Tired of sitting on the edge of the bed, Dave got up and tried to move around. Then he made the discovery that his ankles were tied to a rope that was secured to the bed, and that the latter was stationary.
"I'm a prisoner, and no mistake," he reasoned, grimly. "I wonder how long they intend to keep me here?"
The room was cold, and he was glad that he had his overcoat on. His cap had fallen off inside the bag, but his thick hair and the bag prevented his catching cold in the head.
"Guess I'll wake them up a bit," he thought, and so commenced to stamp on the floor. Then he stamped louder, until he felt he must be knocking the plaster from the ceiling below. He was in the midst of the stamping when the door of the room was thrown open and somebody came in.
"Stop that noise, or I'll knock you down!" said a sharp voice, and at the same instant a strong hand was placed on his shoulder, and he was given a vigorous shake.
Dave was surprised, for the voice was not that of Doctor Montgomery, neither did it belong to Merwell nor Jasniff. Yet, in some way, the voice sounded familiar.
"What are you going to do with me?" demanded Dave, as he stopped his stamping.
"You'll find that out later, Porter. Now keep quiet,—if you know when you are well off."
"I want to know now. You have no right to treat me in this fashion. I'll have you and Doctor Montgomery put in jail for it."
"You shut up!" cried the stranger, and he gave Dave a shove that sent him back on the bed. "You make any more noise and I'll quiet you in a way you won't like!" And then the fellow left the room again, and the door was locked as before.