Sweat came out, cold and clammy, on Mike’s skin. He would have been caught in there! He would have strangled! Hunched upon the floor of the smelly little book-closet, he shivered in uncontrollable terror from sheer horror at what he had escaped. Again he longed to get away from the factory, at any cost.
“’Most through,” said the abstracted voice, outside. “Wonder why I’m telling you, Jack? You see, I need the stuff in there. Need it in my business. I’m going to take it, but I don’t want to have detectives chasing around to try to find the thief. With your fingerprints on the knob, they’d look for you, of course, but you might have proved an alibi to make ’em look farther. And also, Jack, you’re too damned fascinating. I was getting along pretty well with Ethel, until she met you. I want to get you out of the way. With you dead, she’ll marry me, sooner or later. I’m going to tap you on the head again, Jack, and put you in here. The doors will close on you. In the morning they’ll find that you opened the vault, passed out quite a lot of stuff to a confederate, and then by accident touched off the alarm that closes the doors. A sandbag doesn’t leave any sign, and I used straps to tie you up so there’ll be no marks on your wrists. I’ve thought of pretty nearly everything, Jack. I’ve even taken out all the pencils and fountain pens from your pockets. I’ve no notion of your writing an accusation of me while you’re in there; also I don’t want to kill you before you go in there. I want you to show the signs of dying from–er–the natural cause of being locked in an air-tight vault.... Ah....”
There was a series of tiny clicks, then a faint creaking. Mike, in his hiding-place, with the smell of dust and books and new-placed rubber insulation in his nostrils, knew that the great doors had swung open.
There was a pause, and the little snap of a watch-case.
“Watchman’s due in half an hour. Plenty of time.”
The voice stopped.
The man seemed to be listening. That was what Mike would have done. He lay utterly and completely motionless, barely breathing. He was queerly afraid of the man he had not seen. Perhaps because of that, Mike felt a sudden cramp in one of his legs, a sharp, tingling, shooting pain. He could not run on a leg like that. It might give way beneath him.
“All clear,” said the voice, with a certain ghastly cheerfulness. “But in case you’re thinking that I might set off the trap, Jack, I’d like to mention that after I had you neatly trussed up, I pulled out the switch. It’s in that little closet back there. I shall turn it on after I’ve got the stuff out–and then the doors will close on you. But first I’ll tap you on the head, and put you inside.”
Mike shivered. The smell of insulation.... The switch was in the closet in which he was hiding! In a little while more the unknown would come in where he was! Sheer panic came over Mike. It was with a terrific effort that he calmed himself, trying to figure out an escape from the inevitable struggle. The other man would open the door. He, Mike, was inside. At best there would be a struggle. At worst....