u had better come, sir," he said.

"Oh, I'll go!" grated the Irishman, giving Merry a savage glare. "I'll
make no trouble about that. Good day to ye, Mr. Merriwell. Make the best
of your success now, but remember that Hagan is no easy mark, and he'll
get a rap at you yet."

His face purple with rage, the schemer strode out of the room and soon
left the hospital.

Outside the gate he paused, removed his hat, and mopped his forehead
with his handkerchief. Although it was nipping cold, he seemed to be
burning with the heat of an inward furnace.

"I'll walk a bit to cool off," he said, and set out, his head down, his
face grim, his manner absorbed.

As he was crossing a street a cab whirled up beside him and stopped. He
swore at the driver for his carelessness, but his profanity ended
abruptly when the door of the cab swung open and he saw a pair of
midnight eyes looking at him.

"By all the saints," gasped Bantry Hagan, actually staggering, "it is
the dead alive again!"

The man in the cab lifted a hand and motioned to him. In a low, musical
voice, he said:

"Senor Hagan, get in quickly. Come."

A moment the Irishman paused, seeming to hesitate; then he stepped
forward and entered the cab.

The door slammed, the driver whipped up his horses, and the cab rumbled
away.

CHAPTER XXVI.

A SURPRISE FOR FIVE THUGS.

Frank left the hospital on foot. He might have taken a car, but he
preferred to walk. Always when thinking deeply he chose to walk, and he
often became utterly oblivious to his surroundings, even on the crowded
streets of a city.

He now set out without regard to direction. His talk with the Mexican
boy had set him to thinking of Porfias del Norte and Alvarez Lazaro,
between whom there had seemed to be some mysterious connecting link. The
nature of that link was something to puzzle over, even though both men
were dead.

Many times Frank had thought of the strange declaration of Lazaro that
he was the avenger of Del Norte, even that he was Del Norte himself.
Such an assertion seemed that of a madman.

Still Lazaro was in appearance Del Norte grown old, his face
time-furrowed, his black hair turned snowy white. More than that, for
all of Lazaro's aged appearance, he had seemed to possess the vigor and
vim of a very young man. His eyes burned with the fire of youth, and
they were exactly like the eyes of Del Norte. His voice also was the
voice of Del Norte.

Dusk was gathering in the str