“But I will go first,” said Santenel, speaking to Charles Merriwell. “Ten minutes after I am gone you will leave this house and carry out my instructions. Good-by!”
“Victory is mine!” chuckled Santenel, as he turned to leave the room.
At that moment there was a whirr of wheels and the br-r-r-r of an automobile in the street, which stopped in front of the house. A second later and a knock sounded on the door.
Santenel muttered a malediction, but walked to the door and opened it.
The colored boy stood there, and with him Frank Merriwell.
Before Santenel could recover from his surprise and mentally resume his pretended character of “Fisher Stokes,” the broker, Frank crowded through the doorway and stood before him.
“You scoundrel!” Frank hissed, and with a swoop of his hand he tore away the false mustache and imperial.
With a cry of defeat and fear Santenel leaped at Frank, and was stricken to the floor, where he lay in a senseless heap.
Frank Merriwell had come in time!