As the echo died down, he listened again.
Yes, there was a sound--a scream perhaps--a woman's voice, faint,
but unmistakable.
I looked at his face inquiringly. Without a word I read in it the
confirmation of the thought that had flashed into my mind.
Elaine Dodge was inside!
. . . . . . . .
First had come the limousine, with its three bandits, to the spot
fixed on as a rendezvous. Later had come the taxicab. As it hove
into sight, the three well-dressed crooks had drawn revolvers,
thinking perhaps the plan for getting rid of Kennedy might
possibly have miscarried. But the taxicab driver and the rough-
faced fellow had reassured them with the sign of the Clutching
Hand, and the revolvers were lowered.
As they parleyed hastily, the rough-neck and the fake chauffeur
lifted Elaine out of the taxi. She was bound and gagged.
"Well, now we've got her, what shall we do with her?" asked one.
"It's got to be quick. There's another cab," put in the driver.
"The deuce with that."
"The deuce with nothing," he returned. "That fellow Kennedy's a
clever one. He may come to. If he does, he won't miss us. Quick,
now!"
"I wish I'd broken his skull," muttered the roughneck.
"We'd better leave her somewhere here," remarked one of the
better-dressed three. "I don't think the chief wants us to kill
her--yet," he added, with an ominous glance at Elaine, who in
spite of threats was not cowed, but was vainly struggling at her
bonds.
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