“I see that you have the advantage, sir,” he said; “and I will not be foolish enough to draw. I give you the word of Ben Elrich, and my word is good, whatever else may be said about me.”
Instantly Frank released the wrist of the man.
“I accept your word of honor,” he said.
“But let me tell you,” said the baffled gambler, “that I’ll not forget what has happened here. You say that boy is your brother? Well, you had better take care of him.”
“I have an idea that, given a fair show, he can take care of himself. He proved quite able to do so until one of your friends caught him at a disadvantage by a trick. It took two men to get the best of a boy of thirteen, which is something I feel certain you will not be proud of.”
“Who are you?” demanded Elrich. “I may wish to see you again.”
“My name is Frank Merriwell, and you will find me right here at this hotel, for a day or two, at least.”
“Frank Merriwell!” muttered Black Ben, starting a trifle, and looking at Merry with added interest. “And this is your brother?”
“Exactly.”
Then the gambler turned and looked at Dick, as if fixing the features of the boy upon his memory, so that he would know the lad again, anywhere and under any circumstances.