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Mansion of Mystery

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<h2 id="id01903" style="margin-top: 4em">CHAPTER XXIV</h2> <h5 id="id01904">ONE AGAINST MANY</h5> Surrounded by his enemies, Adam Adams stood in the center of the stone room under the old mill, speculating upon what was to happen next. He saw that the men were thoroughly aroused and ready for any crime. Although all were masked by the hoods over their heads, each showed his rage and temper by his movements and his tone of voice. "Well, now you are in our power, what have you to say for yourself?" came from Matlock Styles, after a pause. "What do you want me to say?" returned the detective. "You have the best of the game just now, so it would seem." "You're right—and we mean to keep it; eh, boys?" "That's so," answered several. "As a spy, he must suffer the fate of a spy," put in one of the number. "Unless he consents to join us," added another. "I'd never trust this bloody rascal," broke in Matlock Styles. "He's too sharp for us. He's a detective." "If you don't mind telling, what is your business down here, Matlock Styles?" asked Adam Adams. He thought it best to put on a bold front, even with matters looking as black as they did. "Ha! So you think you know me?" questioned the Englishman harshly. "Of course, I know you." "Well—it don't matter much—now," was the significant return. "Are you transacting business down here?" "Don't you know?" "I do not." "In that case, it's best to keep you ignorant." "That's right, don't tell him a thing," came from one of the men who had first caught the detective. "I want to know why you followed me up?" continued Matlock Styles. "You'll find it to your interest to answer me." "I might answer as you have done and say it is best to keep you in ignorance. But I won't do it. I followed you up because I think you were connected with the Langmore murders." At this Matlock Styles started, but quickly recovered. "What made you think that?" "Certain things I discovered around the mansion." "Bah! That shows how you detectives often miss it. I was not near the Langmore house when the murders were committed." "You can prove that?" questioned Adam Adams curiously. "Of course I can. I was over to Stony Hill with my team, doing some trading. I stopped at the tavern and at the hardware store, and had quite a chat with several people there. I left home at eight o'clock in the morning and didn't get back until one o'clock in the afternoon. If you had taken the trouble you could easily have found out that what I have told you is the truth." "You can prove that you were at Stony Hill from ten to twelve that morning?" "I can easily do it. You can ask Doc Mason, at the hardware shop, Sam Ross at the tavern, and Dick Stout at the stables, besides a dozen others. Why, I was even talking to Mr. Anderson, the minister. He is thinking of buying a horse from me." "That detective ain't going to prove anything," broke in one of the men. "That's right," came from another. "He has got to take his medicine as a spy." "Of course," said Matlock Styles. "I only wanted to satisfy his curiosity. Maybe he'll die feeling easier now." His cold-blooded way of speaking made a chill run down Adam Adams' backbone. He was beginning to see the Englishman in a new light. The man was a master of deception, not as clumsy in thought and action as he assumed to be. And he was as heartless as a stone. "Would you murder me?" asked the detective. "It is the rule of our order that no man who acts the spy on us shall get away to tell of what he has discovered. How did you get away after I put you in that other room in the dark?" "It was an easy trick." "Won't you explain?" "I might, but it would hinder my getting away in the present instance." "You'll not get away again, never fear." "Perhaps he didn't come alone!" exclaimed one of the other men. "He may have others with him, and they may have helped him to escape in the first place." "He was alone when he came to the farm," answered the Englishman. And then he added: "Bind him, and Number Three and Number Four shall remain on guard to watch him." "Where shall we take him?" questioned Number Four. "Take him to the last chamber. But blindfold him first. He has seen enough already." In a moment Adam Adams was seized and bound in such a fashion that he could scarcely move a hand or a foot. Then a bag was placed over his head, with the eye-holes to the back, so that he could see absolutely nothing. He was led away, through a door opposite to the one he had entered and along a stone passageway. When the party came to a halt they were in a stone chamber, not over twelve feet square. Here the detective was tied fast to a ring in the wall and the two men sat down on a bench to guard him, lighting pipes and smoking in the meanwhile. "Are you going to keep me blindfolded?" asked the detective. "We are," was the surly response. "For how long?" "Until we get orders to do otherwise." "Matlock Styles is your master, is he?" "He is our chief. But you needn't to ask any questions about him." "I don't intend to, but if you'll take this off my head I'll tell you something worth knowing," went on Adam Adams smoothly. "Is this a game?" growled the fellow, known as Number Three. "Because if it is, I warn you it won't work. We've got pistols and we can shoot." "How can I play any game on you, tied up in this fashion? No, I want to see a little and get more air—and I want to get square on Matlock Styles." The two guards consulted together and finally came to the conclusion to remove the head covering. The men had a lantern with them and one glance around showed the detective to what a stronghold he had been brought. "Now, what have you got to say about Matlock?" asked one of the men. "You say he is your chief. Have you any idea as to whether he is treating you fairly?" "Why do you ask that?" "Well, perhaps it is nothing to me, but if I was taking the risks you take I'd want all that was coming to me." "We get our share." "How do you know? I once exposed a gang of counterfeiters in Maine and I found that the chief, Bill Davidson, was getting the lion share of the returns. More than that, when the exposure came, Davidson tried his best to get out of it by turning State's evidence." "And did he get out?" asked one of the men, becoming interested. "No, he did not. I would not allow it. I got two of the other men to tell the truth, and Davidson got twenty years." "And what of the other men?" "One got scared and ran away and the authorities let him slide. The other man was not prosecuted. The rest of the gang, four of them, got from five to twelve years each." "Are you a government detective?" "Not exactly, although I occasionally work for the government. Here is another thing I want you two fellows to know. The government has been hot-footed after your counterfeits ever since they were first marketed." "Humph, they ain't found out much." "You are mistaken, they have found out a great deal. I am only at one end of this game, and I must say I have put my foot into it bad." "That's right," commented Number Three. He was a small-built man and evidently of a vicious temper. "I am sorry in more ways than one," continued the detective, not appearing to notice the interruption. "I'd like to get out of this mess and get ahead of the other fellows working on this case. It would mean great credit to me and a big reward besides. The gang is bound to be rounded up very soon now, and when one or two are caught they'll tell on the others. If I could get somebody to help me out of this scrape, and put me next to the whole game, I'd pay him well and see that he got out with a whole skin in the bargain." "Look here, you can't bribe me, so don't try it!" growled Number Three. "I'm in this game to a finish, see? I never got caught yet and I don't intend to begin now." "All counterfeiters get caught sooner or later." Adam Adams directed his words especially to Number Four, a big-boned young man, who was plainly nervous. The fellow fumbled with his pipe but made no reply. "I always help the man who helps me," went on the detective. "And I am so well known in my profession that my word counts for a great deal. I can save a man if he will only put his trust in me. I have done it many a time." "Ah, I don't want to hear your fairy stories," growled Number Three, but Number Four merely shrugged his shoulders, knocked his pipe clean and restored the article to his pocket. The detective continued to talk, in a low and earnest manner. He was really pleading for his life, for he realized that it was not Matlock Styles' intention to let him escape again. As soon as the counterfeiters were sure the coast was clear outside, they would turn again to the prisoner and settle his fate. Thus an hour passed and then came a low whistle. A minute later Matlock Styles entered the stone chamber. "We'll get to business again," he said shortly. "We have no time to spare." "What are you going to do next?" asked Number Four, and Adam Adams thought he detected a tremor in the tones. "We are going to draw lots as to who is to dispose of the prisoner." "How is he to be killed?" asked Number Three. "That can be decided by the man who draws the red ball," was the Englishman's cold-blooded response. <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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