Dave Porter and His Rivals/Chapter 25
CHAPTER XXV
IN THE HANDS OF THE ENEMY
At the head of the stairs the doctor paused, and then opened a door leading to a back bedroom. The apartment had two windows, but the blinds were closed, what little light there was coming in through the turned-down slats.
"I have to shut off a good deal of light on account of my eyes," explained the doctor, as he saw Dave glance at the blinds. "My eyes are very weak, and I am told that the sunlight is very bad for them."
"I am sorry to hear that," answered Dave.
He hardly knew what to say or how to act. His reception had not been what he had anticipated, and he could not imagine what was coming next.
"Here are some of the documents I wish you to look over first—and then we'll talk business," said Hooker Montgomery, pointing to a mass of legal-looking papers lying on the bed. "You can take them to the window if you wish," and he sank down in a rocking-chair, as if tired out, and placed both hands over his eyes.
Curious to know what the documents might contain of importance to him, Dave took some of them up and stepped close to one of the windows. The writing was poor, and it was hard to make out what had been written.
His face was bent closely over one of the pages when of a sudden he felt some unusual movement behind him. He started to turn, but before he could do so, a big bag was thrown over his head and arms, and tied around his waist. At the same instant he was tackled around the legs, and his ankles were tied together.
Of course he struggled, and for several minutes his would-be captors had all they could do to hold him. But he had been taken so completely off his guard that resistance proved useless. Soon a rope was passed around the bag and over his arms, and further struggling was out of the question.
"Who are you?" he demanded, in a muffled tone, for inside of the bag it was all he could do to breathe. The covering was so heavy he could not see a thing.
No answer was vouchsafed to his question. He was backed up against the bed, and made to sit down, and then he heard his captors leave the room, locking the door after them.
Dave was both chagrined and angry—chagrined to think that he had been taken in so easily, and angry to think that he was a prisoner and at his captors' mercy.
"This must be the work of Merwell and Jasniff," he thought. "They simply hired the doctor to get me here. There is nothing in the story of documents, letters, and photographs. What a fool I was to walk into the trap!"
And then he wondered when his captors would return, and what they proposed to do with him.
For fully a quarter of an hour Dave waited, straining his ears to catch every sound. From below came a murmur of voices, but what was said he could not learn. Once he thought he recognized Jasniff's rough tones, but he was not sure.
Tired of sitting on the edge of the bed, Dave got up and tried to move around. Then he made the discovery that his ankles were tied to a rope that was secured to the bed, and that the latter was stationary.
"I'm a prisoner, and no mistake," he reasoned, grimly. "I wonder how long they intend to keep me here?"
The room was cold, and he was glad that he had his overcoat on. His cap had fallen off inside the bag, but his thick hair and the bag prevented his catching cold in the head.
"Guess I'll wake them up a bit," he thought, and so commenced to stamp on the floor. Then he stamped louder, until he felt he must be knocking the plaster from the ceiling below. He was in the midst of the stamping when the door of the room was thrown open and somebody came in.
"Stop that noise, or I'll knock you down!" said a sharp voice, and at the same instant a strong hand was placed on his shoulder, and he was given a vigorous shake.
Dave was surprised, for the voice was not that of Doctor Montgomery, neither did it belong to Merwell nor Jasniff. Yet, in some way, the voice sounded familiar.
"What are you going to do with me?" demanded Dave, as he stopped his stamping.
"You'll find that out later, Porter. Now keep quiet,—if you know when you are well off."
"I want to know now. You have no right to treat me in this fashion. I'll have you and Doctor Montgomery put in jail for it."
"You shut up!" cried the stranger, and he gave Dave a shove that sent him back on the bed. "You make any more noise and I'll quiet you in a way you won't like!" And then the fellow left the room again, and the door was locked as before.
Feeling that he might be attacked and seriously injured if he kept up the noise, Dave remained quiet, and thus the remainder of the afternoon passed. As night came on the room became dark and extra cold, and he shivered in spite of himself.
"If they leave me here all night I'll be frozen stiff," he thought, grimly. "Oh, why didn't I tell Roger and Phil where I was going! They might come to the rescue!"
After another wait Dave heard more talking below, and then three persons came upstairs and into the room.
"Now, you keep real quiet and you won't get hurt," said the person who had spoken before. "If you start to raise a row—well, you'll wish you hadn't, that's all."
"What are you going to do?"
"Keep quiet, and you'll find out before very long."
"Do you know this is a very high-handed proceeding?"
"Shut up!"
The tone was extra sharp, and Dave received a rough shake of the shoulder. Not knowing but what he might be knocked down, he relapsed into silence.
Presently his feet were unfastened, and he was led out of the room and down the stairs. Then the party made its way to the rear of the house, and went outside.
"Now we are going to give you a little sleighride for your health," said the person who had spoken before.
As there was no snow on the ground Dave felt this must mean a ride on the river, and he was not mistaken. A horse and a low box-sleigh were at hand, and into the turnout Dave was lifted, the fellow who had spoken getting on one side of him and somebody else on the other. Then still another party took up the reins, and started to drive off, over the ice, which was just thick enough to bear the weight of such an outfit.
Although Dave's arms were tied to his sides, he could move his hands a little, and he managed to get hold of a good-sized pin, which had been fastened to a corner of his overcoat. As the sleigh moved over the smooth surface of the river he resolved to make an effort to learn the identity of the silent fellow beside him, and so moved the pin around, and shoved it towards the individual as far as possible.
"Ouch!" came the sudden exclamation, as the point of the pin reached its mark, and the fellow leaped partly to his feet. "What in thunder" And then the speaker broke off short.
"I know you, Link Merwell!" cried Dave. "I thought all along it was you."
"I'm not Merwell!" growled the fellow, in a deep voice. "Don't you dare to stick me with that pin again, or I'll mash you!" And then he refused to say any more. But he gave Dave's arm such a pinch that it was black and blue for a long time afterwards.
With the bag over his head, Dave could not hear very well, yet he felt tolerably certain that the fellow was Link Merwell, and if this was so, then most likely the driver of the sleigh was Nick Jasniff. But who the third party could be was still a mystery.
"Some old enemy I have forgotten," reasoned the captive. And then he wondered where he was being taken, and for what purpose.
After a ride of half an hour the sleigh came to a halt, and Dave was ordered to get out. Then he was marched up a steep bank and up some steps. A door was opened, and all of the party entered a building of some sort. He was placed in a room and tied fast to a ring fastened in the floor.
"Now you behave yourself and you'll soon be freed and treated to a hot supper," said the man who appeared to be the spokesman for the crowd. "But if you make a row you'll not be freed, and you'll not get a mouthful."
Then Dave was left alone once more, and all three of his captors apparently left the building.
The room was warm, and for this the captive was grateful. A chair had been placed for him to sit upon, so he was fairly comfortable. An hour passed and during that time all was silent. Then somebody came in and started to release his arms and take the bag from his head.
It was a man, tall and muscular, and Dave felt sure he had seen him before, but where he could not remember. The man wore a mask, made of a handkerchief with holes cut in it for his eyes.
"Sorry I can't let you go just yet," he said. "But here is something to eat and to drink." And he pointed to a table, upon which rested a lamp, for it was now late in the evening and dark. On the table was a cup of hot tea and several cheese sandwiches and a small baker's pie.
"Well, I'm hungry, that's certain," said Dave, grimly. "And if I've got to stay here I might as well eat."
"That's the sensible way to talk," answered the man.
"When are you going to let me go?"
"I can't say yet—most likely in the morning."
"Why did you bring me here?"
"Just for fun."
"You've taken a lot of trouble for your fun," said Dave. He did not believe the man's statement.
"Eat your supper, Porter," growled the man, and sank down on a chair close to the door. "No funny work now, mind you!" And he brandished the very stick Dave had carried for self-protection.
There was no help for it, and sitting down to the table Dave began to eat and to drink. The sandwiches were fresh, and so was the pie, and as the ride in the keen air had given him an appetite, he disposed of them quickly. The tea tasted rather bitter, but he was dry and speedily drained the cup. The man watched him drink, with evident satisfaction.
"Now you had better lie down and try and get a little rest," said the fellow of the mask. "When I want you I'll call you." And so speaking he left the room, locking the door after him.
As soon as the man was gone Dave tried to loosen the rope that bound his feet together. It was a hard task and took some time, and bending over seemed to make his head swim. When he straightened up his head grew even more dizzy, and almost before he knew it he was staggering around.
"What a queer sensation!" was his thought. "What in the world is the matter with me?" And then like a flash came the answer. "That tea I It must have been drugged!"
The captive was right in his surmise. The tea had been drugged, and soon poor Dave felt so dizzy he had to rest on the bed. He tried several times to rouse up, and then his senses forsook him completely.
Dave had been unconscious for about a quarter of an hour when the man came in, looked at him, and shook him. Then he went below.
"Well, we've got him," he said to the others. "He is practically dead to the world."
"Good!" was the answer. "Better bring him down right away. We want to get this job over."