“Mr. Kensington,” said Frank, with grim calmness, “this man, Morgan, has done his level best in trying to blackmail me out of one of my mines. This murder charge he talks about he has trumped up in hopes to frighten me; but I fancy he has found by this time that I am not so easily frightened. I can prove that he employed ruffians to jump my claim—to seize these new mines. We were forced to defend it with firearms. Morgan himself tried to have me treacherously shot, but he was not the kind of a man to deal with the ruffians he had employed, and he fell into a trap, from which he has now somehow escaped. He was captured and carried off by those same ruffians of his, whose object it was to hold him until he should pay a handsome sum for his liberty. Either he has managed to escape or he has paid the money demanded by those rascals.”
Morgan laughed.
“It is not possible, Mr. Kensington, that you will believe such a ridiculous story. I give you my word—the word of a gentleman and a man of business and honor—that the whole thing is a fabrication.”
“Morgan,” said Frank, “I propose to make this statement public just as you have heard it from my lips. If it is not true, you can have me arrested immediately for criminal libel. I dare you to have me arrested! If you do, I shall prove every word of what I have just said and show you up as the black-hearted rascal you really are. Instead of having me arrested, it is more than likely that you will employ some ruffian to shoot at my back. I’ll guarantee you will never try it yourself. If I were to step out here now and make a similar charge against Mr. Kensington, what would be the result?”
“By thunder!” burst from Kensington, “I’d shoot you on sight!”
“Exactly,” nodded Frank. “And so would Macklyn Morgan if the statement were false and if he dared.”
Morgan snapped his fingers.
“I consider you of too little consequence to resort to any such method. I am not a man who shoots; I’m a man who crushes. Frank Merriwell, you may fancy you have the best of me, but I tell you now that I will crush you like an eggshell.”
As he said this his usually mild and benevolent face was transformed until it took on a fierce and vengeful look, which fully betrayed his true character. Quickly lifting his hand, Merry pointed an accusing finger straight at Morgan’s face.
“Look at him, Mr. Kensington!” he directed. “Now you see him as he is beneath the surface. This is the real Macklyn Morgan. Ordinarily he is a wolf in sheep’s clothing, and it is only the clothing he reveals to those with whom he has dealings.”