"Hang the luck!" he went on. "I had it open before. What's got into the confounded combination?"
Again he tried to work the figures. But it was all of no avail, and at last he arose, fists clenched, and with a face full of baffled anger. He stalked around the library, gazed at the strong box several times, and then quit the apartment.
Waiting once more, the detective presently saw the man come from the house and walk toward the road. Following, he saw the fellow hurry past the Bardon home and then into a patch of timber. Here he had a horse, and in a moment more would have been in the saddle had not Adam Adams caught him by the arm.
"Hi! what's this, a hold-up?" cried the man, evidently frightened. "Let go of me!" And he tried to pull away and then attempted to draw a revolver from a hip pocket.
"Stop! I am not going to hurt you," was the calm reply from the detective. "I want to talk to you, that's all."
"Really?" came with a sneer. "A fine time of night to hold a man up.
Be quick, for I am in a hurry."
"I want you to explain several things to me," went on Adam Adams calmly.
"Explain? To you?"
"That is what I said. You can take your choice. Either explain or consider yourself under arrest."
"Eh? Say, are you crazy?"