The command was enforced by the pressure of something cold to the back of Tom’s neck. With a sharp thrill of fear, the boy realized that it was the muzzle of a pistol that pressed against him, and that the man who had uttered the command to turn about was Jake Rook.
CHAPTER XVIII—IN THE OLD MANSION
Tom did more rapid-fire thinking right then that he had ever done in his life before. Bitterly he blamed himself, too, for halting the car at Jake Rook’s request. If only he hadn’t done that, how different things might have been!
But Tom wasn’t the sort of lad to waste time in vain regrets. He realized plainly enough that he was in the power of the rascally pair who had made them so much trouble, and that in the event of his offering any resistance things might go hard with him.
He therefore decided to bide his time, and await the coming of some more favorable turn in his fortunes.
“Come on! Turn around and look slippy now!” growled Rook, emphasizing his order by an unpleasant “click” of the trigger of his weapon.
“Where do you want to go?” demanded Tom in as steady a voice as he could command. He was determined not to let the rascals see that he was afraid of them.
“None of your business. Your job is to do what you’re told—see?”
As there was nothing else to do, and resistance would have been infinitely worse than foolish, Tom obeyed. Inwardly he hoped that they would meet another car somewhere along the way that they were going, and in such a case he determined to appeal for aid, cost what it might. He knew that the road was a fairly well traveled one, and decided that, if only he had a decent proportion of luck, they might meet some other machine.
“Now drive ahead! Fast, too!” came the next order, as Tom completed his turn.