She made a pretense of going to the electric signal.
"It is quite useless," explained the Russian quietly. "The wires are disconnected."
He took out his watch and glanced at it. "Indeed, as a demonstration that others enjoy privileges which you sometimes exert, in two minutes every light in this room will be cut off!"
The woman was panting a little by this time, for her thoughts were of Durkin and his danger, as much as of herself. She struggled desperately to regain her self-possession, for there was no mistaking the quiet but grim determination written on the Russian's pallid face. And she knew he was not alone in whatever plot he had laid.
She would have spoken, only the sudden flood of blackness that submerged her startled her into silence. The lights had gone out.
She demanded of herself quickly, what should be her first move.
While she stood in momentary suspense, a knock sounded still once more on her door.
"Come in," she called out quickly, loudly, now alert and alive to every movement.
It was Keenan who stepped in from the half-lighted hall. He would have paused, in involuntary amazement, at the utter darkness that greeted him, only footsteps approaching and passing compelled him to act quickly.
He stepped inside and closed and locked the door.