Phebe was blushing crimson, but the roguish look was still in her eyes. Never in all her life had she looked prettier than in that moment of excitement and confusion. She lifted her hand and felt it grasped by Frank, and then, in dismay, she turned and fled, laughing to cover her agitation. She quickly disappeared, but her laugh rang in Merriwell's ears, for it was quite as bewitching as her roguish eyes. The landlord seemed to enjoy the agitation he had caused the girl, and he laughed again. In fact, he was quite a man to laugh. He urged Frank to remain to dinner, and Merry finally consented, although Jack and Bart, who were likewise invited, decided to return to the yacht. While they were talking, Moslof suddenly grasped Merriwell's arm, saying in his ear: "Here's the fellow you want to see." He turned Frank toward a person who had just entered the office. In a moment Merry advanced toward that person, confronted him, and sternly said: "So, sir, having failed to injure me in other ways, you have been lying about me! Well, it's quite like you, Snell!" "Merriwell?" gasped the other, recoiling and turning pale. "The dickens!" Frank and his old foe, Wat Snell, were again face to face. CHAPTER XII. SNELL IS FIRED. "So it's that sneak who has been telling yarns!" grated Bart Hodge. "I hope Merriwell will smash him!" "If he doesn't, I will!" muttered Jack Diamond. "I thought we had seen the last of him when we left Fardale." "I hoped so," confessed Hodge. "But I can't have a fight here," said the landlord, firmly. "It won't do." He seemed on the point of interfering between Frank and Wat, but Hodge said: "A word to Merriwell is enough, Mr. Drayben. He will be careful not to cause you any trouble." Mr. Drayben saw that Merriwell was holding himself in reserve, and he felt a sudden curiosity to know what would pass between the enemies who had met there in his hotel, so he did not speak to Frank at once. "Where is your fine friend, Mr. Parker Flynn, who you aided in your piratical attempt to seize my yacht?" asked Frank. Snell swallowed down a lump in his throat and made an effort to recover his composure. "The yacht belongs to Mr. Flynn," he said, huskily, his voice betraying his craven spirit. "You know better than that! If so, why didn't Flynn remain in Rockland and push the case against me? Why did he suddenly take to his heels when he learned that Benjamin, from whom I bought the _White Wings_, was in Rockland?" "Business called him back to Boston," faltered Snell. "And business called you out of Rockland in a hurry, too. But you stopped too soon. It would have been better for you if you had kept on going." Snell understood Merriwell's meaning and he quailed before the flashing eyes of the boy he had slandered. "Oh, you can't scare me with your threats!" he declared, in a weak manner. "I'm not afraid of you, Mr. Frank Merriwell."