Dubiously, he surveyed the food. The words of the Chinese came back to. him, "Missee say Wong flix good dlinner."
So the girl knew that he was a captive. Well, all he could do was wait. But who was she? And what did his imprisonment mean?
In the meantime there was no reason for wasting a good dinner. Ross was hungry, and in twenty minutes the last scrap of food had-disappeared.
Settling back in his chair, he again filled his pipe and prepared to await developments with as good grace as possible.
It was hours later that he heard footsteps nearing his prison.
CHAPTER FOUR
ROSS IS INVITED TO DINE
Ross heard a key in the lock, and a moment later the heavy door swung open. It was the gunman again. He was evidently not mindful to take any chances with his prisoner, for he again was holding his revolver ready.
"Come on out!" he barked, motioning with the gun for Ross to step out of the room. "Tha big boss wants ya."
"Oh, he does?" returned Ross. "Maybe I'll find out now what all this is about."
"You'll find out all right. Mebbe find out more'n ya want."
"You know, I don't think I'm going to like you at all. I shouldn't be surprised if I had serious trouble with you yet. But lead on!"
Ross's persiflage was far from pleasing to the gunman. He glared malevolently at Ross for a moment, as if half minded to inflict physical punishment, finally thought better of it, and then jerked out, "I ain't leadin'; I'm followin'. Git movin'!"
Ross was conducted to the largest of the group of 'dobe buildings; evidently used as a dwelling, and was ushered directly into a bedroom.
He had expected anything except what he now saw. The room was such as might have been found in a brown-stone mansion on Fifth Avenue. The floor was covered with a deep soft rug. There was a mahogany bed, with a spotless white spread, and a dressing-table of the same wood. To one side of the latter stood a full-length plate mirror.
"The big boss said ya was to shave, an' then ya was ta dress fer dinner. Yo'll find all tha togs there on that bed." The gunman directed Ross's attention to the bed with a flourish of his gun.
Ross looked. The. garments on the bed comprised a complete evening. outfit, from studded shirt to patent-leather pumps.
He was surprised to find that the clothes fit him well. The pumps were a trifle tight and the suit was a bit snug, but a half hour later, when he surveyed himself in the long pier glass, he was well satisfied.
"All right, keeper, let's be on our way. I'm curious," he said.
His captor conducted him down the long veranda, and a moment later he was ushered into a large room where a table was laid for dinner.
CHAPTER FIVE
A STRANGE DINNER
BY THIS TIME Ross was prepared for almost anything, yet the room that he now stepped into was even more astounding than the bedroom.
In the center stood a table arranged for four. It fairly sparkled with glassware, silver and spotless linen. At one side of the room stood a huge buffet. Its top was well covered with glasses, liquor shakers and and sundry bottles, the contents of which were obvious.
The occupants of the room chiefly held his attention, though. They were three, two men and a woman. Here, at last, he was to know the meaning of the strange events of the preceding twenty-four hours.
The two men were standing close together and had evidently been conversing. Both were in faultless evening dress. The girl stood apart; aloof, so it seemed. Despite her evening dress, Ross instantly recognized her as the girl he had found in the canon.
One of the men was young and exceedingly well built. His wide, heavily muscled shoulders suggested out-of-the-ordinary strength. His hair was wiry and red; its color was amply reflected in his ruddy complexion, The face was strong and would have been attractive but for one feature—the eyes. The eyes were small, deep-set, and far too close together. They might have been said to be piggish. The dull glint in them was not reassuring. Ross knew at once that he did not like this man.
It was the second of the two men, however, who was really striking. He was, in fact, an amazing figure. His stature was above the average height, over six feet, and he was thin to emaciation. Ross thought he had never seen so tall and yet so slender a man. He was so thin as to be ludicrous, yet there seemed to be a remarkable whipcord strength about him.
His face was narrow and as lean as his body. A thin, high nose divided a pair of piercing black eyes. It was the eyes that struck instant attention. Their everchanging lights fairly gleamed. They seemed to be alive with a thousand fires.
The impression was instantly registered with Ross that here was a man who was possessed of unusual personal power, or who was stark mad. Those eyes could allow of no other conclusion.
As Ross was ushered into the room it was this strange individual who instantly stepped forward.
"Ah, our guest has arrived," he said. His voice was soft as velvet, yet it carried an irritating quality that was thin-edged and biting, and scarcely concealed. "Step right up, Mr. Waring; dinner will be served at once. Wong, the wine."
From somewhere the Chinese, Wong, had glided forth and, drawing out a chair, indicated Ross's place at the table, Immediately he had filled the glasses with a sparkling liquid. Ross recognized it as champagne.
There was no chance to reply. In fact, Ross was too bewildered to think of anything adequate to say. In a moment he would be himself again, but just now his wits were all at cross purposes.
As the elderly man greeted Ross, the girl and younger man took their places at the table as if they had only been waiting his arrival to proceed with the meal. As Ross stepped forward, at the servant's indication, his host reached out and lifted the wine glass at his plate.
"We will drink to the health of our guest," he said evenly.
Automatically, Ross lifted his glass. The others did likewise. For an instant the four glasses were held aloft, the lights playing on their sparkling depths. Then the elderly man turned to Ross with a rather elaborate low bow and said in a voice that was like gray steel:
"Mr. Waring, allow us to drink to your most excellent good health————for tomorrow you hang!"
The words were like an icy blast. Up to that moment the whole affair had been rather ludicrous to Ross. He had realized that he was in danger at times, but that this danger would involve the loss of his life he had not for a moment imagined.
Now he realized that his very life was at stake; more than that, unless he could find some way to extract himself from his predicament, that he was sure to forfeit it. There could be no denying the import of the toast. Ross did not know why, but he did know that this tall, lean stranger with the mad eyes meant to kill him as sure as he stood there.
For a moment, the young New Yorker lost his complacency. He stood with the glass poised in his hand, his brain whirl-
