He tiptoed over to it and tried to open it. It stuck at first,
but after one or two silent, well-directed blows which he so well knew
how to administer the sliding panel stood unlocked.
He glanced around. There was no one to be seen. He moved back the panel.
There was a flash and a tiny puff of smoke. Locke coughed once, clutched
at his throat, and lay gasping on the floor.
Immediately the three men rushed out, carrying ropes and holding
handkerchiefs to their nostrils. One ran to the window and threw it wide
open, admitting gusts of air to clear away the fumes. The others began
to bind Locke as De Luxe Dora appeared in the doorway and calmly
directed operations.
On the roof of the apartment several moments later in the just-gathering
dusk five figures might have been seen. Three men and a woman were
conferring, while at their feet was a man tightly bound and unconscious.
In the background was a huge water-tank, with a ladder leading to its
brim.
Suddenly the conspirators straightened up. They had come to a decision.
The three men lifted the unconscious figure and bore it up the ladder.
The tank was empty.
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