The fellow grabbed for Rusty. 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."