Part 23 (2/2)

In the instant that Garrison's attention was directed to the unlocked room, old Robinson made a quick retreat to a tiny red box that was screwed against the wall and twice pulled down a bra.s.s ring.

Garrison beheld the action too late to interpose. He knew the thing for a burglar-alarm--and realized his own position.

Meantime Dorothy had not emerged.

”Jerold! Jerold!” she cried. ”My feet are chained!”

”Get in there, both of you, double-quick!” commanded Garrison, and he herded the Robinsons inside the room, fairly pus.h.i.+ng them before him with the gun.

Then he saw Dorothy.

White with fear, her eyes ablaze with indignation at the Robinsons, her beauty heightened by the look of intensity in her eyes, she stood by the door, her ankles bound together by a chain which was secured to the heavy bra.s.s bed.

”Jerold!” she cried as she had before, but her voice broke and tears started swiftly from her eyes.

”Be calm, dear, please,” said Garrison, who had turned on her captors with an anger he could scarcely control. ”You cowards! You infamous scoundrels!” he said. ”Release those chains this instant, or I'll blow off the top of your head!” He demanded this of Theodore.

”The key isn't here,” said the latter, intent upon gaining time since the burglar-alarm had been sprung. ”I left it downstairs.”

”I think you lie,” said Garrison. ”Get busy, or you'll have trouble.”

”It's on his ring, with the key to the door,” said Dorothy. ”They've kept me drugged and stupid, but I saw as much as that.”

Once more Garrison pushed the black muzzle of the gun against Theodore's body. The fellow cringed. The sweat stood out on his forehead. He dropped to his knees and, trembling with fear, fumbled with the keys.

”To think they'd dare!” said Dorothy, who with difficulty refrained from sobbing, in her anger, relief, and nervous strain.

Garrison made no reply. He was fairly on edge with anxiety himself, in the need for haste, aware that every moment was precious, with the town's constabulary doubtless already on the way to respond to the old man's alarm. The rights of the case would come too late, with his and Dorothy's story against the statements of the Robinsons, and he had no intention of submitting to arrest.

”You're wasting time--do better!” he commanded Theodore, and he nudged the gun under his ribs. ”That's the key, that crooked one--use it, quick!”

Theodore dared not disobey. The chain fell away, and Dorothy ran forward, with a sob upon her lips.

”Don't hamper me, dear,” said Garrison, watching the Robinsons alertly.

”Just get your hat, and we'll go.”

Dorothy ran to a closet, drew forth a hat, and cried that she was ready.

”Throw those keys in the hall!” commanded Garrison, and young Robinson tossed them out as directed. ”Now, then, over in the corner with the pair of you!”

The helpless Robinsons moved over to the corner of the room. Dorothy was already in the hall. Garrison was backing out, to lock the door, when Dorothy ran in again beside him.

”Just a minute!” she said, and, going to the bed, despite Garrison's impatience, she turned down the pillow and caught up a bunch of faded roses--his roses--and, blus.h.i.+ng in girlish confusion, ran out once more, and slammed the door, which Garrison locked on her relations.

”Throw the keys under the rug,” he said quietly. ”We've no time to lose. The old man rang in an alarm.”

Dorothy quickly hid the keys as directed. The face she turned to him then was blanched with worry.

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