Angered at being thus discovered, Fillmore aimed a swift blow at Merriwell’s face. Like a flash of light Merry caught the fellow’s hand, gave it a twist and locked his other arm round Fred’s. With his free hand Fillmore attempted to strike again, making a sweeping blow at Frank’s head.
Merriwell pressed downward sharply and firmly on the hand of the imprisoned arm, and Fillmore’s blow stopped before he had reached Frank, while a cry of pain broke from his lips.
“I wouldn’t repeat the trick, Fillmore, if I were in your place,” said Merry quietly. “You’ll simply hurt yourself by it. If you attempt to kick me on the shins I shall use still more pressure on your arm.”
The baffled fellow glared sidelong at his master.
“Curse you!” he hissed.
“Save your curses. You know they have a way, like chickens, of coming home to roost.”
“Let go!”
“In a moment. I didn’t know you were in the house, but I fancied some one was listening behind these curtains.”
“I have a right to do what I please in this house. You are an intruder here! You’d better get out!”
“You have a right to do what you please anywhere if you behave yourself. I did not intend to touch you, but you struck at me, and I was compelled to defend myself. The last time you struck at me I was unprepared and could not defend myself. I have a little scar on my head now.”