Frank Merriwell's Trust
Never Say Die
9781465647696
188 pages
Library of Alexandria
Overview
“Jack Diamond—am I dreaming?” Frank Merriwell uttered the exclamation. He was in front of the Hoffman House, in New York. Three young men in evening dress had just left the hotel, and were about to enter a cab that had drawn up to the curb for them. Frank stared in astonishment at one of them. He was a slender, clean-cut, handsome fellow. “Jack Diamond!” he repeated; “can it be? Why, I supposed he was in London!” One of the men, his silk hat thrust recklessly back on his curly yellow hair, was speaking to the driver. The other, with a mustache black as midnight, was holding the door open for the third to enter the cab. Frank sprang forward. “Diamond!” he called, “is that you?” The youth who was already half-way into the cab drew back and turned round. “Who is it?” he asked, his voice sounding a trifle thick and unnatural. Frank was before him. It was eleven o’clock at night, but the bright lights of Broadway made it almost like day. “Merriwell!” exclaimed the young fellow in the evening suit and opera-coat. “Is that you?” “Sure as you live!” cried Frank, with outstretched hand. “But I thought I was dreaming. I wasn’t sure it was you.” Their hands met, while Diamond’s two companions looked on in silence, as if not quite pleased. “Man alive!” came from Frank, “I thought you on the other side of the pond. What does this mean?” “It means that I’m back here,” said Jack. “But I supposed you in New Haven. How do you happen to be here?” “Various things have combined to keep me here since I came down from college. The story is too long for me to tell now, but I’ve had some rather interesting adventures.” “Well, old man, I’m right glad to see you again. Let me introduce my friends. Mr. Herrick, Mr. Merriwell; Mr. Madison, Mr. Merriwell.” Herrick was the older of the two, and the possessor of the black mustache. Madison had a smooth, almost boyish face, with a head of curly yellow hair. Frank took an instant dislike to Herrick, who had the air of a rounder. Madison seemed more like a rather gay young fellow, although there was a dissipated look on his face and his eyes met Frank’s with an effort. Frank could see that these men had been drinking, although Herrick gave little evidence of it. The latter shook hands politely, simply repeating Frank’s name; but Madison grasped Merry’s hand, crying: “Glad to know you, Mr. Merriwell. Glad to know anybody who is Jack Diamond’s friend. Let’s have a drink.”
