The room was dark,
but there seemed to be no one in it, though we could hear sounds
as though some one were hastily barricading the door that led from
the front to the room at which I had been firing.
Lockwood struck a match.
"Confound it, don't!" muttered Craig, knocking it from his hand.
"They can see us well enough without helping them."
"Chester!"
We stood transfixed. It was a woman's voice. Where did it come
from? Could she be in the room?
"Chester--is that you?"
"Yes, Inez. Where are you?"
"I ran up here--in this attic--when I heard the shots."
"Come down, then. All is right, now."
She came down a half ladder, half flight of steps. At the foot she
paused just a moment and hesitated. Then, like a frightened bird,
she flew to the safety of Lockwood's arms.
"Mr. Whitney," she sobbed, "called me up and told me that he had
something very important to say, a message from you. He said that
he had the dagger, in his safe, up in the country. He told me
you'd be there and that you expected me to come up with him in his
car. I went. We had some trouble with the engine. And then that
other car--the one that followed us, came up behind and forced us
off the bank. Mr.
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