Nick removed the black bag and still found himself in inky darkness. He could discover in no direction the faintest ray of light. He waited a few seconds, thinking he might be released from these stuffy quarters, but not a sound broke the tomblike silence.
Deciding not to use his searchlight, lest it might betray him if he was being covertly watched, Nick fished out a match from his pocket and lit it.
The flame revealed four bare walls of wood, a ceiling and floor of like planking, the whole forming a boxlike structure about five feet square. As well as he then could judge from the brief flickering light from the match, there was no way to open it from the inside.
“Box is right, by Jove,” he said to himself, with increasing suspicions. “I may be in more of a box than I bargained for right off the reel. Can it be that these rascals already suspect——”
A quick, metallic snap cut short Nick’s train of thought.[{34}]
A panel in one of the walls flew open, slipping quickly to one side. It revealed a window about a foot square and nearly six feet from the floor.
Through it came a flood of electric light from a corridor, only a small part of which could be seen by the detective.
Nick’s attention was instantly claimed, moreover, by something more portentous—the head and face of a man gazing through the bright opening.
They were the head and face of—Andy Margate.