“You girls stay in here—I’ll go,” continued George, his hand on the swinging door to the dining room.
“No, you shan’t!” Betty sprang before him, blocking his way.
“Don’t make such a fuss,” said Dorothy. “Somebody’s got to go. Come here!”
Her long arm shot out and Betty was held in a light embrace that seemed as unbending as tempered steel.
“Stop wriggling,” she commanded. “This is George’s job. Did you leave your gun in the library, George?”
“Yes. I’ll pick it up on the way.”
“Better not do that. Maybe it’s one of your neighbors.”
“Haven’t any. None of the people around here come to see me.”
The bell buzzed loudly again, and continued to do so. Someone was keeping a finger pressed on the button beside the front door.
“I have a plan,” Dorothy announced suddenly. “Betty, you stay here, and—”