During the entire first half of the course there were four of the seven contestants who made a good showing. These were Rains, Merriwell, Hodge and one of the village boys.
Through it all Rains kept the lead, but the village lad was second until the turning point was nearly reached. Then Merriwell settled down to business and took second place, while Hodge pushed the village boy hard.
Rains' heart was full of triumph. Over and over he told himself:
"At last I have found something at which I can defeat Merriwell fairly!"
Rains believed he was safely in advance, and this delusion was not broken till the last half mile of the course was struck. Then he heard somebody's skates ringing close behind, and, looking over his shoulder, he saw Frank bearing down on him like the wind.
Paul's heart gave a great leap.
"By Jove!" he breathed. "That fellow means to press me! But he shall not come in first—he shall not!"
Then he strained every muscle, and, for a few seconds, the distance between them did not seem to diminish.
Frank, however, held steadily to that terrible speed, and Paul began to fear he could not stand it to the finish, for his head was beginning to grow unsteady, and there was a wild roaring in his ears. Through a bluish mist he saw the great crowd on the shore near the starting point, and he knew the eyes of hundreds were upon the contestants.
"I'll die before he shall pass me!" thought Rains.
And then, once more, he heard the skates of his rival ringing clear close at his elbow. One wild look he cast over his shoulder, and there was Merriwell, fearfully near—and gaining!
Paul's heart rose with a bursting sensation into his throat. He had seen that Merriwell's face bore a look of determination—nay, more, a look of confidence.
Oh, for the power to hold out to the end! Again he forced himself to spurt; but, as that mad burst of energy slackened, he felt, rather than saw, his rival reach his side.
Now a great cheer broke from the crowd of excited and delighted spectators, for the two boys were fairly abreast, and neither seemed able to gain another inch on the other.
Rains had shut his teeth, his nostrils were dilated, and his eyes wild in their sockets. The finish line was near, and he must cross it in advance—a yard, a foot, an inch!
But he little knew that Frank Merriwell had reserved for the last supreme moment enough strength to make a final spurt.
Now—now is the time for one or the other to forge ahead!
Another shout goes up:
"Merriwell! Merriwell! He's the winner! Hurrah!"
Frank had forged to the front; but, even as the cheer came from the crowd, he was seen to be flipped into the air, as if he had struck a spring-board, and he came down heavily on the ice. There was no time to recover.
Frank slid over the starting line, prostrate on the ice; but Paul Rains crossed it upright, and at least three yards in advance.
Rains had won!
An accident had prevented Frank from winning, for his skate had struck a flaw in the ice, and he had been thrown with stunning force.
Great was the excitement. Merriwell was picked up and carried to the shore, where a dash of cold water brought him round.
Rains was quite used up for a while, but he soon recovered. His friends crowded round him to offer congratulations.
"You beat Merriwell this time, Paul," they said.
"But he fell," said Paul, bitterly. "That makes the victory anything but satisfactory. However, I will race him again at any time and any place."
Little did he think how soon they would race again.
Within a short time after the finish of the race, a sudden cry of alarm and terror went up from the throng.
"Look—look there! Two girls have broken through the ice! They will be drowned!"
At a certain point in the pond there was a dangerous bit of ice, where some springs deep down at the bottom continually bubbled up and kept the water alive, so the ice did not form solidly. It was supposed that every one knew where this dangerous spot was, so no sign had been placed there.
Now, however, two girls had ventured upon it, and broken through.
"Who are they?"
"Inza Burrage and May Blossom!"
"Save them! save them!"
Several started toward the imperiled girls, but two forms darted out ahead of the rest, and another race between Paul Rains and Frank Merriwell had begun.
This time it was a race for life.
Shoulder to shoulder they started, and, for some seconds, they kept thus.
Then Frank began to forge ahead, for all that Paul was straining every muscle—was doing the very best that he could to save life.
The girls were seen clinging to the broken edge of the ice, which broke beneath them once or twice, but they managed to keep up in some way.
Wider and wider grew the distance between Merriwell and Rains, showing that the former was by far the faster skater in such a case as this.
As Frank drew near the girls, the ice broke again, and both went under.
He did not slacken speed, but, taking care to avoid them, skated straight into the water.
Clinging to each other, the girls came up; but they would have sunk again immediately if he had not been there to clutch them.
Treading water, he held them up, getting close to the ragged edge of the ice.
The water was fearfully cold, but he managed to keep his head out, knowing aid must come quickly.
Paul Rains slackened his speed as he came near the opening in the ice.
"Form a line—get hold of my feet!" he shouted.
Down upon his stomach he went, and he slid forward till he could reach out and grasp one of the girls.
There he lay till another lad clutched his feet, and still others grasped the feet of the one who had hold of Paul.
"Now, Merriwell," said Paul, "if you can break their clutch on each other, we can take 'em out one at a time."
With some difficulty the grasp of the half-drowned girls was broken. Paul held fast to one, and shouted:
"Pull away!"
He was drawn backward, and the girl was dragged from the water upon the ice.
Quickly she was passed to some one who carried her away to a place of warmth and safety, while Paul Rains crept back to the opening, and the other girl was rescued in a similar manner. Then Frank, nearly exhausted, was drawn out.
With Rains on one side, and Hodge on the other, Frank skated back to the shore, where the great crowd of spectators had witnessed the gallant rescue. How the crowd cheered and flung up their hats!
"Hurrah for Frank Merriwell!" was the roar that went up. "Hurrah!"
"Hurrah for Paul Rains! Hurrah!"
The man who had offered the badge of honor grasped the two lads by the hands, crying:
"You shall both have a badge of honor! This is true heroism, and you are both heroic lads!"
"Hurrah! hurrah! hurrah!" thundered the crowd.
Let us add here that neither Inza nor May suffered any particularly ill results from their plunge through the ice.
Between Inza and Frank the slight misunderstanding was easily adjusted, and May, in her innocent little heart, had never dreamed of "cutting out" her friend. She and Paul Rains afterward became very friendly.
Between Frank and Paul a rivalry continued to exist; but, for the most part, it was of a healthy, generous sort, and Merriwell retained his position as leader, having become more popular than before among the better class of boys at the academy.
"Boy, where did you get that ring?"
Frank Merriwell started and looked quickly at the man who had hoarsely hissed the question in his ear. At a glance he saw that the man was a stranger in Fardale village.
The stranger was dressed in black clothes, wore a cloak, with a cape, and had the brim of his hat slouched over his eyes, which were coal-black and piercing. He had a heavy black mustache and imperial, which gave him a rather savage expression, and, withal, he made a somewhat sinister figure.
The night mail at Fardale was not delivered at the academy till the following morning, and Frank had come to the village post office late that afternoon to obtain an expected letter from home, if it had arrived.
He had also hoped that, on his way to the post office, or in returning to the academy, he might catch a glimpse of Inza. Frank was now a welcome visitor at Inza's home, but, being governed by natural tact and delicacy, he did not wish to call too frequently, fearing Inza's parents might regard him as something of a bore.
Shortly after entering the village he had noticed the stranger in black, who seemed to be staring wonderingly at the boy. To Frank's surprise, this man followed him about.
Finally the stranger slipped softly to Frank's side, and hoarsely whispered the question with which this chapter opens. At the same time, he pointed to a peculiar ring which Merriwell wore on the third finger of his left hand.
Frank drew back, looking the man over from head to feet.
"I beg your pardon, sir," he said, in a manner that was intended to repulse further advances.
But the man was not to be choked off thus easily.
"The ring," he repeated. "I asked you where you obtained it."
"I know you did," said the boy, coolly.
"Answer me!" sibilated the stranger, his brows darkening beneath the wide brim of the hat, and a gleam of fire showing in his eyes. "Tell me the truth, boy!"
"I don't know why I should answer you," said Frank. "I do not know you, and I do not understand what right you have to ask me such a question."
The man in black bit his lip, and hesitated. After a moment, he forced a smile that was far from agreeable to see, although he plainly meant that it should reassure the boy, and, in a low tone, he rapidly said:
"That ring is very odd, and it attracted my attention for that reason. I am a great collector of curios, and especially of quaint and curious rings. I have traveled the world over in search of the quaint and curious, and I have a collection of nearly five hundred rings of all patterns, makes and values. This collecting of rings has become a fad, or mania, with me. Whenever I see an odd or peculiar ring, I am immediately seized by a great desire to possess it; but I always want to know its history. It enhances the value of a ring to know its history. I assure you that some rings have very queer histories, indeed."
Frank watched the man closely as he was speaking, and, although it was plain that the stranger was trying to secure the boy's confidence, Merriwell continued to regard him with suspicion and aversion. There was something about this person's dark face and sinister aspect that was extremely repulsive to the lad.
Once more the man smiled, as if making a desperate attempt to thaw the cool reserve of the boy; but he had begun in a very poor way, for Frank remained cold and distant.
"Some of my rings," went on the man in black, "have tales of bloodshed and murder connected with them, and these are interesting in their way. Some recall romances of blighted love or sundered hearts, and these tales are always interesting to the ladies who look over the collection. Some have been worn by great men or great ladies, and some have encircled the fingers of great villains or great criminals. You should understand why I desire to know the history of every ring that comes into my possession."
"Well," said Frank, quietly, "as there is not the slightest possibility that you will ever possess this ring, you can have very little interest in its history."
The stranger fell back a step, and then, with one hand eagerly outstretched, he exclaimed:
"You will sell it for a good price—of course you will?"
"No."
"Why, its real value is insignificant!"
"It is valuable to me."
"No jeweler will give you more than three or four dollars for it—possibly five."
"Well?"
"I will give you ten dollars for that ring."
"It is useless for you to offer me money for it, as I do not intend to sell it."
Frank turned as if he would move away, but he felt a hand clutch his shoulder with a grasp of iron, while the voice of the stranger almost snarled:
"Don't be a fool, boy! I want that ring, and I mean to have it at some price. I will give you twenty-five dollars for it."
"Take your hand off my shoulder, sir!"
"I'll give you thirty dollars."
"Take your hand off my shoulder, sir!"
"Forty dollars!"
"I have warned you twice to take your hand off my shoulder," came coldly from the lips of the boy, on whose face there was now a dangerous look. "I am going to warn you again, and if you do not obey, it will be the worse for you. Take your hand off my shoulder!"
There was a single moment of hesitation, and then the stranger obeyed; but the look on his face was not pleasant to see, and he hoarsely said:
"You are showing a great deal of authority for a stripling. These military schools spoil boys like you by making them think they are men before the fuzz grows on their faces."
There was no doubt in the lad's mind but he was dealing with a desperate man, and Frank fully realized that he had thoroughly aroused the stranger's anger. But Frank could not be bullied, and the man in black was very repulsive to him, for some reason.
Once more the boy started to walk away; but the man was quickly at his side, where he kept, again attempting to be persuasive, although it was plain that he longed to throttle the lad.
"What is the use of being unreasonable! I am willing to do the square thing. I have made you a magnificent offer for that ring, which I am anxious to possess."
"Far too anxious," muttered Frank.
"That is natural," declared the man, swiftly. "Did you ever collect stamps? If you have, you should know something of the mania that seizes upon a collector. It is thus with me. If I see an odd ring I cannot obtain, I feel as if I had been robbed of something that rightfully belongs to me."
He paused a moment in his talk, but Frank walked straight onward, saying nothing.
"I have offered you a ridiculous price for that ring," continued the man. "I cannot afford it, but my mind is set on having the ring. Already I have spent a fortune in my collections, and the time has come when I cannot fling money freely to the winds. Come now, young man, have a little sympathy with me, and sell me that ring."
Under certain circumstances these words might have melted Frank, who was not a cold-blooded lad, by any means; but there was something in the stranger's villainous aspect and repulsive manner that had turned the boy against the man in black and caused him to remain obdurate.
"I told you at first that it was useless to offer me money for this ring," said the boy. "I think you will begin to understand that I meant it."
"At least, you will tell me how it came in your possession?"
Frank hesitated. Surely there could be no harm in telling this, and it might enable him to get rid of the stranger, so he said:
"It was given to me by my mother."
"And your mother—how did she obtain it?" swiftly asked the stranger.
"My father gave it to her. I do not know how it came into his possession."
"Your father and mother——"
"Are dead."
"Ha! And you prize the ring because it was a present from your mother?"
"That is one reason."
"And there is another?"
"Yes."
"What?"
It suddenly struck Frank that he was talking altogether too much, and so he answered:
"I decline to say. I have already told you enough, and I beg you to excuse me. We will part here."
"First answer one more question. What was your father's name?"
"Charles Conrad Merriwell."
The man in black put a hand to his eyes, and seemed to be thinking for a moment. Beneath his breath he muttered:
"Merriwell, Merriwell—I do not know the name."
Then, dropping his hand, he said:
"I will make you one more offer for the ring. I will give you fifty dollars for it. See—here is the money. Don't be foolish—take it! You will never receive another such offer."
He had pulled out some bills, from which he quickly selected a fifty-dollar bank-note, which he tendered to Frank.
The boy drew away.
"You are wasting your time in offering me money for the ring. I am in earnest in declining to sell it. Good-day, sir."
He turned and walked swiftly away.
The baffled man in black stood staring after the lad, his forehead lowering and his white teeth showing a bit through his dark mustache.
"Refuse to sell the ring!" he grated, madly. "All right! I am not defeated. I will have it within a week!"
Frank did not glance back till he turned onto another street, and then he saw the man in black standing quite still where they had parted. The reddish glow of the sunset was behind the man, on which his black figure stood out like a silhouette, the cloak and cape making him slightly resemble a gigantic bat.
The boy shivered a little as he passed beyond the view of the mysterious stranger.
"That man makes my blood cold," he murmured. "There is something decidedly awe-inspiring about him. Somehow, I do not believe I have seen the last of him."
Frank was right; he had not seen the last of the man in black.
Thinking of what had happened, Frank soon came to the conclusion that the man was mad, or else there was some mystery about the ring that was not known to the possessor.
Why had the stranger been so desirous of knowing how the ring came into Frank's possession?
True he had said that he always wished to know the history of such rings as he collected; but Frank had refused distinctly to sell the ring, and still the man had seemed very desirous of obtaining information concerning it.
Why had he asked the name of Frank's father?
These questions presented themselves to the boy for consideration, and he remembered how, on hearing the name, the stranger had confessed that it was unfamiliar to him.
Frank was thinking deeply of these things, when a familiar voice called:
"Hello, Frank! Are you going past without speaking?"
He started and looked up, finding himself in front of Inza's home. It was a fine, old-fashioned house, built years and years ago, and an iron fence surrounded the front lawn. Inza was at the gate, a pretty pout on her face.
The young cadet instantly lifted his cap, as he smilingly retorted:
"I did not see you there, Miss Burrage."
"Oh, bother your 'Miss Burrage!'" she exclaimed. "You know it was Inza with you long ago—you promised to call me that. No wonder you didn't see me; you were going past with your head down, your eyes on the ground, and an expression of profound abstraction on your face. What in the world were you thinking of?"
"That's a mystery," said Frank, approaching the gate.
"Indeed!" and she lifted her eyebrows with a pretty Assumption of offended dignity. "A secret from me?"
"I did not say it was a secret; I said it was a mystery. I was thinking of the man in black."
"Mercy!" She gave a little shiver. "What is the man in black—some horrible ogre?"
"Well, I fancy he is ogre enough to give you the chills."
"What story did you find him in?"
"Oh, I didn't find him in a story; I met him in real life. I left him a few minutes ago."
"This is interesting!" she laughed. "Who is he? What's his name?"
"I don't know. Didn't I say he is a mystery?"
"Come, Frank, are you trying to tease me?"
"Not at all. I will tell you all I know about this singular man in black."
Then, leaning gracefully against one of the iron gateposts, he related his recent adventure with the unpleasant stranger. She listened with breathless interest, her eyes growing wider and wider, and an expression of alarm coming to her pretty face.
"Oh, Frank!" she exclaimed, when he had finished; "I know this terrible man is dangerous! He will do you harm!"
"Oh, I'm not afraid of that," declared the boy, lightly; "but I would give something to know what there is about this ring that makes him so desirous of possessing it."
He held up the ring for her to examine. It was an oddly twisted band of gold, looking like a writhing serpent. It was set with a peculiar black stone that seemed quite as hard as a diamond, for all that there were numerous marks and scratches on its smooth surface.
"It is a horrid ugly old ring," declared Inza. "Anybody must be crazy to offer fifty dollars for it."
"Unless it bears some value that is not apparent to one who does not know its secret."
"What value can it bear?"
"That is the mystery. Still, from my mother's words, I am sure my father prized this ring highly. When it came into his possession he was in Southern California or Mexico, and he sent it home to my mother at the earliest opportunity, writing her to be very choice of it, and not to lose it on her life, as it was very valuable. Now, my father never revealed the secret of this ring to my mother, if the ring has a secret; but I am sure that mother believed there was something mysterious about it, for, when she was dying, she gave it to me, telling me never to part with it. Of course I will not sell it."
"Of course not," nodded Inza; "but the horrid old thing may bring you trouble, instead of good."
"Oh, I don't think there is much danger of that."
"The man in black——"
"Will give over his attempt to obtain it when he really knows I will not part with it on any condition."
"He may; but his words, which you have repeated for me, make me believe he will do something desperate in order to get possession of it. You must look out for him—you must be on your guard constantly."
"Why, Inza!" laughed Frank, in astonishment; "I never heard you speak like this before. You really appear as if you felt a foreboding of some terrible thing."
"Perhaps I do," she said, very gravely, for a light-hearted girl.
Frank looked down at the ring on his hand. Surely it was an ugly trifle to make so much trouble.
"Do you see those fine lines on the surface of the stone?" he asked.
They were faintly visible to the naked eye.
"There is something peculiar about those lines," he said. "This stone is so hard that nothing seems to scratch it, and I am sure those lines were not made by the ring accidentally striking against hard objects. They were there when it came into my possession. I do not think another line or mark has been made upon it since I have owned it."
"That is odd."
"Odd! It is remarkable. It makes it appear that these lines were traced there with some instrument that could mark the stone, and that they have a secret meaning."
"Who knows? Possibly that is true."
"And it may be that the man in black can read their meaning."
The red light was dying out of the western sky, and the dusky shadows of advancing night were gathering in the village street, which was overhung by large dark elm trees. Standing by the gate, the boy and girl minded not the approach of darkness as they talked on.
Suddenly Inza uttered a cry and caught Frank's arm, pointing to the opposite side of the street, and excitedly whispering:
"Look—look there! Who is that man skulking along the walk over there?"
"By Jove! it is the man in black!" declared Frank.
It was in truth the mysterious man who was lingering on the opposite side of the street under the deeper shadows of the elms. That he was watching Frank quickly became evident, but he slowly walked away when he saw he was observed.
"What a villainous-looking creature he is!" said Inza, in a flutter of alarm.
"How could you tell at that distance when it is so dark?" half laughed Frank.
"Oh, it was his general appearance—his black clothes, and that strange cloak and cape."
To himself Frank confessed that the man had seemed rather more awe-inspiring when seen through the gathering darkness than he had appeared near at hand in the stronger light of sunset.
The stranger had moved along the street till swallowed by the darkness beneath the great trees, but something told the boy he was lingering at a distance—watching and waiting.
Despite his strong nerves, the boy felt a cold chill creep along his back. What desperate deed might not the mysterious man in black be contemplating?
The girl was no less impressed.
"Oh, Frank!" she exclaimed, looking up into his handsome face; "I know you are in danger—I am sure of it! That dreadful creature means to do you some injury!"
Seeing how distressed she was, Frank began to feel sorry that he had told her so much.
"You are nervous," he said. "I shouldn't have told you all this stuff about the ring and that man."
Her hand fell on his, which rested on the top of the iron gate.
"You did right in telling me," came softly from her lips. "Who should you have told if not me? We ought not to have secrets from each other."
"I do not fancy we have many secrets that we keep from each other, Inza," he murmured, leaning toward her over the gate. "You know how I have trusted you."
"And have I not trusted you, Frank? I have told you all my delightful little secrets, and I have not told yours to another soul. They say girls cannot keep secrets, but I think you will find out they can."
"Ah, Inza! you are not like other girls."
"Oh, yes, I am!" she laughed. "You think I am not, but I am. Perhaps I am a trifle too old for my years, as papa often says; but the terrible dangers you have rescued me from have been quite enough to add something to my age."
"In the face of every danger you have been brave as few girls could have been."
"That's flattery."
"It is the sincere, honest truth. Do you think I would attempt to flatter you?"
"Frank!"
Their hands met, and he suddenly leaned over the gate and kissed her, in the dusky twilight. She gave a little cry, as of surprise or dismay, retreating swiftly; but Frank clung to her hands, and she did not make a severe struggle to break away, although for a moment there was a playful mockery of a struggle.
Slowly he drew her back to the gate, but she timidly held away, as if she were really alarmed.
"How dare you, sir!" she exclaimed, with a toss of her head. "You are very bold!"
"I beg your pardon," he beseeched, with mock humbleness. "I will agree not to do it again—till I get another good chance."
"Really! How sacrificing you are! You are extremely free."
"Stolen sweets, you know, are the best. But truly, Inza, hadn't I a right to that?"
"A right, indeed! Why, to use a slang expression, that is cheek!"
"Never mind the cheek," he said, laughingly. "I prefer the lips."
And then, before she could divine his intention, he kissed her again.
This time she broke away in earnest.
"Good-night, sir," she called, from up the walk.
"Oh, wait a moment!" he implored. "You aren't going to leave me like this?"
"Oh, but I am."
"How can you!"
"You are getting altogether too free."
She seemed really angry, and a feeling of dismay came over the lad at the gate.
"Inza!"
She had paused
"Well, sir?"
"Don't go away angry, please! I know I had no right to steal those kisses, but I am willing to make amends."
"Oh, you are!" she said, wonderingly, and it seemed to Frank that she was struggling to keep back a burst of laughter. "How will you do it?"
"If you'll come here, I will give them back to you."
That was a master-stroke. A soft laugh came from her lips, and she returned:
"You are a saucy, cheeky fellow, and I am not coming back. Good-night."
"You are not angry?"
"What's the use to be angry with you!"
"Good-night, Inza."
"Good-night, Frank."
As he turned away down the walk, he saw her pause at the door and heard her softly call:
"Frank."
"Yes?"
"I don't like to think of you as a thief. I will take those kisses back some other time."
Then, with another ripple of laughter, she disappeared into the house.
Frank's heart was very light as he walked airily down the street. He had forgotten the man in black for the time, and he whistled a lively air, thinking of the charming girl he had left a few moments before.
It had now grown quite dark, for the moon had not yet risen; but there was a spring-time sweetness in the air, which was not yet enervated by the languorous heat of summer.
Frank passed beyond the limits of the village, where lights were twinkling from the windows of the houses, and he swung down the road toward the cove at a lively gait, still whistling.
At a certain point the road was lined with bushes, and not far away was the village cemetery.
Frank had reached this lonely locality, when, of a sudden, a feeling of uneasiness came over him. Somehow it seemed that he was in danger.
Then came a rustle in the bushes, and, the following moment, a dark form confronted the lad, blocking his path.
Frank recoiled, and through his mind flashed the thought:
"It is the man in black!"
At the same moment, the unknown sprang forward and clutched the lad, snarling:
"Give me that ring! I will have it! Give it up peaceably, or I will choke the breath out of your body! Don't shout! It will be the worse for you if you do!"
Right there and then the man in black met with a great surprise.
Frank grappled with the stranger, and, for some moments, they engaged in a fierce struggle. At length the boy got the best of it, and, as he threw the man, he gave his assailant a terrible upper-cut blow.
Having freed himself Frank took to his heels and ran down the road toward the academy.
Frank fancied he heard pursuing footsteps behind him, but the mysterious man might have spared himself the effort if he tried to overtake the lad, for Merriwell almost flew over the ground.
The lights from the windows of the barracks soon appeared through the trees, and Frank felt relieved when he was safely within the grounds with the academy buildings looming before him.
A short time later he entered his own room in the "Cock-loft," to find Bartley Hodge sitting with his feet on the table, smoking a cigarette and perusing an exciting detective story; but the feet went down to the floor like a flash, and the cigarette and book disappeared with magical swiftness as Frank came in.
"Oh!" said Hodge, with a sigh of relief; "it's you, is it, Merriwell? I thought it might be an inspector."
Frank laughed.
"It would have been rather bad for you if I had been an inspector, for you did not get that book and cigarette out of sight quick enough to fool anybody, and the air is full of smoke. You would have stood a good chance for chevrons next month if you had let cigarettes and novels alone and taken a little more care to avoid demerit."
"Never mind, old man," said Hodge, as he resumed the cigarette and brought forth the detective story again.
"You'll be a corporal sure, and that is glory enough for us. Don't preach. If you should start in on this yarn, you wouldn't give it up till you finished it."
"And that is exactly why I am not going to start in. I enjoy a good story as well as you do, but I cannot afford to read novels, now, and so I refuse to be tempted into looking into any of them."
"This is a hummer," declared Bart, enthusiastically. "It is full of mystery and murder and all that. Beagle Ben, the detective, is a corker! That fellow can look a man over and tell what he had for dinner by the expression around the corners of his mouth. He sees through a crook as easily as you can look through a plate-glass window. And the mysteries in this story are enough to give a fellow the nightmare. I wonder why such mysterious things never happen in real life?"
"Perhaps they do occasionally."
The way Frank spoke the words caused Bart to turn and look him over wonderingly.
"Hello!" he said. "What's struck you? You are breathing as if you had been running, but you're rather pale round the gills."
"I have had an adventure."
"You are always having adventures. You're the luckiest fellow alive."
"This adventure is somewhat out of the usual order," declared Frank. "It might furnish material for a detective story."
"Whew!" whistled the dark-haired lad. "Now you are making me curious. Reel it off for us."
Then Frank sat down and told Hodge the full particulars of his adventure with the mysterious man in black.
A look of wonder and delight grew on Bart's face as he listened, and, when the account was finished, he slapped his thigh, crying:
"By Jove, Merriwell, this is great! Why, such things do actually happen, don't they! Why do you suppose that man is so determined to obtain possession of that ugly old ring? Do you actually believe he is a collector of rings, with a mania for the quaint and curious?"
"It is possible, but, for some reason, I doubt it."
"So do I."
"He did not seem quite sincere in his manner of telling that story, and he was altogether too desperate in his determination to obtain the ring."
"That's right."
"Besides that, he wished to know how it came into my possession, and, when he learned my father's name, he declared he had never heard it before."
"What do you make out of that?"
"Well, it strikes me that this man recognized the ring as one he had seen before."
Bart nodded with satisfaction.
"Just the way I figured it out, old man!"
"He did not seem so anxious to learn the history of the ring, although he pretended that it was his wish to know the history of every ring that came into his possession. In this case he seemed far more anxious to discover how I came to have it."
"And so he must already know its history?"
"Yes."
"What do you know about it yourself, Frank?"
"Not much," was the serious reply. "You know I once told you that my father was much away from home, traveling in the West, where he claimed to have business interests, and it was not till after his death that we knew what his business actually was—that of a note broker—with a passion for gambling?"
"Yes, I remember all this."
"In his wanderings, father somehow got hold of that ring, and it is pretty certain that he considered it very valuable, for he sent it to mother, and wrote her to guard it faithfully, and not to let it part from her on any consideration. He said that he would come for it some day; but he never did. When mother died, she gave me the ring, telling me to keep it always. That is as much of the ring's history as is known to me."
"And that is just enough to make the thing a decided mystery. I have heard of magic rings used by East Indian fakirs and magicians. Perhaps this is one of those rings."
Frank smiled a bit, and shook his head.
"Hardly that, I think," he said. "From its appearance, I should say this ring was made by some crude workman in the West."
"In, that case, what can there be about it that is mysterious or valuable?"
"You have asked me something I cannot answer."
"Let's look at the thing."
Bart held out his hand, and Frank removed the ring from his finger, handing it over.
"It slips off altogether too easily," said Hodge. "I should think you would fear losing it."
"It does come off easy, and, for that reason, I have not worn it much till of late."
"Yes; I never noticed it on your hand till a short time ago."
"I have kept it among my valuables."
Hodge looked the ring all over, examining it slowly and carefully.
"There doesn't seem to be anything about it to make a fellow think it so very mysterious," he said, with a shade of disappointment in his voice.
"No."
"It is just a homely, twisted ring, with an old scratched black stone set in it."
"That's right."
"Perhaps the man in black is crazy."
"It is possible."
"In which case the mystery amounts to nothing."
For a few seconds the two lads sat staring at each other. Then Frank removed a pin from some hidden place, and held it toward Bart.
"Here," he said, "take this and see how easily you can scratch that stone."
Hodge took it, and attempted to scratch the black stone that was set in the ring.
"Why, the thing is hard as flint—yes, harder!" he exclaimed. "The pin will not leave a mark upon it, and it has already turned the point of the pin over."
"Still, as you said, the stone is scratched."
"What do you make of that?"
"It strikes me it was not scratched by accident."
Hodge started and whistled.
"Do you imagine these marks were made here intentionally and deliberately?"
"Doesn't it seem that way?"
"Well, it is not impossible."
"If they were made there deliberately and intentionally, cut by some instrument that could mark that hard stone, doesn't it stand to reason that the one who made them did not do all that work for nothing?"
"Of course."
"Then those marks may mean something."
"By jingoes! you are right!"
"This may be known to the man in black, which makes him so fierce to obtain the ring."
"Sure!"
Again the boys stared silently at each other, but there were traces of eager excitement on the faces of both.
"How are you going to find out what those marks mean, Frank?"
"That is a question easier asked than answered."
"Did you ever examine this stone under a microscope?"
"No."
"Then I advise you to do so without delay. These scratches are not very plain to the naked eye, but a microscope may reveal a great secret to you."
As Bart passed the ring back, Frank said:
"You are right. My curiosity is thoroughly aroused, and I will examine it under a magnifying glass at the earliest opportunity."
"Get leave to look at it under the big glass in the experimenting room."
"I will try it to-morrow."
Until very near taps the boys talked of the mystery of the ring, and that night both of them dreamed over and over of the ring and the sinister man in black.