At this moment something happened that filled Dade with unspeakable satisfaction.

d.i.c.k Starbright looked into the room, saw Morgan, and hurried toward him. d.i.c.k's face was pale, and he looked greatly concerned.

"What are you doing, Dade?" he demanded, with a touch of anger. "Been looking round for you. Was afraid I'd find you at a bar. And you're drinking! Is this the way you----"

"Now, cut it right there," interrupted Morgan. "Smell of this! Taste it!

It's lemonade. I can't explain how I happened here. No time. Something doing. I want you to hustle back to the hotel and tell Frank that I'm here. Tell him I'm about to be introduced to a man by the name of Hagan.

I don't know who this Hagan is, but I have my suspicions. Tell him I'll try to hold Mr. Hagan right here long enough for him to arrive. He's good at following anything up. If it's the right Hagan, Merry may find some one else by shadowing him. Now skip. Don't waste a second."

"But----"

"I tell you to skip! Hagan may be here any moment. Wouldn't have him see you for anything. Don't want him to know I've spoken to a soul since.

That's right! Dig! You'll have to hurry."

Starbright was somewhat bewildered, but he followed Dade's directions and hastened from the Iroquois.

A few moments later Cavendale returned and announced that "Mr. Harrigan"

would be right down.

Five minutes after that a stout, florid-faced man walked into the room, saw Cavendale and Morgan, and advanced toward them.

"Mr. Harrigan," said Cavendale, "I want you to meet a particular friend of mine, Mr. Morgan."

"Glad to know you, Mr. Morgan," declared Harrigan, as he shook hands with Dade. "What's in the wind, Wallace? You insisted that I should come down right away."

"Because I know you are anxious to get hold of another young man on whom you can rely implicitly, and I believe Morgan is the man you want. I know him. He's a hustler. I give you my word that he's the very man for you."

"You know him well, do you, Wallace? Of course there are plenty of young men we can get, but we're looking for the right one. If you say Mr.

Morgan is----"

"I do. I give you my word for it."

"That is enough. Your word goes with me, but, of course, Mr. Morgan will have to see the chief. He leaves Buffalo in the morning, and to-night is the last opportunity to see him here."

"But hold on," remonstrated Dade. "I'd like to know what this thing is that I'm going into. I haven't been able to get anything definite out of Cavendale. Will you kindly clear it up for me, Mr. Harrigan? I'm not going to plunge into anything, no matter what the inducement, with my eyes blindfolded."

"Quite right, me boy," nodded Harrigan. "That's wisdom, and I like it."

Then he began to talk of great railroad projects and rich mines, and kept it up in a rapid, yet rambling, manner, apparently explaining fully, but actually making no explanation at all. All that Dade could get from his talk was that the business involved mighty projects in railroading and mining, and that all concerned in carrying the things through would reap rich rewards.

"But still I'm in the dark," protested Morgan. "I may be dull, but I confess that I need a little more light on this matter before I plunge."

Cavendale and Harrigan exchanged glances.

"The thing to do," said Harrigan, "is to have you see the chief. He'll make it clear."

Dade demurred. He had not yet seen anything of Merriwell, although it seemed that Frank had been given plenty of time to arrive. He plied his companions with questions, sparring for more time.

And while he was doing so a door behind Harrigan's back swung open a little. It was enough to give Morgan a glimpse of Merriwell outside.

Frank made a signal, and then the door closed.

Immediately Morgan seemed suddenly to agree to the proposals of his companions.

"Oh, all right," he said carelessly. "If you won't make the matter clear to me, then take me to this gentleman you call the chief. Perhaps he'll enlighten me."

"He will, me lad," nodded Harrigan. "Come on. We'll call a cab."

"Then he's not stopping in this hotel?"

"Never a bit of it," said Harrigan. "He has a prejudice against hotels.

He's stopping with a friend at a private house."

They went to the office, where a cab was ordered.

As they left the Iroquois and entered the cab Dade looked round in vain for a glimpse of Frank, but he was not to be seen.

It was a long drive through the streets of Buffalo. At first Dade tried to keep track of the course, but soon the many turns and changes of direction confused him, and he gave it up.

They stopped at last before a small, detached house near the outskirts of the city. The house seemed dark and deserted.

Morgan began to wonder if he had been wise in accompanying the men, but he quickly decided that there could be little or no reason for doing personal injury to him, and so he unhesitatingly followed Cavendale up the steps, while Harrigan came behind.

The cab rumbled away.

Cavendale pressed the push-b.u.t.ton of the electric doorbell in a peculiar manner. After a time there sounded from the inner side of the door an odd knocking. Cavendale answered in a similar manner.

There was a sound of shooting bolts, but the rattle of a chain followed, and the door was opened only a short distance. Plainly the chain was still on.

Cavendale whispered to some one within. The door closed again, the chain rattled once more, the door re-opened, and into the house of mystery they walked.

The hand of Cavendale guided Dade through the dark hall, through a room beyond and finally into still another room, which was dimly lighted.

"Here we are," said Cavendale, with affected cheerfulness. "Let's have these lights up. The chief was abed, but he'll be down directly."

The lights were turned up. The room was plainly furnished, and had but one window. That window was so heavily curtained that no gleam of light could be seen from it by any one on the outside.

Hagan pretended to joke and talk in a lively manner, but his jokes were forced and mirthless.

After a few minutes a soft step sounded outside, and a striking-looking man in black entered the room. This man was slender and graceful, his figure being that of a young man, but his face was one that proclaimed him nearing seventy, and his hair was white as driven snow. One glance at his eyes was enough for Dade, who knew instantly that they were the same eyes he had seen peering through the transom of the Bowery hotel.

This was Frank Merriwell's deadly enemy, a monster who would hesitate at no crime in order to injure the youth he so bitterly hated. This was the man who had twice attempted to destroy the life of Inza Burrage. This was the man who had poisoned Watson Scott at the Waldorf and had nearly brought about the death of Warren Hatch in an automobile smash-up.

Morgan had good nerves. He managed to keep his face impa.s.sive as he was introduced by Hagan, who said:

"Mr. Brown, this is Mr. Morgan, a young man who is willing to join us and work with us when he is satisfied that the business is legitimate and the reward sufficient."

"I am very glad to know you, Mr. Morgan," said "Brown," clasping Dade's hand and looking into his eyes.