“Well, that’s done,” Donovan said with great satisfaction. “Are you going to wait here for the car, Peters, or out in the yard?”
“The yard for mine, Cap. This joint is full o’ spooks. It’s jollier outside.”
“Right. We’ll get going then.”
Peters paused and looked at the girl. “There might be some change—maybe a bill or two in the lady’s pockets, Cap?” He winked at Donovan hopefully.
“You leave the girl’s money alone. The boss distinctly said not to search her. He wants her delivered just as she is.”
“Well, what if she passes out on me hands, Cap?”
“Deliver her just the same. And mind—you obey orders or you’ll bite off a heap more trouble than you can chew. Come along now!”
The two men left the room. The bolt in the door shot home, then the key turned in the lock; As the sound of their footsteps over the bare floor died away, Dorothy opened her eyes. Summoning all her strength, she wrenched at the bonds that held her, but she accomplished no more than lacerating her wrists.
She was to be shifted to some safer place, presumably in Connecticut, where she was to be taken by car. Meanwhile, there was no escape from where she was, even if her limbs were free. Should she show signs of consciousness, the best she had to hope for was another dose of chloroform or a gag when that enterprising thug, Mr. Peters, returned. He was not the kind to leave anything to chance.
Almost before she had got her wits to work, Dorothy heard steps in the passage and let herself go limp again, her knees drawn up, her head and neck against the wall. The bolt was drawn, and Peters entered the room. He flashed the torch over his prisoner.