"If he does, it will be his last chirp, for I swear I'll use the knife on him!"
Frank fully believed the fellow would do just as he threatened. Besides that, it was extremely doubtful if anyone could hear him in case he shouted, as the theater was a detached building, in which there were no offices or stores.
So Merriwell was forced to sit there, bound and helpless, and witness the destruction of his property, the intricate and costly apparatus for performing his wonderful feats of magic.
With savage frenzy the little man battered and hammered and smashed the apparatus which had cost many hundreds of dollars. He laughed while he was doing it.
Harris lighted a cigarette and sat astride a chair near Frank, whom he continued to taunt.
"This is the finish of the career of Merriwell, the wonderful magician," he sneered. "He'll never be heard of again. Smash the stuff, Mazarin, old man! That's the way to do it! How do you like it, Merriwell? Doesn't it make you feel real happy to see him break up the furniture? Ha! ha! ha!"
Now, not a word came from Frank, but his jaws were set and his eyes gleaming. It was plain enough that he had vowed within his heart that some day he would square the account with his enemies.
Piece after piece of the apparatus was destroyed by the vengeful little man, while Harris sat and smoked, puffing the vile-smelling stuff into the face of the helpless youth.
Since starting out to fill Zolverein's engagements on the road, Frank had been remarkably successful, but he could not go on without the apparatus, and it would take a long time for him to replace the articles thus maliciously ruined. Some of them he knew he would never be able to replace.
With the wrecking of his property one of his dearest dreams vanished. He had thought it possible that he might make enough money during vacations to carry him through Yale, so he could complete his course in college, which he had been forced to leave because of financial losses.