Harry raised himself with his hands and managed to gain his feet. Leaning against the wall, he managed to grope his way to the door. There was no knob or other projection that might serve as a method of opening the door.
Midway between the sides of the door, about six feet from the floor, was a tightly-fitted square of metal.
Harry pressed it with his fingers, but it did not yield.
There was one special peculiarity of this single entrance to the room. The door did not extend to the floor. Its bottom edge was fully a foot above the level on which Harry stood. The top of the door was half way up the wall, which was about fifteen feet in height.
Harry moved back along the wall of the passagelike compartment and discovered several thin slits that ran from floor to ceiling. There were eight of these in all — four on each side of the passage. They were about one inch in width. Harry placed his fingers in one crevice but discovered nothing.
He went to the other end of the room and tapped against the thick glass behind which the lights were located. He sat down on the floor and rubbed his head. He felt a lump and recalled that his last experience had been a forceful blow that had ended consciousness.
He felt in his pockets and found them empty. Even his watch had been taken.
Harry was glad that he had carried no identifying papers. Both he and Clyde Burke had adopted that precaution. It was a good policy to use when one went forth on a venture that might result in capture such as this.
Yet Harry had not anticipated this ending to his following of Rodney Paget. The clubman had never impressed him as being dangerous.
A SOUND attracted Harry’s attention. The noise came from the door. The tiny square in the middle of the door was sliding upward. Harry fancied that he saw the gleam of two eyes peering in.