CHAPTER XVII
FRANK AND HIS JAILER
It was twenty minutes before Frank, waiting impatiently, heard the steps of his late companion ascending the stairs.
But the door was not unlocked. Instead, a slide was revealed, about eight inches square, through which his late traveling companion pushed a plate of cold meat and bread.
“Here’s something to eat,” he said; “take it.”
“Why do you lock me in?” demanded our hero.
“You can get along without knowing, I suppose,” said the other, with a sneer.
“I don’t mean to,” said Frank, firmly. “I demand an explanation. How long do you intend to keep me here?”
“I am sorry I can’t gratify your curiosity, but I don’t know myself.”
“Perhaps you think that I am rich, but I am not. I have no money. You can’t get anything out of me,” said Frank.