They carried him up the stairs and into an old, disused room to which Dora followed, and when the two men had descended the stairs she remained, alternately ministering to Paul and listening for what might happen below.
Paul and Dora had left the main room of the shack not a moment too soon. For barely had the two men who had carried Paul to the attic returned when a face was momentarily seen outside, while a pair of eyes peered into the room.
A moment later there was a peremptory knock at the door.
"Come in!" growled Old Tom.
With eyes that scanned every cranny and nook and searched every face, Locke stepped into the shack.
The men came forward a step, then halted. There was something in Locke's face that showed that he was in deadly earnest and not to be trifled with.
Locke looked from one to the other, then turned to Old Tom. "The wounded man who was brought here," he demanded, "where is he?"
"There 'ain't been no wounded man brought here," retorted Old Tom.
The men crowded a little closer, all denying vehemently that any one had entered.
At this instant a drop of blood fell on Locke's sleeve from the ceiling above. Quickly he checked the impulse to look up, although he was startled by it. He recovered himself on the instant and waited until under a pretext he could divert their attention to something else. Then he glanced hastily upward, as they looked in another direction. There, forming slowly, was another drop of blood, and it was about to fall.