"You haven't any right to keep me at all."
"I'll risk that. I'll make you comfortable, don't you fear."
Adam Adams thought rapidly. Perhaps to remain a prisoner at the farmhouse would be better than to be taken to town. During the night he might get the opportunity to escape.
Matlock Styles untied the end of the rope which bound the detective's legs and ordered the prisoner to follow him.
"And don't try to run away, unless you want Nelson to make a meal of you," he added grimly.
"Where are you going to take me?"
"You'll soon see."
The Englishman led the way out of the farmhouse and past the barn and several other out-buildings. Then he took to a path leading to the river and presently came to a halt in front of an old deserted mill. The building was dark and forbidding, and an owl, hooting in a nearby tree, added to the loneliness of the situation.
"I don't understand this," said the detective, as Matlock Styles came to a halt.
The Englishman did not answer. Instead, he set down his lantern and proceeded to bind the detective's legs once more. His manner was now rough and he acted as if he was somewhat desperate. He shoved open a door to the mill and peered around inside. Then he stepped back, put his lantern over his arm and caught Adam Adams up by the middle and threw the detective over his shoulder as if his prisoner were a log of wood.