“How sacrificing!” sneered Lorrimer.
“You don’t have to believe it, but I do want you to believe one thing, and that is that the men are being overtrained.”
“Will you permit me to know my own business?”
“When you do know it. When you think you know it but are mistaken you need somebody to tell you.”
“I’m not accustomed to taking advice from such fellows as you! Unlock that door!”
“Not yet. Sit down!”
“If you do not unlock that door, I’ll strangle you!”
Frank Merriwell laughed. He was amused by the threat. That laugh was like a whip stroke to Lorrimer. His face grew furious, and he made a jump at Frank, snarling:
“Give me that key!”
Merry was ready to meet him, for he knew how impulsive and quick-tempered the manager was, and he had anticipated Lorrimer’s move. They grappled, but Lorrimer did not clutch Frank’s throat. Instead of that, he felt his wrists grasped by fingers of iron, felt himself hurled backward like a child in the grip of a giant, felt himself flung into a chair and pinned there.