CHAPTER XIV.

IN THE BROTHERHOOD’S POWER.

“I want to quest you an askion—I mean, I want to ask you a question,” said Rattleton, speaking to Diamond one evening four days later.

They were alone in a room at the hotel where they were stopping.

“All right,” said the Virginian gloomily. “Ask away, but I don’t know that I’ll be able to answer it.”

“What I’d like to know,” said Harry, “is what ails Frank Merriwell.”

“Well, you have come to the wrong place to find out,” said the Virginian.

“You know something is the matter with him?”

“Yes, anybody can see that.”

“Even Browning knows it now.”

“I have known it for some time, and I have tried to find out, but I might as well not.”

“He has been so queer since the time when that red star fell on his plate in the restaurant.”

“He was queer before that. He had not been like himself in two days.”

“But he was not as he is now.”

“No,” confessed Jack.

“Now he talks of a black band of assassins, a metal ball that holds the fate of Dreyfus, and of the time between the falling of the red star and the death that must follow. By Jove! Diamond, I am afraid something is the matter with Merry’s upper deck!”

“You mean that his mind is affected?”

“Yes. What do you think?”

“I don’t know what to think.”

“And he has not remained in the hotel much of any but a little while nights since the star came to him.”

“And one night he did not come in till three o’clock in the morning. Oh, yes, it is strange!”

“He never smiles any more. He is like a man contemplating death.”

“Or fighting it. There is a look of determination on his face, and he has said over and over that he must bring the Black Brothers to their end before ten days expire, or come to his own end. Now, who in the name of all things mysterious are the Black Brothers?”

“Ask me an easy one. I didn’t come to you to answer questions, anyhow!”

“He does not sleep,” declared Diamond. “Night after night I awakened repeated, only to find him wide-awake. Perhaps he will be pacing the floor, but even if he is in bed, I discover he is wide-awake. He acts as if he feared some terrible danger, and yet sought to overcome it.”

“But why doesn’t he tell us about it?”

“That’s it,” nodded Harry; “why doesn’t he? It’s not like him to be so secretive.”

“Surely he can trust some of us, if he can trust anybody. I have tried to find out something from him, and I have failed.”

“Same here.”

“He has said several times that he will tell soon, but soon has not come yet.”

“I move that we get hold of him and make him tell.”

“If you will suggest a way by which we may force Frank Merriwell to talk when he has resolved to keep his mouth shut, your suggestion will be worth considering.”

They stared at each other in silence, puzzling over the strange affair.

“He clings to that star,” muttered Diamond. “But that is not all, for I have seen him staring at a small metal ball, which he kept turning over and over in his fingers. He seemed to be hypnotized with the thing. Once I asked him what the thing was, and what do you suppose he answered?”

“Give it up. You tell.”

“One word.”

“What word?”

“Justice! Now tell me what he meant by that, if you can! Tell me why that tiny ball should contain justice!”

“Don’t!” cried Harry. “Didn’t I say I came to ask you questions? Here you are shooting them at me one after another.”

“Well, I’ve longed to shoot them at somebody for some time.”

“Jack.”

“What?”

“I am beginning to fear it’s really true that Frank is going daffy! You know there’s something queer about his father and mother. It’s said his father was a most eccentric man, and his mother was a delicate little woman. Frank has been altogether too brilliant! I’m afraid, Diamond, that our comrade is getting nutty.”

“I won’t believe it!” exclaimed the Virginian, in hot rebellion at the thought. “I won’t believe that splendid fellow can be destroyed in such a manner! I won’t believe that brilliant mind can be clouded! Don’t speak of it again!”

“You will not believe, and yet you fear. Where do you suppose he is now?”

“I haven’t the least idea.”

At that very moment Frank Merriwell was a helpless captive in the hands of the dreaded Black Brothers!

* * * * *

Around Frank Merriwell were stone walls. He was standing in the midst of a cellar, with his back bound to a pillar. At one end of the cellar was a wooden door; at the other end was a flight of stairs. Around Frank stood seven men, all dressed in black cloaks and hoods.

Frank had made a desperate attempt to hunt down the Black Brothers, but the result had been that he had fallen into their clutches. But a few moments before he had been bound to the pillar. His hat and coat were gone, for he had not succumbed without a struggle. The leader of the band stepped forward.

“At last, my brothers,” he said, in a deep voice, “we have captured the one most dangerous to us and to the honor of France. He is in our power, and we can destroy him.”

“We can,” said the others, in unison.

“But first,” said the chief, “we must find on him the precious ball that contains one-half of the torn document that proved the innocence of Dreyfus.”

At last Frank knew what the metal ball contained. The chief began to search Merry, and he soon found the ball and brought it forth. A muttering exclamation of triumph and satisfaction escaped the lips of the others as their leader held up the tiny ball.

“Here it is!” he cried. “At last the fate of Dreyfus is in our grasp!”

There were exclamations of satisfaction.

“I will open it,” said the chief. “The paper shall be removed and destroyed at once.”

He examined the ball closely and then pressed hard on a certain spot. Immediately it flew open in his hands!

Then there was a cry of anger and fury from the lips of the man.

“A thousand fiends!” he shouted. “It is empty!”

The hollow ball did not contain the torn paper they had expected to find!

“Empty?” gasped the others.

“Yes! It has been opened, and the paper has been removed!”

The captive bound to the pillar laughed. They turned on him in fury.

“You found the way to open the ball, and you removed the paper!” snarled the chief. “Tell us where it is, you American meddler!”

“You are entirely wrong,” coolly said Frank. “I am certain the ball has not been opened since it came into my possession, and I know nothing of the paper it contained.”

“Don’t lie!”

“I am not lying.”

“What shall we do with him, brothers?” asked the chief.

There was a sudden swishing ring of steel, and seven bright swords came leaping from their scabbards into the hands of their owners.

“We must destroy him!” said the hooded band.

Seven swords were pointed at Frank’s breast.

“For the honor of France he must die!” declared the chief. “When I have counted to three, each man shall plunge his sword through the captive’s body!”

He was not given an opportunity to count. There came a sudden thundering and hammering at the door. Then there was a summons to open in the name of France.

“The gendarmes!” gasped the Black Brothers. “They have tracked us here! They have located us at last!”

Bang! bang! bang!

The hammering at the door was furious and terrible.

Crash!—the door was falling!

In a moment the seven members of the murderous band took to flight, escaping from the cellar by the other door, and when the officers came swarming down the stairs, they found no one to arrest, but were greeted politely and cheerfully by the young American who stood with his back bound against a pillar in the middle of the cellar.