Thus the Clutching Hand had made
good his escape through the passage which led out, as we later
discovered, to the railroad tracks along the river.
"Down there--Mr. Kennedy--and Mr. Jameson," cried Elaine, pointing
at the trap which was hidden in the stifle.
The fire had gained terrific headway, but the police seized a
ladder and stuck it down into the basement.
Choking and sputtering, half suffocated, we staggered up.
"Are you hurt?" asked Elaine anxiously, taking Craig's arm.
"Not a bit--thanks to you!" he replied, forgetting all in meeting
the eager questioning of her wonderful eyes.
CHAPTER X
THE LIFE CURRENT
Assignments were being given out on the Star one afternoon, and I
was standing talking with several other reporter in the busy hum
of typewriters and clicking telegraphs.
"What do you think of that?" asked one of the fellows. "You're
something of a scientific detective, aren't you?"
Without laying claim to such a distinction, I took the paper and
read:
THE POISONED KISS AGAIN
Three More New York Women Report Being Kissed by Mysterious
Stranger--Later Fell into Deep Unconsciousness. What Is It?
I had scarcely finished, when one of the copy boys, dashing past
me, called, "You're wanted on the wire, Mr. Jameson."
I hurried over to the telephone and answered.
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