"We've fixed you this time," the revengeful fellow sneered. "It's the first time I've ever been able to do you up in good shape. You always managed to squirm out of everything before, but all your squirming will do you no good now."
Frank was silent, his eyes fixed on Harris' face, and the fellow felt the contempt of that look as keenly as it was possible for him to feel anything.
"Don't look at me like that!" he snarled.
Frank continued to look at him.
Once more Harris seemed losing his head.
"How I hate you, Merriwell!" he panted, bending toward Frank, while Mazarin watched him narrowly. "I never dreamed I could hate anyone as I hate you."
Then, quick as a flash, he struck Frank a stinging blow with his open hand, nearly upsetting the youth, chair and all.
"Oh there is some satisfaction in that!" he grated.
"A coward's satisfaction," said the steady voice of the helpless victim. "Only a wretched coward would strike a person bound and unable to resist!"
"That's right!"