Barney and Hans did not turn up on the following morning as soon as Frank expected they would, and as he had forgotten to ask where they boarded, he could not go to find them.

Merriwell had spent a restless, almost a sleepless night. But, although his face was pale, he seemed as full of energy as ever.

He had conceived a plan by which, with Barney’s aid, he fancied he might find Inza. But Barney—where was he?

It was past nine o’clock when the Irish lad came tearing up to the hotel, followed by Hans, who was puffing and blowing like a porpoise, his eyes bulging from his head, his face expressing the wildest excitement.

“Frankie!” gasped Barney.

“Vrankie!” panted Hans.

“What is it?” asked Frank, seeing something unusual had happened.

“It’s news, we hiv’, me b’y!”

“Yah! id vas news we haf!”

“News!” exclaimed Frank, “what sort of news? Have you found Inza?”

“It’s not found her yit we hiv’, me b’y, but we’ll foind her soon, or Oi’ll ate me boots!”

“Yah! and I shall make a square meal mit mine coat off!”

Frank grasped Barney by the shoulder.

“You have found a clew—is that it? Why didn’t you come to me sooner?”

“Begorra, it’s a bit loait we stayed up last night, Frankie, an’ Oi overslipt this morning. As for this Dutch chase, he nivver would, wake up at all, at all, av it wur not fer me. He would slape roight on fer a wake.”

“Oxscuce me,” said Hans. “No wake in mine. Vhat you took me for—an Irishmans, aind’t id?”

“Tell me what it is you have found out,” cried Frank, sharply.

With frantic haste Barney tore something from his pocket and waved it wildly in the air.

“Here it is, me b’y!” he shouted.

“Yah, thar it vas!” squealed Hans.

“What is it? Give it to me!” commanded Frank.

Then he snatched the object from Barney’s hands.

It was a letter.

“Inza’s writing!” said Frank, hoarsely, as he glanced at it. “I would know it anywhere! A letter to you, Barney! When did you receive this?”

“In th’ mornin’ mail, me b’y, afther Oi got up. So ye say it is well Oi overslipt mysilf, or Oi would not have bin there to recave th’ mail whin it was delivered.”

The envelope had been torn open in a ragged manner, showing Barney had opened it with great haste.

Frank lost no time in drawing forth the letter. In a moment he was reading it. It ran as follows:

“Dear Barney: I am writing this on the sly, hoping to find an opportunity to mail it to you. I am to be taken from the city in the morning by my father and this horrid Lord Stanford. How I despise him! But he seems to have plenty of money, and father is all taken up with him. Somehow, I fancy he has not as much money as he pretends to have. I am sure he thinks me an heiress, although I have told him a hundred times I am not. Father, however, has caused him to think we are very well to do, financially, and that is enough to lead the scheming scoundrel on. It seems to make no difference to him when I tell him how much I dislike him. He simply laughs and says I will get over that by and by when we are married. That will never be. I would not marry him if he were the last man in the world—so there!

“But I am forgetting to tell you what I started to say. Lord Stanford has bought a yacht, and he is going to take us away on it to-morrow morning. I have refused to go. Father says I must. Oh, dear! I wish I had some one who could help me escape from this horrid Englishman. If Frank Merriwell were here—dear old Frank! I could call on him. Oh, what would I give to see him now? But he is far away—so far away.

“If I could get another good chance, I would run away. I may get a chance. I am afraid you cannot help me again, for you have been watched. To-night I heard Lord Stanford tell father where you were, and that is how I know your address.

“Stanford’s yacht is somewhere out toward North Beach or Black Point. I know this from overhearing his talk with father. In the morning, unless I am fortunate enough to give them the slip, he will take me on board for the cruise. Where they are going I do not know. Oh, if you could aid me to get away from them once more; but I know it is too much to ask you to try this again. If I had been able to reach my aunt in Sacramento, I think she would have persuaded father to drop his scheme of marrying me to Lord Stanford.

“Good-by, Barney. You were always Frank’s stanchest friend and admirer, and that is why I have thought so much of you and trusted you so fully. Dear Frank, where can he be? Oh, wouldn’t he give it to this horrid Englishman if he were here and knew the truth? He would not be afraid of a hundred Lord Stanfords. He never was afraid of anything in his life! I dreamed of him last night, and I thought he had come to aid me. When I awakened and found it was only a dream, I cried myself to sleep again.

“Oh, Barney! father came so near catching me writing this letter just now! I was barely able to conceal it from him in time. He asked me what I was doing, and I fibbed by saying, ‘nothing at all, father.’ He was so suspicious, and I am taking desperate chances in adding these few lines. I shall try to bribe the bell boy to post this letter for me, and I hope it will reach you all right. Farewell, Inza.”

To the astonishment of both Barney and Hans the reading of this letter did not seem to excite Frank at all. There was a slight movement of the muscles of his face when Inza mentioned him, but that was all.

When he had finished, he folded the letter quickly and put it into his pocket.

“Barney,” he said, sharply, “order a cab without delay. Have it at the door in five minutes.”

“All right, me b’y!” cried Barney, and he made a rush to obey,

Frank disappeared in the other direction, and Hans was left alone.

“Well, I vender vere I vas at,” said the Dutch boy, as he stared around him in a bewildered manner. “Vat vas it Vrankie’s going to done alretty yet? It don’t took him more than vive hours to make oop his mind he vas going to do someding. I pet me your life he yas going to git after dot Lord Stanford like a kioodle dog after a pone.”

Before five minutes had passed Frank came rushing from the hotel and found Barney waiting at the door, while the cab was standing near the curb.

“Here yes are, me b’y,” cried the Irish lad.

“Good!” exclaimed Frank, with satisfaction.

Then he addressed the driver.

“How far is it to North Beach?” he asked.

“Two miles, sir,” was the answer.

“Can you make it in twenty minutes?”

“I doubt it, sir.”

“Here is five dollars,” said Frank, handing the driver the money. “Get me to North Beach in twenty minutes and you shall have five more.”

The man seized the money eagerly, and then asked:

“What part of North Beach do you want to go to, Sir?”

“I don’t know,” confessed Merry.

The driver looked surprised.

“Don’t know!” he exclaimed in a puzzled way. “Well, that is strange.”

“Is Black Point anywhere near North Beach?” asked Frank, hurriedly.

“Sure,” nodded the driver.

“Then take us out that way,” ordered Frank, as he bundled Barney into the cab, followed himself and slammed the door.

The driver whipped up his horses, and away they went with a rattlety-bump just as Hans came waddling out of the hotel, crying for them to hold on.

Frank looked at his watch.

“Five minutes of ten,” he said. “We shall get there at a quarter after ten. Even that may be too late.”

“Howly Mowses!” exclaimed Barney. “It’s the divvil’s own rush ye do be in, an’ ye don’t same to be in a hurry, ayther. But how are we going to foind Lord Stanford’s yacht, afther we get there, Frankie? Oi’d loike to have yez explain.”

“That’s something—I can’t tell—yet,” acknowledged Frank, as the cab dashed around a corner and pitched them into a heap against one side. “We’ll have to—hunt for—it.”

“Musha! musha!” gasped the Irish lad. “It’s a sure thing thot droiver manes to earn the other foive dollars.”

For Barney it was a somewhat exciting ride at first, as the street was filled with cars, carriages and trucks, each one of which seemed trying to get to some destination regardless of all the others. In and out, here and there, dodging in front of a car, narrowly missing the wheel of a truck, slinking through a narrow space between two heavy teams, turning to the right, turning to the left, on rattled the cab. The boys were thrown about as if they had been seated in a small boat that was at the mercy of an angry sea.

At length the streets were less obstructed, and the driver made greater speed. He wielded the whip mercilessly.

“This is fun aloive,” gasped Barney. “Oi’ll not hiv’ a whole bone in me body whin Oi git there.”

Frank said nothing, but looked at his watch, after which he nodded in a satisfied manner.

“Is it fast enough fer yez—we are going—Frankie?” asked Barney, with a bit of sarcasm in his voice.

“If it is only two miles to North Beach we will get there in less than fifteen minutes,” said Frank.

“But it’s did we may be whin we arroive, me b’y.”

Crack! crack! crack! sounded the driver’s whip, each snap being like the report of a pistol. Clatter! clatter! co-lat-ter! sounded the hoofs of the galloping horses.

“Oi’ve played football a little in me loife,” said Barney, as he picked himself up from the bottom of the cab, only to be thrown down again with greater violence, “but Oi’ll admit this takes th’ cake. Football is not in it, at all, at all.”

Still Frank was silent. Now he held his watch in his hand his eyes fastened upon it. Montgomery Avenue was reached, and they turned into it.

At the corner of the next street they nearly ran down another carriage. By a sharp turn to the right, the driver whirled alongside of the cab into which he had nearly crashed.

Looking from the window, Frank gazed directly into the window of the other cab.

A cry escaped his lips:

“Inza—there she is!”

There was an answering cry, and the face of a beautiful girl appeared at the window of the other cab.

“Frank!” she almost screamed. “Frank, is it you?”

Then a pair of hands grasped her, and pulled her back from view.

But Frank had seen enough, and now his very heart was on fire with excitement. Inza—he had found her.