“It is the only thing you can do, Miss Dugan,” he said, at last. “I will go with you to the custom-house. The question will be solved there. We cannot solve it ourselves.”
She seemed to hesitate, but he talked to her calmly, and soon convinced her that it was the only way.
“I will take your advice,” she said, at last. “At least, Jones shall not have these gems.”
She closed the opening and hid the precious stones from view. The doll was wrapped in a cloak, and they prepared to leave the house, for Frank advised immediate action.
As they descended the steps to the sidewalk, a man who had been lurking near rushed upon Merry. Tossing the bundle to Hilda, Frank turned to meet the fellow, who cried:
“I have finished one of the devils to-night with his own knife, and now I’ll finish you before you complete your work of destruction!”
It was Tom Stevens. Frank barely avoided the fellow’s rush, and Stevens caught his foot somehow, plunging headlong against the stone steps as he fell. He lay still.
“He’s hurt!” cried Hilda.
“Stunned, probably,” said Frank. “We’ll send an officer to care for him. Let’s lose no time.”
So, leaving him there, they looked for an officer, whom they soon found and told him that a man had fallen and injured himself.