“Sure, an’ he’s a terror,” remarked Grogan.
“He is that,” said Horning. “But I say, what are you three fellows doing out here? I thought you were in New York.”
Barker winked at him. The wink was not intended to reach Bob, but, nevertheless, the youth caught it.
“They are up to no good, that’s certain,” he thought. “If they were merely hiding from the authorities, they would choose some more congenial spot than this.”
Barker now produced a rope, and was about to tie Bob up when Grogan came forward.
“Phat’s the good o’ that?” he asked. “Sure, an’ the b’y kin git out o’ it loike a snake.”
“You’re right,” said Casco. “He’s the imp’s own. Put him in one of the back rooms and place Mike to watch him. I want to talk to Joe.”
Grogan’s face fell a little, but when Casco said he could take the bottle along for company the Irishman was reconciled.
Barker conducted Bob to a room separate from that now occupied. Here the young photographer was tied to a support under a heavy shelf and left in care of Grogan.
Grogan at once settled himself on a box, and, filling his pipe, lit it.