CHAPTER XXVI.
THE MYSTERY OF THE RING Frank did not glance back till he turned onto another street, and then he saw the man in black standing quite still where they had parted.
The reddish glow of the sunset was behind the man, on which his black figure stood out like a silhouette, the cloak and cape making him slightly resemble a gigantic bat.
The boy shivered a little as he passed beyond the view of the mysterious stranger.
"That man makes my blood cold," he murmured.

"There is something decidedly awe-inspiring about him.

Somehow, I do not believe I have seen the last of him." Frank was right; he had not seen the last of the man in black.
Thinking of what had happened, Frank soon came to the conclusion that the man was mad, or else there was some mystery about the ring that was not known to the possessor.
Why had the stranger been so desirous of knowing how the ring came into Frank's possession?
True he had said that he always wished to know the history of such rings as he collected; but Frank had refused distinctly to sell the ring, and still the man had seemed very desirous of obtaining information concerning it.
Why had he asked the name of Frank's father?
These questions presented themselves to the boy for consideration, and he remembered how, on hearing the name, the stranger had confessed that it was unfamiliar to him.
Frank was thinking deeply of these things, when a familiar voice called: "Hello, Frank! Are you going past without speaking ?" He started and looked up, finding himself in front of Inza's home.

It was a fine, old-fashioned house, built years and years ago, and an iron fence surrounded the front lawn.

Inza was at the gate, a pretty pout on her face.
The young cadet instantly lifted his cap, as he smilingly retorted: "I did not see you there, Miss Burrage." "Oh, bother your 'Miss Burrage!'" she exclaimed.