he Englishman in triumph.

"Sure it was our man?" queried his companion. "I didn't get a very
good look."

"Yes, it was our man, the bloody villain!"

"He's a slick one!"

"So he is--but he'll not get away again. Go and tell the others that
it is all right--that we have him," went on Matlock Styles.

"You are sure he can't get out of there?"

"Not in a hundred years! He'd have to blast his way out to do it."

"Then it's all right," returned the other man, and walked away up the
flight of stone steps.

"Now, then, you have come to the end of your rope, you bloomin', bloody
rascal!" cried Matlock Styles, when he was left alone in front of the
vault. "You'll not get out of there until I open the door."

"Styles, supposing we talk this matter over?" suggested Adam Adams, as
calmly as he could.

"Talk it over? What do you mean?"

"Let me out, and I'll explain."

"I'll not let you out."

"It won't do you any good to keep me in here."

"I know better."

"Don't think that I am alone on this case, for I am not. If you harm
me, you'll take the consequences."

"Bah! You can't scare me! I'm not a baby. If you weren't alone, some
of your chums would be after you long ago. You thought to run me and
my gang down single-handed, and have your praises sung in every
bloomin' newspaper of the country! I know your kind. But I've got you
now like a rat in a trap. And you'll get out like the rat does--after
he's dead."

"You won't talk then?"

"No--at least, not now. Perhaps I'll talk later. But I'll not give
you your liberty," and thus speaking Matlock Styles tried the door of
the vault, to make certain that it was secure, and walked away.

It must be confessed that Adam Adams felt that he was in a dangerous
situation--a situation in which the majority of men would have given up
utterly. He still had his lantern, and this he lit once more, and by
its rays examined every foot of the vault in which he was a prisoner.

He saw little that gave him encouragement. The sides and flooring were
of stone and brick, well put together and strong. The ceiling was
likewise of brick, resting on arches of iron.

"Looks as If I was booked to stay here!" he muttered grimly, as he
viewed the situation. "No getting out as I got out of that other hole."

He noticed that the air was not good, and this soon gave him cause for
additional alarm. If he could not get any fresh air, he might smother
before anybody came t