“That settles it,” he thought. “Mart is kept a prisoner right here.”
Leo had armed himself, and now he walked to one of the kitchen windows.
He opened the blinds. The window itself was locked, but bringing out his pocketknife he shoved back the catch.
Another moment and the lower sash was raised and the young gymnast leaped into the house.
He did not care if his enemies were present. He was prepared to fight, if need be.
But, as he surmised, the lower floor of the residence was deserted.
With cautious steps Leo left the kitchen and walked toward the stairs leading to the next floor.
As he did so he heard the murmur of voices from above.
He went up and listened with strained ears.
“Mr. Porler, starve me or not, I will never do as you wish.”