Madge was a girl of the underworld. She followed a code in which love vied with hate. One instant could change her feelings to the uttermost extreme. She closed the door softly.
Cliff placed Arline in a chair. He clutched his automatic and looked about him. He remembered Madge. He owed this meeting to that girl.
Cliff felt a fond friendliness for Madge. He had never loved her; but he pitied her plight. She was far too good a moll for a wretch like Killer Durgan. Cliff whispered to Arline.
“There’s a girl here,” he said. “Where is she?”
“In the next room,” replied Arline. “It adjoins this one. That’s where — where the brute who brought me here stays. He went out — with another man. They will be back soon.
“The girl — her name is Madge — was locked in here with me. She found the door to the next room open; but it was bolted from the outside like this one. She’s there now. We must get her—”
Arline’s head dropped forward. She was about to fall from the chair. Dropping his automatic on the cot, Cliff grasped her before she slipped to the floor. As he steadied her, Arline recovered her senses and smiled.
“I’m all right, Cliff,” she said. “I’m all right, Cliff—”
Her happy look turned to one of sudden terror. She was staring over Cliff’s shoulder. The man turned quickly.
There, in the center of the room, stood Ernie Shires, revolver in hand. The gangster had entered through the door from the hall. He had closed it behind him.