“I don’t want anything more,” said the girl, rising. “But der drinks were ordered, an’ dey’ll have ter be paid fer,” declared the man, in an ugly manner. “Here is your pay,” said Frank, flinging down a piece of money. “Come, Miss Blaney; we’ll try to find your mother.” They started to leave the room, but before they had crossed the floor three men appeared in the doorway. Mr. Gallagher was one of them, and he pointed at Frank, saying: “Dere’s yer meat, gents!” The others were Lester Vance and Reginald, the blackmailer! “Those are the men who wanted me to decoy you into a dive!” whispered Daisy Blaney, in great alarm. “You are in a bad scrape, Frank Merriwell!” Both the rascals uttered exclamations of satisfaction on seeing Frank. “We’ve got him!” cried Vance, triumphantly. “Let’s fix him so he’ll not be pretty enough to play the hero on the stage again for a month!” “Oh, we’ll fix him!” laughed the other man, showing his teeth. “He’ll be easy,” sneered Gallagher. “He drinks sarsaparilla!” Then the two men sprang at Frank, crying: “Spotter! Fly cop! Spy!” That cry was enough to create a sensation in the room. Merry met their assault, and he quickly got a crack at Vance that sent the fellow spinning. A hot fight ensued, but Frank was more than a match for the two men. He seemed to avoid their worst blows, and the way he got back at them filled Daisy Blaney with unutterable satisfaction. “Well, he’s a bird, Gallagher, if he does drink sarsaparilla!” she cried. “He can eat you!” That infuriated the red-headed fellow, and he plunged into the conflict. He took Frank by surprise, and got in a blow that staggered Merry for a moment. “Dat fresh eat me!” howled Gallagher. “Well, I guess nit. He’s a soft t’ing, an’ I can do him wid me hands tied behind——” Just then Frank got at Mr. Gallagher. He feinted, leading the fellow to lift his guard, and then Merry drove in a sledge-hammer blow over the heart that caused the red-headed chap to collapse and lay gasping and groaning on the floor. It is possible Frank would have come off with flying colors, but the men had been given the impression that he was a spotter or spy who had been sent there for the purpose of making the club trouble, and now at least a dozen persons sailed into him. Before such an onslaught he was unable to stand. He was beaten to his knees, and he would have been trampled under their feet in a few seconds more. Then it was that a woman literally tore her way into the heart of the crowd, pushed and beat them back from Frank, and stood over him with a small revolver in her hand, screaming: “Cowards! Are there no real men among you? Back! This gun is loaded, and, by Heaven! I’ll shoot the first one who tries to touch him!” “It’s Queen Mab!” exclaimed several, and they fell back before her. Frank staggered to his feet. One look he took at the woman, and he saw she was the one who had sought to aid in blackmailing him.