“Where’s your flash, Peters?” he growled.
“Haven’t got one, Cap.”
“Here—take mine, then, and show a glim. It’s in my side pocket. My hands are full of girl!”
“Got it,” said Peters, a moment later.
The light came on and Dorothy, between half-shut eyelids saw that they were in a long, dismal corridor.
“I’ll go ahead,” continued the man, “I’ve got the key.”
Down this long corridor they passed, then into another narrow passage running at right angles from the first.
Peters eventually stopped at a door which he unlocked and flung open.
“Here we are,” he announced and preceded them over the sill.
Dorothy caught a glimpse of a small room that smelt of rats and wastepaper with a flavor of bilgewater thrown in. Then she closed her eyes as Donovan dumped her on the bare floor, propping her shoulders against the wall.