“I’ll get a rope,” Bud cried.
He ran into the storeroom and returned a moment later with a heavy cord. Nancy’s hands were then tied securely behind her and she was again flung down on the couch.
“I guess you’ll not get away this time,” Tom laughed evilly.
As Nancy felt the cord cutting into her flesh, she realized that her chances of escape were slim indeed. Tom Tozzle had done his work far better than had Stumpy Dowd, the rascal who had once imprisoned her in an abandoned cottage. Then, by dextrous twisting and squirming, she had managed to loosen her bonds, but this time she felt that there was no chance of doing this. The cords would not give an inch, and the slightest movement on her part brought excruciating pain.
“What are we going to do with her?” Bud demanded practically.
“Leave her here and let her starve,” Mary suggested cruelly. “It would serve her right for meddling.”
“Somebody might find her,” Tom objected. “Then she’d be sure to set the police after us.”
“That’s so,” Mary agreed. “Maybe we’d better take her along in the motorboat.”
“She’ll be a nuisance,” Bud protested.
“We can drop her off at an old cabin I know of,” Tom put in. “No one would think of looking there for her.”
“How far is it from here?” Mary asked.
“About forty miles.”