“You shall suffer for this!” he grated.
Then the coach advanced quickly on Merriwell, speaking in a low tone, although his voice quivered with passion:
“Let him go—let him go! If you don’t——”
“What then?” said Jack Diamond, placing himself in the path of the treacherous coach. “What do you think you will do about it, my fine fellow?”
“I will—— Great Scott! It is Jack Diamond!”
The coach staggered from the shock of the discovery, for up to that moment he had been too excited to recognize either of the boys. Now he looked at the other, adding, hoarsely:
“And that’s Frank Merriwell! Satan take the luck!”
This attracted Frank’s attention, so he turned and took a square look at the coach, in whose appearance he had fancied there was something familiar from the very first.
“Great Jove!” he cried. “Rolf Harlow!”
The name and the sight of its owner awakened a host of unpleasant memories in Frank’s heart.