Part 34 (1/2)
”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 b.l.o.o.d.y 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 b.l.o.o.d.y 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.
”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 antic.i.p.ated. 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 b.l.o.o.d.y 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.”