“Shut up!” snarled another voice. “Don’t talk—don’t anybody talk! I love silence. I adore silence. I will have silence.”
“Hush-h-h-h-h!” breathed Tommy. “Be still as any mouse. But, say, permit me to inquire what the dickens you fellows are trying to do. Are you kidnaping me with the idea of holding me for a ransom? If you are, permit me to inform you that you’ve captured the wrong kid. There are no millions in my family, and I believe my father would feel actual relief if some one should be foolish enough to take me away where I wouldn’t bother him any more. Or are you some poor, deluded sophomores who contemplate having real fun with me? If such is the case——”
“If he doesn’t shut up, blanket him again.”
“Oh, if you’re going to do that, I’ll keep mum,” said Tucker hastily. “Please don’t put that thing over my head again. Refrain, and I’ll close up like a clam.”
How far he was carried in the cab Tucker had no accurate means of telling. Finally the cab stopped. An instant later the blanket was again wrapped tightly about the captive’s head and shoulders. They dragged him out and forced him along, stumbling and half-falling down a flight of stairs. The sound of their feet echoed gloomily in what seemed to be a big room. The air was damp and stale, as Tucker quickly discovered when the blanket was lifted in order that he might get a breath. It was, likewise, dark as Erebus.
Although he was highly indignant over the treatment, Tucker knew the uselessness of displaying anger and resentment. He permitted them to force him down upon a chair and tie him there, although he made occasional calls for the lifting of the blanket in order that he might breathe. Finally they cast the blanket aside, but he was given no more than a glimpse of them, for a bandage was quickly slipped over his eyes. The gas jet had been lighted, and they were working by the aid of the wretched light thus provided.
“I think I’ll raise a howl,” said Tommy. “I think I’ll yell bloody murder.”
“Howl your head off,” said one of the captors huskily. “You’re in the basement of Dinsmore & Hyde’s old warehouse. You might shout for a week without any one happening to hear you.”
“Then I will not rupture my voice,” said Tucker. “But my unquenchable curiosity compels me to inquire your motives and intentions. What are you going to do with me?”
“You’ll find out in time,” was the answer.