the
shrouding blanket. She knew the key had already been turned in the
lock, from the outside; the only thing between her and the freedom of
the open hall was one small bolt shaft.

But before she could open the door Pobloff, with a little grunt of
startled rage, was upon her. She fought and scratched like a cat. The
blanket tumbled down and curtained them, the plumed hat fell from the
woman's disheveled head, a chair was overturned. But he was too strong
and too quick for her. With one lithe arm he pinioned her two hands
close down to her sides, crushing the very breath out of her body.
With his other he beat off the muffling blanket, and dragged her away
from the door. Then he shook her, passionately, and held her off from
him, and glared at her.

One year earlier in her career she knew she would surely have fainted
from terror and exhaustion. Even as it was, she seemed about to school
herself for some relieving and final surrender to the inevitable, only,
her vacantly staring eyes, looking past him, by accident caught sight
of a little movement which brought her drooping courage into life again.

For she had seen the window-shutter slowly widen, and then a cautious
hand appear on the ledge. She watched the shutter swing in, further
and further, and then the stealthy figure, with its padded feet, emerge
out of the darkness into the half-lighted room. She could even see the
pallor of the intruder's face, and his quick movement of warning that
reminded her of the part she must play.

"I give up!" she gasped, in simulated surrender, falling and drooping
with all her weight in Pobloff's arms.

He caught her and held her, bewildered, triumphant.

"You mean it?" he cried, searching her face.

"Yes, I mean it!" she murmured. Then she shuddered a little,
involuntarily, for she had seen Durkin catch up one of his shoes,
hammer-like, where it protruded from the side pocket of his coat--and
she knew only too well how he would make use of it.

As Pobloff bent over her, unwarned, unsuspecting, almost wondering for
what she was waiting with such confidently closed eyes, Durkin crossed
the carpeted floor. It was then that the woman flung up her own arms
and encircled the stooping Russian in a fierce and passionate grasp.
He laughed a little, deep in his throat. She told herself that she was
at least imprisoning his hands.

Durkin's blow caught the bending figure just at the base of the skull,
behind the ear.