“You—you whelp!” panted the man against the wall.
“You were very polite a short time ago,” said Frank. “Even then, it seemed to me that your politeness was artificial. The real ruffian showed through the veneering.”
“Fool!” gurgled the Frenchman, once more.
“I came near being fooled,” admitted Frank; “but I tumbled to you just in time. I wish you to make as much haste as possible, for I do long to kick you!”
“Not till I have delivered the ball into the proper hands, I trust.”
“What, after the wretched failures made by the Strangler and yourself? Oh, I am beginning to enjoy this, I assure you. I had thought Paris rather tame, but you have made it seem real lively, and have added zest to my visit here.”
De Villefort was at a loss for words. Never in all his life before this day had he encountered a person like this cool American lad. He realized now that Frank Merriwell was something more than a boy—was something more than an ordinary man.
“Come!” cried Frank commandingly; “get up! You are able to do so now.”
Merry walked to the door, and flung it open. With some difficulty, De Villefort struggled to his feet, aided by the partition. He sidled toward the door in a manner that was rather laughable, and Frank followed him up.
“You shall shed tears of blood for this!” snarled the Frenchman.
“All right,” cheerfully said Merry. “I’ll lay in a fresh supply of handkerchiefs, so that I may be ready for the sorrowful occasion.”
“Oh your threats are becoming tiresome! Walk out of the room like a man, not like a whipped dog. You are not giving me a fair chance to kick you.”
But the Frenchman suddenly turned, and ran out of the room so swiftly that Frank had no chance to kick him. Frank closed the door, with satisfaction.
When the boys returned, they were somewhat surprised to find Frank in rare spirits. He laughed and joked with them in his old-time manner, and again they were the jolly party of Yale students that had started out to “do” London and Paris. The struggle in Frank’s room had not disturbed Wellington Maybe, and no one in the hotel besides Merry himself knew anything about it.
Mr. Maybe complimented Frank on the manner in which he had stuck to study on the forenoon of such a beautiful day. Maybe took his meals in the hotel, but the boys were in the habit of eating wherever they chose, and their search after novelty took them to many places.
