In spite of his promise to seek the mattress as quickly as possible after the lecture was over, Brad permitted himself to be lured into the house by Mabel, who told him that Barbara wished to see him. He did not stop many minutes, but came out in high good spirits, bounded down the steps, reached the waiting cab, flung open the door, and jumped in.
He sprang into the enfolding arms of some one who was sitting inside the cab. Those arms, clasped about his own, held him like bands of steel.
“Whoop!” roared the Texan, in astonishment. “Whatever does this mean?”
Over his shoulder a voice said:
“Lively with that stuff! Come on, quick!”
Then Brad perceived a dark figure in front of him and suddenly a sickly, pungent odor assailed his nostrils. A handkerchief saturated with chloroform was held over his mouth and nose.
The Texan put up a savage fight, but his efforts were futile, and in the end he was overcome, sinking helpless in the arms of the fellow who had clung to him with such fierce tenacity through it all.
When Brad revived he found himself in a basement room, stretched upon a wretched cot, with a rough table near at hand and a smoking lamp burning on the table. It was some time before he could realize his situation. Gradually he recalled what had happened, and, with a groan, he started up from the couch. He was still dressed in evening clothes, although his collar and necktie had been torn away. There was a sensation of nausea at the pit of his stomach and his head swam. After a moment he was forced to sink back upon the couch.
“What does it mean?” he muttered. “Where am I, anyhow? How did I get here?”
There were no windows save a small, narrow transom above the one heavy door of the room. He was impressed with the belief that the room was sunken deep beneath the ground and no sounds he made could be heard outside. Nevertheless, finally summoning his strength, he raised an outcry.