“It’s not true!” cried the lame boy, his eyes flashing. “Mr. Merriwell does not get one cent of it!”
“No! no! no!” exclaimed the girl. “He helps us! He is so good to us!”
“He’s playin’ his game pretty slick,” declared old Joe, “but he ain’t your friend for nothin’.”
Then the man obtained a fair view of the picture in Frank’s hand. With remarkable swiftness he snatched it, and then, holding it in both hands, he stood staring at it, his face working strangely.
Merriwell had started to take the picture from the man, but he stopped, astonished by the expression on the face of Hicks.
The engineer looked from the picture to the face of the girl. He seemed comparing the two. At last he hoarsely asked:
“Is this the picture of your mother, gal?”
“Yes, sir,” Nell faintly answered.
“Then you are my niece, for it is the picture of my own sister!”
Frank Merriwell started, as if he had been struck a blow. Both the boy and girl uttered cries of astonishment.