“Say, what is this?” Doyle demanded in an angry voice.
“Put up your hands,” the chauffeur ordered again. “Don’t try any clever business or I’ll let you have it! Now get out of the car!”
Silently Flash and Doyle obeyed.
“Walk straight ahead down the road,” their captor commanded.
“Is this a stick-up?” Doyle asked, standing his ground.
The revolver prodded his back.
“No, it isn’t a stick-up, brother. Move along before I get impatient.”
“Where are you taking us?”
“You’ll find out soon enough. Keep lookin’ straight ahead.”
Doyle glanced sideways at Flash as they marched down the road, hands held high.