"I am sorry, but I can't accommodate you till my friend gets through with your servant, who was extremely fresh, like most Frenchmen."
"Zis to me!"
"Yes."
"Sare, I am M. Rouen Montfort, an' I—"
"It makes no difference to me if you are the high mogul of France. You are on the deck of an English vessel, and you are dealing with Americans."
The Frenchman flung his cigar aside and seemed to feel for a weapon.
Frank stood there quietly, his eyes watching every movement.
"If you have what you are seeking about your person," he said, with perfect calmness, "I advise you not to draw it. If you do, as sure as you are sailing down New York harbor, I'll fling you over the rail, weapon and all!"
That was business, and it was not boasting. Frank actually meant to throw the man into the water if he drew a weapon.
M. Rouen Montfort paused and stared at Frank Merriwell, beginning to understand that he was not dealing with an ordinary youth.