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Page 63
"You came right from the brook to my place?"
"Well, not exactly. I got tangled up in the woods before I got on the
path that brought me here."
"See anything strange around the Langmore house--any tracks or anything
like that?"
"Why do you ask that? I thought you were sure Miss Langmore was
guilty."
"So I am, but a fellow makes some bloomin' mistakes sometimes. I am
not interested very much though," continued Matlock Styles, and gave a
yawn.
"I saw nothing out of the ordinary. There were a good many footprints."
"Running this way?"
"Running every way, I thought. What kind of a man was this Barry
Langmore?"
"A fairly good sort. He wanted everything that was coming to him, and
so did his wife. She was a tartar and so was the girl. I shouldn't
have wanted to live in the house with them."
At that moment another man appeared at the doorway.
"Hullo! got company?" he called out.
"Not exactly, Bart," answered Matlock Styles. "Excuse me for a
moment," he continued, to the detective, and passed out of the room and
to the kitchen with the newcomer.
He was gone for several minutes and during that time Adam Adams
finished his lunch and took a good look at the room he occupied. There
was nothing unusual about the apartment and his survey was finished
before the Englishman returned.
"Now I think I'll pay you and be on my way," said Adam Adams, rising.
There seemed to be no excuse for his lingering longer. "How much do I
owe you?"
"Not a blasted farthing."
"Then I am much obliged. Will you have a smoke?" and Adam Adams handed
forth a couple of choice Havana cigars.
"I don't know as I care to smoke, Mr.--You didn't give me your name."
"Robert Dixon. And yours?"
"Matlock Styles. I don't care to smoke."
"Bart!"
At the call the other man came in from the kitchen. To his surprise
Adam Adams saw that he carried a rope in one hand and a pistol in the
other. He was followed by the mastiff Nelson.
"Don't you dare to stir, you bloody rascal!" went on Matlock Styles to
the detective.
"Why, what's the matter now?" queried Adam Adams. The turn of affairs
puzzled him not a little.
"You'll soon see what's the matter," said the man called Bart.
"I must say I don't understand you."
"Maybe you'll understand when you are a prisoner," put in Matlock
Styles.
"A prisoner? What for?"
"You know well enough."
"I am entirely in the dark. See here, is this a hold-up?"
"Yes, for we are going to hold you up, you bloody villain," said the
Englishman, with a chuckle. "Don't dare to resist, or it will be the
worse for you," and he drew a pistol from his pocket.
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