He did not answer, but seemed to be listening. We listened also. There certainly was a most peculiar noise inside that tank.
Was it a muffled scream?
Kennedy reached down and picked up a rock, hitting the tank a resounding blow. As the echo died down, he listened again.
Yes, there was a sound—a scream perhaps—a woman's voice, faint, but unmistakable.
I looked at his face inquiringly. Without a word I read in it the confirmation of the thought that had flashed into my mind.
Elaine Dodge was inside!
. . . . . . . .
First had come the limousine, with its three bandits, to the spot fixed on as a rendezvous. Later had come the taxicab. As it hove into sight, the three well-dressed crooks had drawn revolvers, thinking perhaps the plan for getting rid of Kennedy might possibly have miscarried. But the taxicab driver and the rough-faced fellow had reassured them with the sign of the Clutching Hand, and the revolvers were lowered.
As they parleyed hastily, the rough-neck and the fake chauffeur lifted
Elaine out of the taxi. She was bound and gagged.
"Well, now we've got her, what shall we do with her?" asked one.