“What would be the use?” grated Hal, inwardly. “They wouldn’t be so sure of me if there was a dog’s chance to crawl out.”
The spokesman went out, but the other three remained.
Ting-a-ling-ling-ling! tinkled a bell in another room.
“A telephone,” conjectured Hal. “Will Senor Enrique Vasquez be at the other end of the wire?”
Though he listened intently, he could not hear the words spoken into the receiver.
Presently the fourth man came back.
As Hal had not made any effort to get up, his jailers now squatted upon the floor, lighting paper cigarettes and puffing incessantly.
Minute after minute dragged by.
Hal did not address a word to his captors. Neither did he shout for help, for he felt sure that he would not have been left ungagged had they feared that his voice would reach friendly ears.
Nor did his captors speak, beyond an occasional word addressed to one another.