Matt inhaled deep breaths of the pine-scented air. The ozone held tonic
properties and freshened him wonderfully.
“It’s been a long time since I had breakfast, Mr. Dimmock,” were his
first words.
“You’ve skipped dinner,” returned Dimmock, evidently pleased to note
that the prisoner was taking recent events in such a matter-of-fact
way, “but you’ll have a fine supper to make up for it. In less than an
hour from now we’ll be where we’re going.”
Sanders cranked up, climbed into his seat, and the car moved on through
the forest aisle, the searchlights boring bright holes in the dark.
“Where is the journey’s end to be?” inquired Matt.
“Somewhere between Loon Lake and Stoughton. That’s all you’re to know.”
“This is the Boston Pike?”
“We’ve been traveling the Boston Pike for a long time--but I guess that
knowledge won’t help you much if you ever wanted to find the house
again.”
“We’re about due at Matteawan, aren’t we?”
Dimmock laughed at that, and the laugh was echoed by the girl.
“I had to tell the taxicab driver something,” said Dimmock.
“This is quite a plot you’re working out,” pursued Matt.
“It was rather hastily evolved by Tibbits, but it seems to be doing the
work.”
“Tibbits, if I’ve got it right, is the man with McGlory?”
“You’ve got it right.”
“Did you bring my chum from Liberty Street?”
“Of course, Motor Matt, I hadn’t anything to do with that part of it.
Pearl and Sanders and I were to look after you.”
“How did you happen to be hidden away on the Boston Post Road?”
“We thought that was safer than to meet you at Rye.”
Dimmock had a complaisant air--entirely the air of a man whose plans
are succeeding, and with ultimate victory assured.
“What was the use of all this juggling with taxicabs and touring cars?”
continued Matt.
He was groping for information, in order to lead up to the announcement
that Tibbits, Dimmock, and the rest were having their trouble for their
pains.
“You see,” explained Dimmock, “it was easier for Pearl to work alone,
and pretend to be a messenger for the brokers. If Sanders and I had
been along, you’d have suspected something.”
“I suspected something, anyhow, and if you hadn’t resorted to violence,
back there on the road, your daughter would have been held in the Rye
police station until I could have learned more about what was going on.”
“Which shows our wisdom in waiting for you on the other side of Rye,”
commented Dimmock.
“What’s back of all this, Dimmock?” demanded Matt.
“You’ll find that out later,” was the reply. “Tibbits is at the head of
this little conspiracy, and most of the talking must be left for him.”
“How did you know I was to meet my chum at the Flatiron Building at ten
o’clock?”
“That’s something else you’ll have to learn from Tibbits.”
“Do you know how Tibbits got McGlory to take his ride into the country?”
“Just as we got you, if the business worked out according to plan. You
were told that your chum wanted you, and McGlory was told that you
wanted him. That seemed to be enough,” and Dimmock laughed under his
breath.
“There’s been a mistake, Dimmock,” said Matt earnestly.
“Not on our side,” answered Dimmock.
“Ever since ten o’clock this morning you and your pals have played fast
and loose with the law, and you’re under a delusion of some sort.”
“You’re the one who is under a delusion.”
“I believe you’ll find out differently. I feel so sure of that, that
I’m perfectly willing to go with you to the end of the journey. The
facts will come out, at that time.”
“They will,” said Dimmock, with emphasis.
“My mission is to find my chum----”
“You’ll have fulfilled your mission when we get to where we’re going.”
“McGlory will be there?”
“Yes.”
“That’s all I can ask. Take these ropes off me, can’t you? I’m too
anxious to find McGlory to try to get away.”
“The ropes won’t be removed until we reach the house.”
“What’s to be done at the house?”
“Nothing to your physical harm. You and McGlory will be entertained
there for a few days. You’ll be able to eat, drink, and enjoy
yourselves--within certain prescribed limits.”
“But we can’t do that!” cried Matt, suddenly remembering that his chum
had to be back in New York by Wednesday afternoon.
“You’ll have to stay at the house,” was the decided answer.
“Why? What’s the reason?”
“I have talked all I’m going to about the whys and wherefores.
Whatever else you learn you’ll have to get from Tibbits.”
Matt relapsed into silence, while the car continued to speed along the
gloomy, tree-bordered road, following the long shafts of light like a
phantom locomotive on gleaming rails.
Suddenly there was a lessening of the speed, a swerve to the right,
a quick stop, and the touring car was nosing a big iron gate, hung
between square brick pillars.
“Here we are,” said Sanders.
“See if the gates are locked, Sanders,” ordered Dimmock. “They
shouldn’t be. Tibbits said he would leave them unfastened.”
Matt leaned forward to watch the glow from the searchlights as it
played over the massive iron work, penetrated the heavy bars, and lost
itself in a dense mass of trees and shrubbery beyond.
The gates were not fastened, and Sanders pushed them wide. After
running the car into the yard, the driver left it standing on a
graveled drive while he returned to close the gates, and lock them.
“What sort of a place is this, Dimmock?” asked Matt, peering around,
but seeing little, except the heavy shadows cast by trees and bushes.
“It’s a fine old place,” replied Dimmock, “and you and your chum should
feel highly flattered at being entertained here. The family, as it
fortunately happens for Tibbits and the rest of us, are in Europe this
summer.”
“Then you haven’t any right here?”
“We have borrowed the use of the house. Tibbits has the run of the
place, and we’re here by his invitation.”
Sanders got back and started the car slowly. The gravel road wound
through the trees, and finally the searchlights flashed out upon the
front of a large mansion. The great house was silhouetted against the
sky, and the car lights swept the front door as the machine turned and
halted at the broad front steps.
A glow appeared suddenly in the fanlight over the door. Sanders gave
three quick, sharp blasts of the horn. This seemed to be a signal, for
the door opened as if by magic, and a man showed darkly in the entrance.
“That you, Dimmock?” called the man.
“Who else could it be, Tibbits?” answered Dimmock. “Did you get here
safely with McGlory?”
“Yes. And you? Have you got Motor Matt?”
“We have.”
An exclamation of satisfaction fell from Tibbits’ lips.
“I was afraid Pearl had had trouble,” said he. “We passed her on the
road, sitting beside a taxicab that had run head-on into a stone wall.
Motor Matt was nowhere in sight, and I thought he had suspected that
something was wrong, and had escaped. I didn’t dare stop and ask any
questions, you see, because McGlory was with us.”
“We came near having a streak of hard luck there, Tibbits, but we
pulled through all right. What shall we do with Motor Matt?”
“Bring him in, of course. His chum’s anxious to see him, and I suppose
he’s equally anxious to see McGlory.”
“He’s tied,” said Dimmock.
“Then untie him. He won’t get away.”
Tibbits pulled something from his pocket that flashed in the lamplight.
“I’ll keep him under the point of this,” Tibbits went on, “until he
gets where I want him to go.”
Sanders, standing on the footboard of the car, leaned into the tonneau
and helped Dimmock remove the cords that bound Matt’s arms and legs.
When the cords were removed, Matt tried to stand, but tottered back
upon the seat.
“Pretty rough treatment you’ve had, eh?” laughed Dimmock. “Well, you’ll
be entertained so royally here, Motor Matt, that you’ll forget all the
unpleasant things that have happened to you.”
In a few moments, Matt was able to climb out of the tonneau. Tibbits’
revolver was leveled at him the instant he dropped down from the
footboards.
“Walk straight up the steps, Motor Matt,” ordered Tibbits, “and on into
the house. I’ll follow and tell you which way to go. Be nice about it,
and nothing will happen.”
Matt mounted the steps. Tibbits backed to one side, to let him pass,
and the hall light shone over his face. Matt looked at him sharply. The
man was a stranger, and he was positive he had never seen him before.
This was another fact to clinch Matt’s theory that Tibbits and his pals
were making a mistake.
Up the steps, through the great doors, and into a richly furnished hall
Matt passed, Tibbits, still with the revolver aimed, following him
closely.
“Keep straight on along the hall,” ordered Tibbits.
Matt kept on. The musty, close odor of a house, long shut up, assailed
his nostrils, and offered proof that Dimmock had told the truth when he
asserted that the family were in Europe.
“That door on the right,” said Tibbits. “Go in there.”
Matt opened the door. As he closed it behind him he heard the rasp of a
key in the lock, and the “click” of a thrown bolt.
“Pard!” came an overjoyed yell.
The next moment Matt was caught and given a bear’s hug.
“Joe!” exclaimed the delighted Matt.
“Sure, it’s Joe,” whooped the cowboy. “What’s going on here, anyhow?
What do you want me for?”