Now a voice rang out, "Open in the name of the Law."
No one moved.
He again gripped the back of the chair, his face deathly white, his jaw set, his eyes with a sullen gleam in them.
I turned to look at her. Her hands were outstretched on the table, her dilated eyes staring straight at the bolt as if her whole life depended on its strength.
Again came the command to open, this time in a voice that allowed no question as to the determination of the outsider:
"Open in the name of the Law."
No one moved or answered.
A crashing thud, from a heavy beam, snapped the bolt from its screws, another blow tore loose the door. Through the opening and over the débris sprang a short, broad-shouldered man in a gray suit, while three other heavily built men entered, barring the exit.
The woman screamed and fell forward on the table, her head buried in her clenched hands. The Baron faced the one in gray.
"What do you want?" he stammered in the voice of a ghost.