Canadian fiction -- 20th century; Detective and mystery stories
"If he tries to come in...?"
"Slip through the door behind you."
Don made to creep away from her. She laid a hand on his arm. "Wait!"
There was no further sound from the man outside.
"He's not coming in," Pen whispered. "He's out there to cut off your
escape."
A tremendous rat-tat-tat resounded through the empty halls.
"I shouldn't have slept!" murmured Don.
"It's all right!" whispered Pen. "I intended you should stay here."
"I feel trapped within walls!"
"You are safest here!"
The knocking was imperiously repeated. Outside Pen's door they heard
her father's agitated voice.
"Pen, are you there?"
"Yes, Dad," she said coolly.
"Stay where you are, my dear. I'll go down."
For the third time that night the worthy little man pattered down
stairs in his bare feet.
Pen opened her door an inch. She heard her father's prudent inquiry
through the closed door, and a gruff voice outside reply:
"Open the door!"
Pendleton remonstrated, and the voice, Delehanty's, was brutally raised:
"Open the door or I'll smash it in!"
She heard the key squeak in the lock. Pendleton's remonstrances were
drowned in the sounds made by the entrance of a number of men.
Pendleton's voice was raised in agonized tones. Delehanty said:
"We're going to search the house!"
Pen had the sense that her little father was trying to bar them out by
main strength. Signing to Don to remain where he was, she hastened to
the head of the stairs. She called down:
"Let them in, father. We have nothing to hide."
Returning to her room she locked the door. Her father came up stairs
accompanied by a pair of shod feet. His voice at Pen's door was
utterly bewildered.
"They insist on searching the house ... searching the house! At this
hour!"
"Well, that's all right," said Pen.
"They say if you'll stay quietly in your room they'll leave that until
last. There's a man out here on guard. Better dress, dear."
"I shall be all right," said Pen.
She turned and kissed Don with a smile on her lips. Her eyes shone
with the light of battle.
He looked more dubious. "Is your way of retreat still open?" he
whispered.
She nodded.
"Well then...?"
"Wait till they come up stairs."
She listened with her ear at the crack of the door. Vague sounds arose
from below. She was tormented by her inability to hear exactly.
Finally she motioned to Don to stand back out of any possible range of
vision, and opening the door, she put her head around it.
Instantly a flash-light was thrown on her and a voice said:
"You can't come out, Miss."
"I don't want to come out," said Pen coolly. "I want to hear what's
going on in my house."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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