Tanner suddenly ran to the back of the room and pushed the bureau and the bed over by the front wall. He stripped the closet and piled the clothes by the furniture.
There was a lull in the spanging and a quiet sobbing suddenly filled the room. Stan turned.
Reynolds had collapsed in a corner, half out of his mind with fear. Tears straggled down the big man's face and sobbing convulsed his chest.
Tanner gestured to the front wall. "Get over there, Reynolds!"
The frightened man half crawled, half stumbled over to the tumbled furniture.
"You wanted an explanation, didn't you?" Tanner asked sharply.
Stan knew what was coming. Reynolds had ended up by knowing too much. Which was just too bad for Reynolds.
Reynolds' frightened babbling gradually made sense.
"Get me out of here, Mr. Tanner! Please get me out of here...."
"Gladly," Tanner said grimly. He brought up the heater and a violet beam danced over the crouching man and the bureau and the piled clothing. There was a short, pitiful screaming and then flames shot high into the room and billows of smoke curled casually through the broken windows.