nt of losing all his assumed
self-control. His hands shook, and he made a move as if he would seize
her roughly. He checked this movement just in time.

"Your lover, eh?" he said. "Well, what sort of a lover is he who meets
you in this sort of a manner at night? Why doesn't he see you like a
man, instead of sneaking around this way? Your lover, girl? What right
have you to have a lover other than myself? You call yourself Lizette,
and you speak with an accent, but I know you are Bessie King. I did
think I might be mistaken, but now I'm positive there is no mistake. I
am right. You are Bessie!"

She threw back her head and laughed softly.

"I hear ze madame say you are not well, monsieur," she said. "I theenk
ze madame is right. It must be een your head. I am vary, vary sorree for
you. You should not become so much excited."

"I knew you were a wonderful actress, Bessie, but you astonish me still.
When you lived on the Flying Dollars Ranch you took delight in acting a
part."

"What is ze Flying Dollairs Ranch?"

He paid no heed to the question.

"Yes, you were a great actress even then," he went on. "Colonel King had
a beautiful daughter, and he was supposed to have a son--a harum-scarum,
reckless lad, who went galloping over the ranges with the cowboys, roped
cattle, took part in round-ups, and did all sorts of things like that.
This boy was known as Tom King. Colonel King's foreman, Injun Jack, had
a grudge against Frank Merriwell and swore to kill him. He found his
opportunity and attempted to shoot Merriwell. In order to save
Merriwell's life young Tom King shot Injun Jack. It was thought that
Jack had been instantly killed. But while Colonel King lay dying a few
hours later and Tom King was weeping over his father, Injun Jack
appeared and made a revelation that astounded every one. The boy who had
been known by that name was Bessie King, the colonel's daughter. You are
that girl."

Again Lizette tried to force a laugh.

"It is so strange a crazee notion," she said.

"Why keep it up?" demanded Berlin. "You must realize you cannot fool me,
even though, by the change in your appearance, by doing your hair in a
peculiar manner, penciling your eyebrows and staining your skin, you
have deceived Merriwell himself. He did not know you as I knew you. Look
at me, Bessie. Have your eyes shown you no change in me? Have you not
seen how altered I have become since your disappearance? I never knew
how much I loved yo