It was not for long, however. Crenshaw was outweighed and outstrengthed;
and Harleston quickly bore him to the floor, where a sharp blow on the
fingers sent the automatic flying.

"If it were not for spoiling the devil's handiwork, my fine friend, I'd
smash your face," Harleston remarked.

"Smash it!" the other panted. "I'll promise--to smash yours--at the
first opportunity."

"Which latter smashing won't be until some years later," Harleston
retorted, as he turned Crenshaw over. Bearing on him with all his
weight, he loosed his own pajama-cord and tied the man's hands behind
him. Next he kicked off his pajama trousers, and with them bound
Crenshaw's ankles. Then he dragged him to a chair and plunked him into
it, securing him there by a strap.

"It's scarcely necessary to gag you," he remarked pleasantly. "In your
case, an outcry would be embarrassing only to yourself."

"What do you intend to do with me?" Crenshaw demanded.

"Ultimately, you mean. I have not decided. It may depend on what I
find."

"Find?"

Harleston nodded. "In your pockets."

"You dog!" Crenshaw burst out, straining at his bonds. "You miserable