Frank turned to the colored boy, who stood dumb with amazement, and sent him with a hasty message to Inza, who was waiting below. The boy vanished, diving for the elevator with comical speed.
Santenel rose to his feet and looked longingly at one of the closed windows.
“You can’t go out by the door,” said Frank, “and if you pitch yourself out of that window it will be pretty sure to save the hangman an unpleasant job.”
Santenel groped weakly to a chair.
“You are making a great mistake,” he quiveringly urged. “On my honor, Mr. Merriwell, you are making a dreadful mistake!”
“Release him from that spell!” Frank ordered, in so commanding a tone that Santenel fairly leaped in his chair.
“Yes, yes!” the hypnotist replied, though he wanted to deny that the elder Merriwell was under any spell. But he did not dare to do this; and, with a word and a few passes of his long, thin hands, he removed the strange influence under which Charles Conrad Merriwell had been laboring.
The change produced was remarkable. The face resumed its accustomed appearance and the eyes held their natural light, except that Mr. Merriwell seemed to be stupefied by what he beheld. He recognized Frank, but it was clear that he did not recognize the man who was retreating from him and who soon again crouched uncomfortably in the chair.
“It’s all right, father. This is our mutual friend, Santenel.”
Frank said this with an unnatural and bitter laugh.