The man reached away from Clancy and half arose. Snap! An electric switch was pressed and a glow of light flooded the room.
For a second, Clancy was blinded, and could see little. As his vision cleared, he discovered that the man who had made a prisoner of him was a young fellow, who bore a striking facial resemblance to the judge. He wore a blanket robe and slippers, and held a small, automatic pistol in his right hand.
“Jove!” murmured the chap with the gun. “You don’t look much like a tough, and that’s a fact. But circumstances are against you, my lad. See that door yonder?”
They were in what was evidently the dining room. As the young man spoke, he nodded toward a door on the other side of the apartment.
“I see it,” Clancy answered.
“That door leads into a hall, and the hall leads to the governor’s study. There is a safe in the study, and the Prescott money is in the safe. Your pals are there, I presume. Walk ahead of me. I’m going to pay them a visit and use you as a screen against any bullets they send in my direction. Start!”
Clancy got up from the floor.
“Hibbard has no love for me,” said he, “and he’ll probably be glad to shoot when he sees who I am. There are two of them, and they must be armed. You don’t want them to get away, do you?”
“I don’t want them to get away with the money. I guess I’ll be able to save that. Stir yourself—we can’t lose any more time.”
The curtain of the doorway through which Clancy had just come was pushed back. The bright glow in the dining room shone out through the doorway and into the room with the open window.