"Sit down!" commanded the fellow at his side, jabbing him with the muzzle of the gun.
"Ven I ged goot und retty," fumed Carl, "I vill sot down, und nod pefore. I know vat I know, und I shpeak it oudt. Make some holes in me oof you vant, aber I don'd t'ink you haf der nerf to make holes in anypody. Modor Matt don'd vas a Puttinsky. Dis iss a free goundry, I bed you, und no fellers in nighdt-gowns iss going to make some fault-findings mit my chum, Modor Matt. Vat he do in New Mexico? Vy, he safe his friendt, Tick Verral, from being killed twice. Dot's vat he dit mit his putting-ins. I don'd shday here no more und lis'en to sooch talk vat you make. Vich iss der vay oudt? Oof you don'd led me go, py shinks I make you more drouples as I can dell!"
Carl started toward the door.
Honk, honk!
"Seize him, drivers!" called the man in the car. "Bind him, blindfold him, and place him in the car. Assisted by the Warder, I will carry him off. Remain here, the rest of you, until we return and go into executive session."
Carl was grabbed by all the white-caps; then, after he had been thrown on the floor, his feet and hands were tied and a cloth was bound over his eyes.
"Pretzel," went on the voice of the man in the car, "we racing-drivers are particular about those who enter our ranks. If Motor Matt attempts to race for the Borden cup, he will never live to face the tape at the start. In your pocket we will place a communication which you will deliver to him. It contains a threat and a warning. Let him ignore that letter at his peril."
"You fellers make me so dired as I don'd know!" stormed Carl, struggling to free himself. "Modor Matt don'd vas a kevitter. Vat you say don'd make no odds aboudt ter tifference. You vill know more vone oof dose tays dan vat you t'ink. Pah! You vas all a back oof gowards, und don'd haf der nerf to show your faces! Ven I dell Modor Matt vat——"
Honk, honk!
"Gag him, drivers, and lay him in the car!"