“Lay down on that bunk there, my lad,” said Kelly, pointing to a cot at one side of the small room.
It was a room set apart for the man in charge of the garage, and was rudely but comfortably furnished.
Matt, still cast down by his cowboy chum’s treachery, was as yet taking but little interest in what happened to him. He stumbled over upon the cot, glad of an opportunity to rest with some degree of comfort while his mind regained its normal powers and allowed him to think clearly of McGlory’s case.
Kelly secured his feet with an end of the rope that bound his hands.
“I’m going to be as considerate of ye, King,” observed Kelly, “as I can. No harm is intended to ye—if there was I wouldn’t be helpin’. But ye’ve got to stay here for a while, an’ orders is that ye’re to remain quiet. The garage is more or less of a public place, an’ yer confinement is to be private. If people happened to be below ye might yell. That wouldn’t do, now, would it? I’m going to tie this piece of cloth over yer mouth jest to make sure ye don’t say anythin’ so loud it can be heard downstairs.”
“Wait a minute, Kelly,” said Matt. “Do you know anything about my chum, Joe McGlory?”
“Never a thing. He’s the boy who came with ye in that runabout?”
“Yes.”
“Well, he’s not known to me at all. You’re the lad that gave us that chase, and Levitt says you’re a thief. Ye don’t look it, now, but orders is to hold ye, an’ that’s what I’m doin’.”
“You’re helping Colonel Billings and Levitt carry out a big swindling game by this work, Kelly.”