“No!”
“Look at me!”
He could not resist. Slowly he turned his eyes on those of Frank.
Skelding looked on in breathless, wondering silence. He saw that a great struggle was taking place between these two, and he knew well enough who would be the victor.
The fierceness died out of the face and eyes of the French youth. His power of resistance faded and diminished. His contorted features relaxed, and a sleepy expression came over his eyes that had been so wild and fierce. Then he stood there quietly, making no move.
“Let him go, Skelding,” said Merriwell, in a calm tone.
Gene stepped back, but held himself ready in case Bertrand broke out again. Merry had taken his hands from the fellow. Now he pointed to a chair, saying:
“Sit down there!”
Seeming unable to offer any resistance, the fellow obeyed as meekly as a mastered dog. Then Frank seemed to turn some attention to himself. His face showed wonderment, as if he were not a little bewildered.