Back in his private room, he quickly stepped to a curtained iron
door. Pushing back the curtains, he went through it and
disappeared, the curtains falling back.
At the end of the passageway, he stopped, in a sort of grotto or
cave. As he came out, he looked back. All was still. No one was
about. He was safe here, at least!
Off came the mask and he turned down the road a few rods distant
beyond some bushes, as little concerned about the wild happenings
as any other passer-by might have been.
. . . . . . . .
At the very moment when we burst in, Dr. Morton, seeing his
chance, stopped the blood transfusion, working frantically to stop
the flow of blood.
Kennedy sprang to Elaine's side, horrified by the blood that had
spattered over everything.
With a mighty effort he checked a blow that he had aimed at Dr.
Morton, as it flashed over him that the surgeon, now free again,
was doing his best to save the terribly imperilled life of Elaine.
Just then the police burst through the secret panel and rushed on,
leaving us alone, with the unconscious, scarcely breathing Elaine.
From the sounds we could tell that they had come to the private
room of the Clutching Hand. It was empty and they were non-
plussed.
"Not a window!" called one.
"What are those curtains?"
They pulled them back, disclosing an iron door.
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