“I like not your lack of politeness, boy. I am not the one to answer questions. It is you who should explain, but I will talk with the man whom you call professor.” “I don’t know whether you will or not.” “I demand to see him.” “You will have to find him.” “Is he not in those rooms?” “No.” “Let me see.” The manner of Achmet plainly denoted that he did not believe Dick. “We have engaged those rooms and paid in advance for them,” said Merriwell, still holding himself in check. “We are entitled to privacy in them, and we have no intention of admitting strange and suspicious visitors, especially a Turk of your questionable behavior.” “You refuse me admittance?” “Decidedly.” Aziz Achmet made a quick sign to the black giant. Instantly the Nubian strode forward. Dick made a move to retreat, but the arm of the black man darted out and one powerful hand seized the lad. Merriwell had not overestimated the probable strength of the tattooed man, for, with scarcely an effort, it seemed, the boy was lifted from his feet and placed to one side. Achmet quickly advanced to the door, flung it open, and entered the room. Brad Buckhart had caught the hum of voices outside and was crossing the room to investigate when he found himself face to face with the Turk. “Waugh!” exclaimed the Texan, in surprise. “Pardon, boy,” said Achmet, still maintaining his quiet manner and soft speech. “I would speak with the professor.” “Is that so?” said Brad. “Well, whoever invited you to walk in all unceremonious and chirklike? It strikes me that you are some forward in your deportment. Where’s my pard?” “Here!” cried Dick, who had been released by the Nubian, and who now hastened into the room. “This man forced an entrance. He has dogged us here, Brad.” “Dogged is a proper word for it, I reckon!” grated the Texan, beginning to bridle. “Forced his way in, did he? Well, I judge we’ll just shoot him out on his neck and teach him a bit of common decency!” He proceeded to strip off his coat in a very businesslike manner. “Hold!” commanded Achmet. “You will regret it, you infidel whelp, if you place your vile hands on me!” “Whoop!” roared the Westerner. “We’ll sure see about that right away! Come on, partner!” But now the Nubian stalked into the room, apparently ready to take a hand in the encounter, and Achmet called attention to him. “This man alone,” he declared, “is more than the equal of twenty boys. He once slew a strong man with a single blow of his fist. If you lift a finger against me he will rend you. Be careful!” In spite of this warning Buckhart would have pitched in; but Dick had better judgment and hastened to restrain his friend. “The black man is dangerous, Brad,” he said, in a low tone. “Unless we use deadly weapons, he can master us alone. Besides that, we do not wish to kick up an uproar unless forced to do so. Steady, old man!” “Whoop!” cried Brad. “This business is making me sizzle a heap!”