"Talk it over? What do you mean?"
"Let me out, and I'll explain."
"I'll not let you out."
"It won't do you any good to keep me in here."
"I know better."
"Don't think that I am alone on this case, for I am not. If you harm me, you'll take the consequences."
"Bah! You can't scare me! I'm not a baby. If you weren't alone, some of your chums would be after you long ago. You thought to run me and my gang down single-handed, and have your praises sung in every bloomin' newspaper of the country! I know your kind. But I've got you now like a rat in a trap. And you'll get out like the rat does—after he's dead."
"You won't talk then?"
"No—at least, not now. Perhaps I'll talk later. But I'll not give you your liberty," and thus speaking Matlock Styles tried the door of the vault, to make certain that it was secure, and walked away.
It must be confessed that Adam Adams felt that he was in a dangerous situation—a situation in which the majority of men would have given up utterly. He still had his lantern, and this he lit once more, and by its rays examined every foot of the vault in which he was a prisoner.