Again came the faint tap, and then down from far below the purring jar of electrical apparatus in motion. There was silence inside the room for a moment and then Geoffrey saw the handle turn. It was turned softly at first, then more quickly, and finally it was tugged as an angry child snatches at a toy.
Ralph chuckled. The diabolical mirth seemed to come deep from his throat.
"She is trying to get out," Geoffrey whispered.
"Of course she is," Ralph replied. "But not quite yet."
The lock was rattling loudly by this time; there was a half-angry, half-frightened muttering from within. And then there came a long, piercing, wailing scream, as of a woman in the last agony before death.
Geoffrey would have started back, but Ralph restrained him.
"No, no," he whispered violently. "It is all right; everything is turning out splendidly."
"But she is a woman and in deadly peril, uncle."
"I know it, lad. Five minutes more and that fiend will be beyond further mischief. She has been trying the effect of her infernal contrivance and will be hoist with her own petard. She is scared to death. She imagines she has fastened herself in and can't get out."