Just as they reached the open air there was a crashing and jangling of broken glass at the front of the house.
The starlight showed Zenas that a pair of horses had been attached to the closed carriage he had observed standing near the building. A man was standing at the head of the horses. Another man was perched on the driver’s seat, holding the reins.
The man who had hold of Gunn now rushed him without loss of time to the carriage, the door of which was standing open. Without regard for his feelings, they lifted him bodily and pitched him into the vehicle.
He bumped his head and uttered a cry of pain and fear.
One of the men sprang in and perched upon his body. The other man followed. A whip cracked like a pistol, and with a jerk the carriage started.
“Pull in his legs, pal!” exclaimed the man astride Zenas. “You can’t close the door unless you pull in his legs.”
“Blawst ’is blooming legs!” came from the other man. “Make ’im pull ’em hup.”
“Pull up your feet, old man!” commanded the one who was holding Zenas—“pull them up, if you don’t want to lose the top of your head!”
“I’m a dead man!” groaned the old professor. “This is the end of me!”
He pulled up his legs, and the carriage door was closed at last.