“Go back, if you’re afraid to go on and do what your friend wants you to do,” said she.
“I’m not at all certain,” said Matt, “that I’m doing what my friend wants me to do. The only reason I’m keeping on with you is because I saw McGlory pass me in that red touring car. I’d like to ask you, Miss Granger, if you stopped because you saw this signal,” and Matt turned and pointed to the white cloth.
“That’s the reason I stopped, Motor Matt,” the girl replied promptly.
“The plans you are following seem to have been laid with a good deal of care, and to point to something that may prove pretty serious. I think, Miss Granger, that you and I will go on to Rye, and stop there.”
“I’m not going to stop at Rye,” answered the girl, with spirit.
“I think you will,” answered Matt coolly. “On second thought, I believe it’s my duty to turn you over to the authorities until I can find out something more about my chum. You can explain to the judge why you’re disguised as you are.”
“You don’t mean that!” gasped the girl, starting back.
“I do,” declared Matt. “As I said, I believe it’s my duty, and——”
At that precise juncture, something descended over Matt’s head, thrown from behind. It might have been a shawl, or an automobile coat, or a piece of cloth—there was no time to take particular note of it. The attack came so suddenly, and so unexpectedly, that he was not able to defend himself.
With his face smothered in the thick folds, he was drawn roughly backward. A foot tripped him, and he measured his length on the ground. The next moment he was seized by strong hands and dragged through the bushes and into the woods. He struggled blindly and fiercely against his unseen captors, but they were too many of them. He was powerless to free himself, and the smothering cloth that covered his head and shoulders made it impossible for him to call for help.