“Miss,” he said, quietly, “I wouldn’t do it if I were you.”
She gave a little cry of alarm, and nearly dropped the glass.
Dunton stared at Frank and muttered an exclamation of astonishment.
“Oh, it’s Mr. Merriwell!” cried the girl, in mingled delight, confusion and shame, as she put the wine down.
“Yes, it is!” said Dunton; “but where the dickens did he come from?”
Frank looked the actor sternly in the eyes.
“I think I wasted my breath when I talked to you to-night, Dunton,” he said.
The man moved restlessly in his chair, and his face flushed in an angry way.
“Have you been spying on me, Mr. Merriwell?” he demanded.
“I have been watching you,” said Frank, honestly. “It was purely by accident that I saw you come in here with this young lady. I came in also and sat out there beyond the screen. I sat down where, by the aid of the mirror yonder, I could see everything you did.”