him. He promptly lit another match, and with rising
excitement picked up the sheet of paper and read the three-line
communication scrawled in pencil upon it:

Out to-morrow. Flash-light, candles, cigarettes, and matches in box
at your left. Blankets in corner. Be good.

The recipient of this interesting document read it twice. Then, having
secured the box at his left--a discarded collar box, judging by its
shape and labels--he drew forth the flash-light, the cigarettes, the
matches, and the candles it contained. Lighting one of the candles, he
stuck it securely on a projecting ledge of the wall. By its wan light,
aided by the electric flash, he took a full though still dazed inventory
of his surroundings. The ophidian Shaw had puzzled him again.

He had handled Shaw very roughly for a time. He could still feel--and he
recalled the sensation with great pleasure--the thick, slippery neck of
the creature, and the way it had squirmed when he got his fingers into
it. Yet the serpent evidently bore no malice. Or--a searing thought
struck Laurie--having things his own way, he could afford to be
generous. In other words, he was now perfecting his plans, while he,
Laurie, was out of the way.

The promise of release to-morrow could mean, of course, only one
thing--that those plans, whatever they were, would be carried out by
then. And yet--and yet-- The boy put his head between his hands and
groaned. What was happening to Doris? Surely nothing could happen that
night! Or could it? And what would it be? Only a fool would doubt Shaw's
power and venom after such an experience as Laurie had just had, and
yet--Even now the skeptical interrogation-point reared itself in the
young man's mind.

One fact alone was clear. He must get out of this. But how? Flash-light
in hand, he made the short tour of the cellar, examining and tapping
every inch of the wall, the masonry, and the floor-work. Could he pile
up the furniture and so reach the door in the ceiling? He could not. The
articles consisted of the small, battered trunk, a legless,
broken-springed cot, and a clock whose internal organs had been removed.
Piled one on the other, they would not have borne a child's weight.
Laurie decided that he was directly under Shaw's room. Perhaps the
creature was there now. Perhaps he would consent to a parley. But shouts
and whistles, and a rain of small objects thrown up against the
trap-door produced no response.

He began to exper