"All right, Parkins, you are going to have the merriest little test put up to you that a rascal of your stamp could conceive of in a life time!" shouted Carver. "At this moment you and your accomplice are shielding yourselves at the expense of a frail girl. She need have no fear—you infernal coward! But unless you and that woman come out instantly, I'll break in the doors and hang both of you up by the thumbs. I am counting ten—one—two—three—four—five—get ready, 'Updyke man'—six——"
The door opened, and Mrs. Duke screamed as she saw Carver's badge.
Parkins came out first, with palms turned outward and was made to lay face-down, his arms stretched above his head. Then came the woman, to find, at the point of a revolver, that she had forfeited the chivalry of honest men.
"Now you, Updyke man, slip a pair of bracelets on both the man and the woman, while I do the same with the driver. Now, little lady," he added, addressing Winifred, "could you ride behind me on my motorcycle to Riverhead?"
Carver stood with hat in hand, smiling into her pallid face.
"Oh, I am sure I could," she whispered, frightened to the point of nervous breakdown.
"Then walk back along the road a little way while I prepare these kidnappers for a safe journey," said he, sneering down upon the prisoners. "I wouldn't want you to see what I may have to do to them."
At the suggestion of the Updyke man each prisoner was handcuffed with arms behind, instead of in front, as was the usual practice in extreme cases.
"That's the safest way," said the operative, "and now we'll tie their feet to the foot rest—Parkins in front, by himself, and the woman and the chauffeur on the rear seat. I'll drive the car back to New York. Updyke will be waiting for them, all right enough!"
When the job was completed, the curtains were drawn and the doors locked from outside. Then the Updyke operative mounted the chauffeur's seat and headed the car toward the west.