Allston acted promptly--the one gamble he was taking being that the door was locked. Gently he pressed the latch and shoved. The door opened and the storm swept down the narrow hall to the lighted living-room beyond. Allston stepped noiselessly into the right-hand room, keeping as near the sill as was safe. He heard an oath from Bud and then silence. Childers was waiting to see what, if anything, followed the opening of that door. Nothing followed but wind-laden rain that made the lamp flicker. The hall was only feebly lighted, but when Bud cautiously ventured to look the length of it he saw enough to be assured that it was empty. And so, quite off his guard, he strode down to close the door. This time he shoved the bolt that locked it. It was while he was at this task, both hands occupied, that Allston sprang. He brought the butt of his automatic down hard just over the man’s temple. Bud staggered and Allston threw his full weight upon him bearing him to the floor. At the same time he found the fellow’s throat. For a moment Allston held on, but Bud was quite still. In falling he had struck his head hard enough to knock him out. From the next room Allston heard the moaning cries of the girl. He called her. “Roxie!” The crying ceased instantly, but he received no reply. “Roxie, come here.” She came on a run then. She saw Allston still full length upon the man. “Find me a rope,” he ordered. “Mister Allston!” “Quick!” She vanished to reappear a few seconds later with a piece of stout cord. Allston turned the fellow over and bound together his two wrists with the army hitch designed for just this purpose. Roxie watched, dazed and breathless with both fear and blind joy. “Now bring the lamp,” he commanded. As long as Allston issued orders to her she could act. If only he would continue--indefinitely. That was all she asked for, just the privilege of obeying. When she returned, Allston stooped and examined the man’s wounds. There were two ugly gashes, one over the temple and one in the blue-black hair. Allston sent for water and when she brought it sopped his handkerchief in it and washed away the blood which had trickled over Childers’s face. Both wounds he discovered to be superficial. He cleaned them as best he could and felt Bud’s pulse. It was steady. In fact, before he was through with his examination and first-aid treatment the man had begun to revive. His eyes flickered open and he tried to make his feet. That was not easy with tied hands and became further complicated as Allston promptly sat on his legs. “Steady there,” he warned. “You’re going to stay put for a while.” Bud experienced difficulty at first in understanding the situation. This was like some evil dream. He twisted and writhed for a moment and then settled back to the inevitable. His lips twitched, but he did not speak. “Now, Roxie,” said Allston, “we must find more rope. Look around, will you?” “You--you gotter watch him,” she panted.