He was placed on the back seat of the carriage, with a pair of
handcuffs on his wrists, and a handkerchief in his mouth to do duty as a
gag. Captain Flanger was at his side, with two other men on the front
seat, and one on the box with the driver. Against these four men he was
powerless to make any resistance while he was in irons.
The carriage was drawn by two horses, and was considerably larger than
the ordinary victoria used in the town. It was quite dark, and though
the streets were flanked with many houses, hardly a person appeared to
be stirring at this hour. But a vehicle loaded down with the rough
visitors of the place could not be an unusual sight, for they were the
kind of people who were disposed to make the night hideous, as well as
the day.
Christy had struggled with all his might to shake off the ruffians who
beset him, and two more had come out from their concealment when he
thought he was making some progress in freeing himself from their grasp.
As soon as his wrists were ironed he realized that resistance was
useless, and that it could only increase his discomfort. It was a
terrible calamity to have fallen into the power of a man so brutal and
unscrupulous as Captain Flanger, bent upon revenging himself for the
mutilation of his most prominent facial member.
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