her side," Marlowe whispered back.

But when Garth tried the latch noiselessly he found that the door would
open.

"I don't trust you, Papa," he said, "but if you want to make yourself
solid at headquarters find a policeman and tell him what I'm up
against."

The round, white face leered.

"The cops and I seem hand and glove these days. What _are_ you up
against, Mr. Garth? What you want in that empty cellar?"

Garth waved him away; watched him retreat towards the stairs, squinting
his beady eyes, mouthing unintelligibly.

The detective snapped off his light, aware that he faced the critical
moment. He opened the door and stepped into the black pall of the
warehouse cellar. His memory reinforced him. Other members of the bureau
had taken equal risks, had followed into such places criminals as
desperate as the ones who held Nora. Moreover, they had lacked the
impulse of a vigorous personal motive. They had answered only to the
stimulation of duty. Not frequently they had emerged successful,
unharmed.

He held his revolver ready. He moved to one side and paused. For some
moments the silence was broken only by the drumming of his pulse in his
ears. He realized it was not unlikely that the cellar was empty save for
himself. The men might have led Nora into it as a trick to confuse the
police. Nora's cry might have marked their departure by some ingeniously
contrived exit. As his own immediate danger appeared to diminish his
disappointment and anxiety increased. He had been prepared to risk
everything for Nora. As if it had actually been prolonged to this
moment, her cry still vibrated in his brain. Inaction was no longer
bearable. He must assure himself that the cellar was, indeed, empty. He
must find that exit and continue his pursuit. He stepped forward.

Light flashed, and from the sudden, sparkling confusion a remembered
laugh jeered at him.

CHAPTER XX

THE BLACK CAP

Four shadowy figures stood in front of him, holding flashlights. Behind
the blinding barrier he could make out Nora, crouched against a stained
and rugged wall. And the brute, George, was at her side, his muscular
hands on her arm. Slim stepped out of the obscurity, moving for Garth
with a stealth and an evenness nearly cat-like.

Garth raised his revolver, strengthened by the knowledge that the
inspector with many men would soon be tearing through the cellar doors.
If only he could postpone the issue for himself--fight for time un