This confession of the dying man was taken down by a stenographer, written out in full, signed by Jones, and sworn to before witnesses.
At Frank’s advice, Hilda had secured the services of an able lawyer, and he was present when the confession was made. He congratulated her when it was over and the paper was in his possession.
“This fixes it very nicely,” he declared. “You will obtain your rights now, Miss Dugan. Of course, the duty on the diamonds must be paid, but the Government will be unable to hold them, for you were innocent of any intent to do wrong, and you set yourself right by turning over the diamonds to the authorities. I am informed there was over twenty thousand dollars’ worth of stones, so you are a rich girl.”
“And all because I took the advice of Frank Merriwell,” said she. “If I had not, it would not have come out so well.”
In the hospital she found Tom Stevens and saw that everything possible was done for him. He did not know her, but he told her of a beautiful girl far away in Maine whom he loved, but who cared nothing for him. Her eyes were red from unshed tears when she left him.
That evening Frank called on Hilda. He brought Jack Diamond along, and the Virginian was afterward forced to confess that the girl from Maine was as charming in her manners and conversation as she had appeared when he first saw her on Twenty-third Street.
“Yes,” Jack told himself, “she is much like Juliet, only she lacks a certain refinement Juliet possesses.”
“How much like Inza she is! I don’t think I ever noticed it before; but she lacks a certain subtle charm that Inza possesses—something that seems to belong to Inza alone.”
“Jack Diamond is handsome, but he cannot compare with Frank Merriwell. Frank is the handsomest fellow in all the world, and in the future, as in the past, he’ll always be my hero.”
------------------------------------------------------------------------
The command had come like a pistol-shot. The glass fell instantly, smashing on the polished bar, over which flowed the amber-hued liquid.
Dick Starbright, pale as snow, turned as he gasped the name.
There was a world of surprise and reproach in Frank’s voice.
Dick Starbright, standing at the bar of the Fifth Avenue Hotel, had lifted the glass of whisky to his lips when Frank stepped into the room and uttered the sharp command. The big Yale freshman dropped his glass as if it had suddenly burned his fingers.