of the lamp seemed to assume the aspect of two monstrous gargoyles, and
to spin around and around before her vision; and then--it could only
have been but the fraction of a second since she had begun to beckon to
Pinkie and the Pug--she felt herself pulled unceremoniously away from
the door, and the Pug leaned forward in her place, his eyes to the crack
in the panel.

She heard a low, quick-muttered exclamation from the Pug; and then
suddenly, as the lamp was obviously extinguished, that crack of light
in the panel had vanished. But in an instant, curiously like a jagged
lightning flash, light showed through the crack again--and vanished
again. It was the flash of a revolver shot from within, and the roar of
the report came now like the roll of thunder on its heels.

Rhoda Gray was back against the opposite wall. She saw the Pug fling
himself against the door. It was a flimsy affair. It crashed inward. She
heard him call to Pinkie:

"Shoot yer flash on de table, an' grab de coin! I'll fix de other guy!"

Were eternities passing? Her eyes were fascinated by the interior beyond
that broken door. It was utterly dark inside there, save that the ray
of a flashlight played now on the table, and a hand reached out and
snatched up a scattered sheaf of banknotes; and on the outer edge of the
ray two shadowy forms struggled and one went down. Then the flashlight
went out She heard the Pug speak:

"Beat it!"

Commotion came now; cries and footsteps from around that corner in the
passage. The Pug grasped her by the shoulders, and rushed her back into
the cellar. She was conscious, it seemed, only in a dazed and mechanical
way. There were men in the passage running toward them--and then the
passage had disappeared. Pinkie Bonn had shut the connecting door.

"Hop it like blazes!" whispered the Pug, as they ran for the faint
glimmer of light that located the cellar exit. "Separate de minute we're
outside!" he ordered. "Dere's murder in dere. Pete shot Marny. I put
Pete to sleep wid a punch on de jaw; but de bunch knows now some one
else was dere, an' Pete'll swear it was us, though he don't know who we
was dat did de shootin'. I gotta make dis straight right off de bat wid
Danglar." His whispering voice was labored, panting; they were climbing
up the steps now. "Youse take de money to my room, Pinkie, an' wait
fer me. I won't be much more'n half an hour. Nan, youse beat it fer yer
garret, an' stay dere!"

They were outside.