“This house belongs to a wealthy family named Carriello. They are traveling in Europe, and have left the house in charge of an Italian and his wife.”
“The woman Teresa?”
“Yes. The two are black-handers, and their gang figured that the police would never suspect that I might be hidden in such a place.”
Suddenly the lights flashed out. The fuse was repaired at last. The kidnappers would be at the door in a few moments!
Carlson gripped Tony’s automatic a little harder, and his left hand fell almost involuntarily on the girl’s shoulder. They waited thus, tensely, hardly breathing, and with quickened heart-beats, until they heard footsteps hurrying up the stairs. Then Carlson drew a deep breath, and whispered:
“They are coming now—but don’t be afraid.”
She said nothing, but raised both her hands and clasped them over his for a moment.
He stepped softly into the darkened bedroom, just as a key turned in the lock. The knob was turned, the door tried—then shaken. There was a short silence. Then, from the “boss:”
“Open the door, you fool!”
Carlson was silent.