"I'll have yer life fer this, my buck," gritted Spangler, rubbing the point of his jaw, and glaring.
"Not right away you won't," returned Matt coolly. "Step around to the other wall. We want to pass that door, and you're too close to it."
"If ye think ye're goin' ter make a clean gitaway," scowled Spangler, as he moved across the room, "ye've got a surprise ahead o' ye. Ye kain't bump Hank as easy as ye bumped me."
"What are you going to do, King?" asked Tomlinson.
"Get away from here as quick as we can," answered Matt.
"Aren't you going to take that scoundrel along, now that we've captured him?"
"No, it's impossible."
"Impossible?" echoed Tomlinson incredulously. "Why, we've got him right in our hands."
"His partner is close by, in another road, and his partner has a faster car than your Red Flier, Mr. Tomlinson. We've got to get away from here in a hurry. Take my word for it. There's no time to talk about it. Hurry out, you and Gregory, and make for the west road. I've got a friend there watching the car."
"But——"