ONE AGAINST MANY
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.