Quest closed the door carefully. Craig sat where he had been ordered, his fingers gripping the arms of the chair. In his eyes shone the furtive, terrified light of the trapped criminal.
Quest looked him over a little scornfully. It was queer that a man with apparently so little nerve should have the art and the daring to plan such exploits.
“What do you want with me?” Craig asked doggedly.
“First of all,” Quest replied, “I want to know what you have done with my assistant, the girl whom you carried off from the Professor’s garage.”
Craig shook his head.
“I know nothing about her.”
“She locked you in the garage,” Quest continued, “and sent for me. When I arrived, I found the garage door open, Lenora gone and you a fugitive.”
Bewilderment struggled for a moment with blank terror in Craig’s expression.
“How do you know that she locked me in the garage?”
Quest smiled, stretched out his right arm and his long fingers played softly with the pocket wireless.