“You can thank fortune he didn’t murder you,” said Dustan. “Why, I never saw anything like it! He struck like a snake!”
“He is a snake. It surprised me to find him here.”
“Don’t blame us. He had papers that showed he belonged to two of the leading cycling clubs of Boston. He is a smooth talker, and he literally talked his way in here. Woodock seemed to take to him, for some reason, and they were friendly. He is pursuing him now.”
“Well, Mr. Flynn left something behind to remember him by,” smiled Frank, picking up the knife. “I believe I will keep this.”
“Tell us everything about your trouble with him, if you really were not harmed by that knife,” urged one of the wheelmen.
Examination showed a dent in the buckle of Frank’s belt, but his clothes were not cut and he was entirely uninjured, although, as yet, he had not fully recovered his wind.
When he could talk with ease, Merry told how he had seen Flynn the first time shortly after taking possession of the White Wings in Boston, how Flynn had showed a bill of sale for the yacht, made out to him by Fergus Fearson, a former owner, and how the encounter had ended in the discomfiture of Flynn, as Frank had proved the bill of sale was dated nearly ten days after Fearson sold the yacht to Jack Benjamin, of whom Merriwell purchased it.
Flynn had sworn to have the yacht, and, as the White Wings was entering Rockland harbor one foggy morning, several days after the encounter in Boston, the claimant and some fellow rascals had tried to take possession of her by force, one of the gang pretending to be Sheriff Ulmer.
Frank had not been fooled, and he demanded to see their authority. As they could show none, they were warned not to attempt to board the White Wings.
They did attempt it, however, but were repulsed by Frank and his friends and forced to retreat.