Rusty was too quick. He jumped.
Around the room they ran. Rusty saw the wide open window--and his
chance. Out he went and disappeared, leaving the man cussing at
him.
A moment's argument followed, then they wrapped Elaine in the
blankets alone, still bound and gagged, and carried her out.
. . . . . . . .
In the secret den, the Clutching Hand was waiting, gazing now and
then at his watch, and then at the wounded man before him. In a
chair his first assistant sat, watching Dr. Morton.
A knock at the door caused them to turn their heads. The crook
opened it and in walked the other crooks who had carried off
Elaine in the suit of armor.
Elaine was now almost conscious, as they sat her down in a chair
and partly loosed her bonds and the gag. She gazed about,
frightened.
"Oh--help! help!" she screamed as she caught sight of the now
familiar mask of the Clutching Hand.
"Call all you want--here, young lady," he laughed unnaturally. "No
one can hear. These walls are soundproof!"
Elaine shrank back.
"Now, doc.," he added harshly to Dr. Morton. "It was she who shot
him. Her blood must save him."
Dr. Morton recoiled at the thought of torturing the beautiful
young girl before him.
"Are--you willing--to have your blood transfused?" he parleyed.
"No--no--no!" she cried in horror,
Dr.
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