in the empty house. Yet in spite of it he was sure it was
a woman who had admitted them.

"This way," Black said.

Garth followed, scarcely breathing. Where would he find Nora? How would
he find her?

A door opened ahead, and at last there was a light--a subdued, brown
light, unhealthy, suggestive of a melancholy repose.

Black went first, then Garth, into an inner hallway, which was saturated
with this aberrant radiance.

Garth turned sharply to inspect the woman who had followed them in. He
drew back. He controlled his gasp of relief and gratitude, for it was
Nora herself who had opened the door for them and who stood now on the
threshold of the hall. Yet he saw that his presence, instead of bringing
to them a grateful welcome, had drawn into her eyes a fear which quickly
approached despair.

She wore the apron and the cap of a housemaid, transparent hints as to
how she had found an entrance and remained here, unmolested. Her
features, in addition, were subtly changed, so that one, less acquainted
with them than Garth, might have passed her unrecognizing.

His astonishment had held him longer than was discreet. He turned at a
sound to find his conductor gone. He knew what that portended. He cursed
his carelessness.

Nora took his arm.

"What are you doing here?" she whispered tensely. "Go before it's too
late. I knew they suspected trouble to-night, but I never dreamed of
your getting in here alone. Go--the way you came."

"To be caught in the yard?" he scoffed. "That fellow's given me away by
this time. They'll watch that exit first."

He ran along the hallway. The strange brown light appeared to have given
the air a substantial resistance. He breathed it with distaste. It
choked him. At the foot of the stairs Nora caught his arm again.

"Where are you going?"

"Up there," he answered. "I haven't the ghost of a show in this
suffocating basement. They'll look for me here first."

He climbed the stairs. She followed him.

"Jim," she breathed, "it's hopeless. They'll never let you out."

He turned at the head of the stairs. The same dim, unreal light was
repugnant in his lungs here. A repellent odor, not to be classified,
crept into his nostrils, made him want to cough. Heavy purple hangings
were draped across two doorways.

"Tell me the lay-out," he whispered. "Quick! The yard isn't the only
getaway?"

"Except the roof and the front," she whispered back, "and they're
locked. The head one keeps t