“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 bloody 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 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.