“I know her face, but I have forgotten her name.”
“Bah! It will do you no good to lie!”
The fellow did his best to hurl Merry against the iron rail and pin him there.
“Look here, man,” said Frank, exasperated, “I want you to tell me that girl’s name. If you do that, I shall be satisfied.”
“She may have given you a false name. If so, all the better for her. Your stories and your sneers about her may not do her so much harm.”
Now Merry was more than ever satisfied that he had a maniac to deal with, and he kept constantly on his guard for any sudden move.
“Man alive!” he said, “I’ve never told any stories about the girl. I’ve never even known her well enough to sneer about her!”
“It’ll do you no good to lie now!” panted the man. “You are one of them! She told me about them? She met them in Boston, and they all wanted to make love to her. Her father was an old fool to let her go to Boston, but she would have her way and go. To take music-lessons, she said; but I know she took other lessons there. You were one of her instructors, and you whispered lying words of love to her. For those words you shall pay!”
With a quick wrench he had Frank against the rail, but Merry recovered and held him off, even though the man’s muscles were magnificent. Fortunately, the fellow was baffled by the muffling folds of the great coat which he wore, and for that reason Frank was able to handle him easier.
“Where does she live?” asked Merry; but the question seemed to enrage his assailant more than ever.