“If I could recall the name of that girl, I’d feel better,” Frank declared. “I don’t remember when I’ve ever forgotten a name before this. But I cannot even remember under what circumstances we previously met, though I am certain there was something very striking about it. It is possible I may never have known her name, and still——” “Still, she knew yours.” “Yes.” “The man—do you remember him?” Merry shook his head. “I looked at him closely, and I’m sure I never saw him before. He is an utter stranger to me.” “And he seemed to blame you for something—what was it? He seemed somehow to connect you with the girl.” “I know it, and that is part of the mystery, Jack. As a rule, I enjoy mysteries, but there is something unpleasant in this one, and I do not like it much. If it had not been for the crowd and the public place, I’d made an attempt to get something out of him. But I could not do it there.” “We might follow——” “A good idea,” nodded Frank, as they turned into Twenty-fifth Street. “Let’s see if we cannot overtake him.” But the man, like the girl, had vanished. ------------------------------------------------------------------------ CHAPTER VIII FRANK FINDS HIMSELF PURSUED. Frank Merriwell had been detained in New York far longer than he intended when he left New Haven, and even now he felt a reluctance to go back, though it seemed that an unseen power was drawing him. He had been able to rescue Inza from great peril, he had protected her father from probable arrest, had been in time to hold back Jack Diamond from a reckless plunge into dissipation caused by the coldness of Juliet Reynolds, and had saved young Collins, a stranger, from disgrace and suicide. Now it seemed that his mission in New York must be completed. Now he could return to college for the final months he was to spend there. He thought of his old home that had been lost to him through the folly of his guardian, Professor Scotch, and he was seized by a desire to revisit it. “If I had a little more time, I’d do so,” he decided. “But I can’t do it now. I wonder who owns the old place. My money is gone, and I could not buy it back now.” Merriwell had not yet been able to communicate with his father. “He could buy back the old place,” thought Merry, “and he would do so if I asked him. It would be a fine home for us, and we both feel the need of a home. I’ll suggest the idea to him.” These thoughts of home brought strange fancies to him. He remembered that he had once dreamed of sitting at his own fireside, with another who was to be his companion for life. He had looked up from the paper he was reading, and in his vision, his dream, he had gazed at the sweet face of his wife, the face of———— Was it Elsie, or Inza?