"No; he couldn't," replied the other voice. "I was just opening the
door so I could slip out and give him a clip in the dark."

"He's coming to," muttered the bully. "Ye'll have to tell me what you
want done with him."

The speaker had knelt by Tom, with a hand roughly laid against the young
engineer's pulse. Neither plotter could see the boy, for no light had
been struck in the room.

"Pick him up," ordered the one who appeared to be directing affairs.
"If he comes to while you're carrying him you can handle him easily
enough, can't you?"

"Of course. Even after he knows pie from dirt he'll be dazed for a few
minutes."

"Come along with him."

"Strike a light."

For answer the director of this brutal affair flashed a little glow from
a pocket electric lamp.

The way led down a hallway, through to the back of the house, and thence
down a steep flight of stairs into a cellar.

The man who appeared to be in charge of this undertaking had brought a
lantern, holding it ahead of the man who carried Tom's unconscious form.