box that was filled with sawdust. He was pushed and pulled and hammered
and thumped till he was sore in every part of his body.

All through this ordeal not a word or murmur escaped his lips. His teeth
were set, and he felt that he had rather die than utter a sound that
betrayed pain or agitation.

This seemed to infuriate his assailants. They banged him about till he
could scarcely stand, and then, of a sudden, there was a great hush,
while a terrible voice croaked:

"Bring forth the guillotine!"

There was a bustle, and then the bandage was stripped from Frank's eyes,
he was tripped up, and a second later found himself lying helpless with
his neck in the socket of a mock guillotine. Above him was suspended a
huge gleaming knife that seemed to tremble, as if about to fall. At his
side was a fellow dressed in the somber garments of an executioner.

It was really a severe strain upon his nerves, but still his teeth were
clinched, and not a sound came from his lips.

"The knife is broken," whispered the mock executioner in Frank's ear,
"so it may accidentally fall and cut you."

"Have you any last message, fresh?" hoarsely whispered the mock
executioner. "There might be a fatal accident."

Frank made no reply save to wink tauntingly at the fellow.