“Tell me how you found your way into that yard,” commanded Martin Brattle.
“That is something for you to find out,” he said.
“It makes little difference. To-night ends your career in France. You shall die, Frank Merriwell, and you will never tell anything you may have learned to anybody else.”
“Bah!” exclaimed Merry. “You boast; but I doubt if you have the nerve to carry out your threats.”
“You will not doubt long. Let me tell you something. Do you see these men about me?”
“They are the most desperate cutthroats in all Paris. There is not one of them who has not killed his man. They live by robbery and murder.”
“Well, I see you have chosen fit associates, Brattle.”
“Don’t get funny!” growled the man. “I don’t like it!”
“You may not like it, but it is the truth. They are fit associates for you. You have lived by robbery, and I doubt not that you will be executed for murder.”
“Better keep a civil tongue, Merriwell!” snarled Brattle. “You are in my power, and I can make you die a thousand deaths!”
“I have but one life, and so you can make me die but one death.”
Brattle stood with his hands on his hips, scowling down at his victim. The masked ruffians were farther back. They remained silent, and it is doubtful if any of them understood what was being said.
“You do not know me, Frank Merriwell. I have sworn to get even with you for all you have cost me.”
“I have known others to swear such an oath. One who did so, a pal of yours, was drowned in England. Drowning is too easy a death for you.”
“Go on! You are digging your own grave with your words!”
“A little while ago you said you had decided to kill me, anyhow. What difference does it make?”
“Before I kill you you must tell me where to find Elsie Bellwood. In what part of Paris is she?”
“I am not lying, Brattle. You have fooled yourself. Elsie did not come to Paris at all. She is in England.”
“You are at liberty to believe what you like. It makes no difference to me. I am not telling you this to aid you in any way, but simply to show you that you have made a fool of yourself by chasing on here to France, thinking you were following up Elsie Bellwood.”
Brattle turned to one of the men and asked him in French for his knife. When he turned back, he held a long, glittering blade in his fingers.