"Don't you say nothin'. I'll be 'anging arahnd close be'ind, and before they shuts it again I'll 'ave me foot inside. We'll do the talkin' then."
Nancy nodded, to show that she understood, and, walking on bravely through the gloom, pulled up in front of the suspected dwelling. A glimmer of light in the front room revealed the presence of a dilapidated knocker. She drew in a long breath, which seemed to steady her throbbing heart, and then, stepping forward, gave a couple of sharp raps.
Almost at once she became conscious that someone was inspecting her from inside the window. The scrutiny must have lasted for several seconds, then the face was suddenly withdrawn, and a moment later she could hear the approach of shuffling footsteps.
After another pause the door began to open. It went back slowly until there was a space of about six inches, and through the gap a pair of suspicious eyes peered out at the visitor.
"Well," demanded a croaking voice, "wot d'yer want 'ere?"
Even if Nancy had been prepared with a reply she would have had no time to deliver it. Silently as a tiger Joe leaped forward out of the darkness, and, bringing every ounce of his weight to bear at the right moment, hurled himself against the panel. There was a shrill cry and the sound of a heavy fall as the door crashed inward, then Nancy found herself clutching the railings and staring at the vague outline of two figures who seemed to be scuffling furiously on the floor of the passage.
She was recalled to action by the voice of Joe.
"I got 'er," he gasped triumphantly. "Come along in, miss, an' shut the door."
Snatching out her revolver, Nancy stepped across the threshold, and with commendable coolness proceeded to carry out his instructions. The task only occupied her a moment, but by the time she had finished, Joe was on his feet again, swearing softly to himself and sucking vigorously at his left thumb. "Bit me to the bone, the 'ell-cat," he observed. "And I 'andled 'er gently, too, jest 'cos she 'appened to be a woman." He paused, and, bending forward, listened intently. "Darned if it don't seem as if she was alone in the 'ouse," he added.
Nancy advanced to where he was standing, and in the flickering candle-light which came out through the open door of the room looked down at the prostrate figure on the ground. It was that of a gaunt, middle-aged woman, clad in a dirty dressing gown, with dishevelled hair streaming over her face and neck. A rolled-up handkerchief had been thrust into her mouth, and her wrists were tied together by the scarf which had formerly decorated Joe's neck. Out of her bloodshot eyes she glared up malevolently at the pair of them.