"Guess it—since you're so smart!" snapped one.
And no sooner had he opened his mouth and Tom had a glance of something gleaming brightly yellow, than the young inventor cried:
"The gold tooth! So it's you again, is it, you spy?"
The man shrugged his shoulders with an assumption of indifference. And, as Tom took a closer look, he became aware that the man was surely none other than Lydane, the spy he had chased into the mud puddle some weeks before. His companion was a stranger to Tom.
"What does it all mean, Mr. Nestor?" asked Tom. "Have these men held you a prisoner ever since you called for help on the moor that night?"
"Yes, Tom, they have. And I did call for help after they attacked me as I was riding my wheel, but I didn't know any one heard me. I began to be afraid no one would ever help me."
"We've been trying to, a long time," said Mr. Damon, "but we couldn't find you. Where did they keep you?"
"Here, part of the time," was Mr. Nestor's answer. "And in other lonely houses. They bound and gagged me when they took me from place to place."
"But what was their object?" asked Tom, concluding it was useless to question the two captives. "Why did they make you a prisoner, Mr. Nestor?"
"Because they took me for you, Tom."