
But the bullet did not touch her.
Frank Merriwell had followed them from the building, and he leaped on their assailant, bearing Storms to the ground.
The revolver was discharged again, and Frank felt the powder singe his wrist.
Then Havener came to Frank’s aid, and, between them, they disarmed and captured the ruffian, beating him into a stunned condition with the butt of his own revolver.
That night Storms lay in the town’s “cooler,” and on the following day he was tried for murderous assault and held for the grand jury.
Havener and Cassie promised to appear against him.
The stage-manager went to Frank, like a man, and said:
“Merriwell, I don’t know what the secret is between you and Cassie, and I don’t want to know till you get ready to tell me, but I want to ask your pardon for making a fool of myself over it.”
“That’s all right,” assured Frank. “I had forgotten it.”