CHAPTER XXII.
KIDNAPPED A hand gripped his shoulder as though in a vise, and swung him around; the muzzle of an automatic confronted him, and behind it the threatening eyes of Joe glared directly into his own.
"Not a move, you damned spy," a voice said coldly.

"Now, Mark, frisk the cuss, and be lively about it.

Had a gun, hey; I thought so.

Give it to me.

Now get the cord over there and give him a turn or two.