“We must go to him!” declared Ruth.
Without waiting for any of the others, she darted down the stairs, but Neale was after her in a trice. They saw a dim light in the cellar as they almost fell down the narrow stairs. The light came from the front part of the dark depths, up toward the street.
“Luke! Luke!” called Neale.
“Is anything the matter?” Ruth demanded anxiously.
“Want any help?” asked Hal. “Shall we come down?”
“No, stay up there and watch the front door!” cried Neale, with sudden suspicion. “There’s queer work going on here! Watch the front door, Hal!”
Neale and Ruth caught a glimpse of a dim form moving about the cellar.
“There’s Luke!” cried Neale. “Luke! Luke! What’s wrong? Why did you cry out?” he asked.
There was no answer. But as Neale and Ruth started forward from the cellar stairs they saw Luke struck down by a club in the hands of some one invisible to them. He fell like a log, and the next moment the cellar was plunged into darkness.