“Come on!”
Without waiting to see if her order was obeyed, she ran to the stairs that led up to the first floor. At the top of the short flight, she found a closed door. She opened it and stepped into the kitchen, with Betty at her elbow. Locking the door behind them, she flashed her light about the room, then walked over to a table and pulled out the drawer.
“Here—take this!”
Betty stepped back as a large kitchen knife was thrust in her direction.
“Take it!” commanded Dorothy and again the smaller girl unwillingly did as she was told.
“But—but you can’t mean we’re going to fight them with knives,” she spluttered, “why, Dorothy—I just couldn’t—”
“Don’t talk rot!” Dorothy’s tone was caustic. “Please cut the argument, now—I know what I’m doing!”
Betty trotted at her heels as she crossed the kitchen toward the front of the house, passed through a swinging door into the dining room. An arched doorway to their right, brought the hall into view, and beyond it, another door stood open, leading into the lighted library, where they saw its single occupant still tied to his chair.
“Go in there and cut him loose,” directed Dorothy.
She pushed Betty into the room and raced for the open front door. She heard the sound of voices from the drive as she neared the end of the hall. She could see the figures of two men just beyond the front steps. Just as her hand reached the door handle, they turned in her direction and the black night was seared with the sharp red flash from an automatic.