She hesitated. Should she ask the driver to remain? “No, they’ll see him and make a run for it.” She had thought of a better way. She paid him and as if frightened by his surroundings he sped away.
“Not a moment to lose!” she whispered. Some sixth sense seemed to tell her that this was the place—that the dark one and his victim were inside.
Speeding to a corner where a boy cried his papers, she thrust half a dollar into his hand, and whispered a command:
“Bring a policeman to that house!” She poked a thumb over her shoulder.
“You’ll need three of ’em!” the boy muttered, as he hurried away. She did not hear. She was speeding back.
“Now!” she breathed, squaring her shoulders.
Up the stone steps, a thrust at the doorbell. Ten seconds. No answer. A vigorous thump. A kick. Still no response.
Examining the door, she found it to be a double one.
“Rusty catches. Easy!
“But then?”