In one hand he held the flashlight. Under his arm was a bundle of corrugated paper such as is used in wrapping books for mailing. He was standing by a square opening in the wall. Lucile knew in a vague sort of way where that opening led. Books that had been wrapped were dropped in there. A circular spiral chute, some three feet in diameter, wormed its way like an auger hole down from this point to the sub-basement where was located the shipping room.
Even as she thought this through she saw Laurie swing his feet across the opening. Then, just as the light flashed out, she again saw that amused grin. The next second there came the sound of some heavy object gliding downward.
“He—he went down the chute!” she gasped. “He’ll be killed!”
How long she stood there, petrified with surprise and dread, she could not have told. It could not have been many seconds but it seemed an hour. At last the end came, a sickening thud sounding faint and far away.
Without uttering a sound, but with heart beating wildly and feet flying at almost superhuman speed, the girl raced across the room and down a flight of broad marble stairs.
“I must find him. He is hurt. Perhaps he is killed!” she kept repeating to herself.
Down one flight; down two; three; four, she sped.
And then, in the darkness of this vast shipping room, she paused to listen.
Not a sound. She may as well have been alone in the catacombs of Egypt or the Mammoth Cave.
“Must be this way,” she breathed.