at the exceptional, almost with the effect of a
physical violence, had entered the room ahead of him.

The inspector held the telephone. The receiver was at his ear. His huge
figure projected to Garth an uncontrolled fear. His voice, customarily
rumbling and authoritative, was no more than a groping whisper.

"Why the devil doesn't Nora answer? Do you know, Garth, that Slim and
George are loose on the town?"

Garth started back. He would have responded just so to a blow in the
face.

"They are on their way to the death house," he countered.

"You mean they were," the inspector said, "condemned by your testimony
and Nora's."

His voice rose and thickened.

"I've just got the word. An explosion was planted in front of their van
on the way to the Grand Central. There was a crowd of rats from the
slums. Those birds were torn from the sheriff's men, and their bracelets
knocked off. They were spirited away. But don't you suppose Slim and
George would gamble I'll never let them out of this town? Every exit's
barred now. They know their liberty's only good to pay old debts.
What'll they do at the start?"

Garth braced himself against the desk.

"They'll go for Nora first. Then they'll get me. I've been afraid of it
all along."

"I'm trying to warn her," the inspector raged. "She doesn't answer."

He shouted into the transmitter:

"Are you all dead out there? Get me that number, or by heaven--"

While the inspector stormed to be put in communication with his daughter
Garth tried to plan. Could he devise any useful defence against Slim's
imagination, abnormally clever and inscrutable; or against such naked
brutality as George's? And the malevolence of these two would be all the
more certain in its action since no fear of punishment would restrain
it. The murder, or worse, of Garth and Nora, which undoubtedly they
intended, could earn for them only the death penalty to which they were
already condemned.

"You've got to get Nora," Garth urged the inspector. "The servant at
least should be there."

"Her afternoon out, and Nora said she would be home."

"Then," Garth cried, "they made for her like a shot."

He turned and strode to the door.

"Where are you going, Jim?"

"Keep after that number," Garth called back. "If you get Nora tell her
I'm on the way, and to sit tight."

The inspector tried to stop him.

"You're out of your head. Your only chance is to keep under cover.
They'll give you a bullet in the