An automobile stood in front of him, backed up against the stone wall of the basement. It was a two-passenger roadster, with acetyline and oil-lamps lighted. In the driver's seat sat another cowled figure. Three chairs on either side of the automobile held more of the white-caps, all rigidly erect and silent.
"Vat a foolish pitzness!" growled the captive. "Oof you hat a ring ve vould haf a circus, und——"
"Silence!" thundered the white-cap with the gun.
He had taken a seat at the captive's side, and leaned from his chair to poke the point of the weapon in the captive's ribs.
Honk, honk!
The man in the car tooted his horn.
"Number Three," said he, "will report."
From one of the chairs on the right a white-cap arose, stepped in front of the car and kowtowed.
"Most Honorable King of Chauffeurs," said he, "I have to report that I met the captive at the railroad-station. He had claimed a couple of grips and sent them to a hotel by an expressman. I informed him that my name was Higgins, and that I had something of importance to tell him about this fellow who calls himself Motor Matt. He swallowed the bait, hook and all, and I brought him past the mouth of the alley. Aided by Numbers One, Two, and Four, we captured him easily."
Honk, honk!