At the same time, he pointed to a peculiar ring which Merriwell wore on the third finger of his left hand.
Frank drew back, looking the man over from head to feet.
"I beg your pardon, sir," he said, in a manner that was intended to repulse further advances.
But the man was not to be choked off thus easily.
"The ring," he repeated.

"I asked you where you obtained it." "I know you did," said the boy, coolly.
"Answer me!" sibilated the stranger, his brows darkening beneath the wide brim of the hat, and a gleam of fire showing in his eyes.

"Tell me the truth, boy!" "I don't know why I should answer you," said Frank.

"I do not know you, and I do not understand what right you have to ask me such a question." The man in black bit his lip, and hesitated.

After a moment, he forced a smile that was far from agreeable to see, although he plainly meant that it should reassure the boy, and, in a low tone, he rapidly said: "That ring is very odd, and it attracted my attention for that reason.
I am a great collector of curios, and especially of quaint and curious rings.