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Page 64
"But what does it mean?"
"It means that I have found you out. You are the murderer of Mr. and
Mrs. Langmore."
"What!"
For the instant Adam Adams was truly surprised. It was such a turn of
affairs as he had not anticipated. He looked at Matlock Styles keenly.
Could the Englishman really mean what he said? He certainly appeared
sincere enough.
"You have made a great mistake, sir," said the detective. "I know
nothing more of the murders than I have already related."
"I think differently, my fine fellow."
"What makes you imagine I am guilty?"
"Never mind that now."
"Why, I can prove an _alibi_."
"Then you'll have to prove it, and a bloody strong one too, before I
let you go. I've seen you sneaking around before. That's a wig you
are wearing. Bart, bind him, and do it bloomin' tight, too."
"I'll do it tight enough," answered the other man, pocketing his
pistol. "Hold out your hands," he went on to the detective.
Adam Adams looked around to see if there was some means of escape. But
he realized that between the two men and the somewhat savage mastiff he
was squarely cornered.
"I suppose I'll have to submit," he said. "But let me tell you that
you are making a big mistake and it will cost you dear if you make me
submit to this indignity. I'll sue you for a good round sum."
At this Matlock Styles winced. Evidently he was one who did not like
to have his pocketbook touched. But then he stiffened again.
"I am willing to run the risk. Go ahead, Bart."
Adam Adams was compelled to hold out his hands and to his astonishment,
not to say chagrin, his arms and also his legs were tightly bound.
"Going to search him?" asked the fellow called Bart.
"Of course," answered Matlock Styles and went through the detective's
pockets one after the other. Fortunately Adam Adams had but little
with him outside of a roll of bankbills and the material for several
disguises. Matlock Styles allowed him to keep his money but placed the
disguises on the table.
"That looks as if you were an honest man," said he with a sneer.
"Honest men don't go around in this fashion. You're the man, beyond a
bloody doubt, and I am going to hand you over to the police. Nelson!"
At the call the mastiff came up and looked inquiringly at his master.
"Sit down in that chair," continued the Englishman to Adam Adams,
shoving him backward on a seat. "Now, Nelson, watch him. Watch him,
old boy. Don't let him get up." And the dog growled In response.
The Englishman then motioned to the other man, and the pair went out
together, closing the door after them. Listening, the detective heard
a murmur of voices in the kitchen of the house and then all became
quiet.
Adam Adams was angry, and that anger was directed entirely at himself.
In the easiest possible manner he had allowed himself to be outwitted
and exposed.
Could the Englishman be honest in what he said, or was he playing a
deep game? That was a question which could not as yet be answered. If
the fellow was honest he was most likely now getting ready to take his
prisoner to the Sidham lockup. The absurdity of such a move compelled
Adam Adams to smile bitterly.
To escape was out of the question. He could not slip from the cords
which bound him, and at his slightest move the mastiff growled and
showed an inclination to leap at his throat. So the detective
considered discretion the better part of valor and remained quiet.
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