"How is everything?" inquired Locke.
"All arranged. You'll get Paul right."
Just then a man slouched past.
"Follow that fellow," whispered Dora.
Locke nodded and did so.
The man proceeded into the café and Locke followed. But instead of sitting down in the main room the man passed through into an inner room. Locke followed. He looked about. It seemed to be a sort of storeroom, as nearly as he could make out.
His guide pressed a secret panel and, stepping through an aperture, beckoned Locke to follow. Locke drew his automatic and went ahead in the inky blackness that lay beyond the panel. The next moment the very floor under his feet seemed to give way. He felt himself thrown down bodily into a sort of subcellar.
Locke was immediately pounced upon by lurking emissaries who seized him after a terrific battle and held him firmly.
"Where's a rope?" growled one.
There was no answer as the men struggled. The question was repeated. Apparently one of them looked about.