“Don’t fling that at me! A pretty woman will make a fool of a man any day, and it is impossible to find twelve men who will convict a pretty woman of crime if they can help it. Adventuresses know it, and they profit by it. If they are arrested, they work all their arts on judge and jury, and in nine cases out of ten, they go scot-free. The old fools on the jury ogle the pretty prisoner, and sometimes they openly flirt with her. They sympathize with her because she is young and pretty, and, when the evidence is so strong they cannot acquit her, they disagree. Yes, men are fools!” Frank nodded. “That being the case,” he said, “I think you will have to admit that I was wise in letting the woman go.” “Perhaps so,” acknowledged Hodge; “but I hated to see her get off. She was the chief one in a pretty mean piece of business.” “I do not think she was the chief one.” “Then who——” “Vance.” “Well, you let him off after he had robbed you.” “He returned every dollar of the money, and I did not lose anything. A man in my place can’t afford to spend time in lawsuits. It would ruin my plans. Vance seemed thankful to get away, and I hoped we’d not hear anything from him again.” “You hoped in vain.” “Yes.” “We’ll hear from him again.” “Perhaps.” “If we do——” “It will be unfortunate for Lester Vance,” said Merry. “He has reached the limit.” “By gum!” cried Gallup, staring at Frank. “He wants to keep out of the way naow! When Frank Merriwell looks that way, he’s out fer business.” Hodge also saw the look on Merry’s face, and he recognized it as the peculiar expression Frank wore whenever his patience was exhausted and he had decided to crush an enemy. And remembering things which had happened in the past, Bart knew well enough that Frank could strike an enemy with terrible effect when he wished to do so. Frank was on his way to the theater that afternoon, swinging along at a lively pace, paying very little attention to anybody, when somebody called: “Mr. Merriwell.” He looked up quickly, and saw approaching him a rather good-looking girl of about nineteen. She was rather gaudily attired, and he noticed instantly that she carried some pinks. “Great Scott!” muttered Merry. “It’s another one of them!” He waited, although he really felt like running away. The girl came forward smiling. There was something rather saucy in her manner, and he saw there was paint on her cheeks and rouge on her lips. As soon as he discovered this, his desire to hasten away increased. “Why,” laughed the girl, “you do not seem a bit glad to see me. Perhaps you did not receive my note.” “I do not know you, miss,” said Merry. “I do not think we have been introduced.” “Introduced! Ha! ha! ha! What do you care! I’ll introduce myself. I’m Daisy Blaney.” “Miss Blaney, don’t you think you are rather foolish to speak to a stranger like this?”