"Never mind that now."
"Why, I can prove an alibi."
"Then you'll have to prove it, and a bloody strong one too, before I let you go. I've seen you sneaking around before. That's a wig you are wearing. Bart, bind him, and do it bloomin' tight, too."
"I'll do it tight enough," answered the other man, pocketing his pistol. "Hold out your hands," he went on to the detective.
Adam Adams looked around to see if there was some means of escape. But he realized that between the two men and the somewhat savage mastiff he was squarely cornered.
"I suppose I'll have to submit," he said. "But let me tell you that you are making a big mistake and it will cost you dear if you make me submit to this indignity. I'll sue you for a good round sum."
At this Matlock Styles winced. Evidently he was one who did not like to have his pocketbook touched. But then he stiffened again.
"I am willing to run the risk. Go ahead, Bart."
Adam Adams was compelled to hold out his hands and to his astonishment, not to say chagrin, his arms and also his legs were tightly bound.
"Going to search him?" asked the fellow called Bart.