Be quiet!" Keys jingled softly in the dark; the lock turned gently and the door opened.

In that brief flash of time Pete Johnson noted that there had been no hesitation about which key to use.

His thought flew to the kindly undersheriff.

His hand swept swiftly over the table; a match crackled.
"Smoke ?" said Pete, extending the box with graceful courtesy.
"Fool!" snarled the visitor, and struck out the match.
But Pete had seen.

The undersheriff was a man of medium stature; this large masked person was about the size of the larger of his lately made acquaintances, the brothers Poole.
"Come on!" whispered the rescuer huskily.