"I'm damn glad to go!" The iron doors shut behind her.

Bailey watched the Unknown intently.
One moment of relaxed vigilance and-- But though the Unknown was unlocking the door with his left hand the revolver in his right hand was as steady as a rock.

He seemed to listen for a moment at the crack of the door.
"Not a sound if you value your lives!" he warned again, he shepherded them away from the direction of the window with his revolver.
"In a moment or two," he said in a hushed, taut voice, "a man will come into this room, either through the door or by that window--the man who started the fire to draw you out of this house." Bailey threw aside all pride in his concern for Dale's safety.
"For God's sake, don't keep these women here!" he pleaded in low, tense tones.
The Unknown seemed to tower above him like a destroying angel.
"Keep them here where we can watch them!" he whispered with fierce impatience.

"Don't you understand?
There's a KILLER loose!" And so for a moment they stood there, waiting for they knew not what.
So swift had been the transition from joy to deadly terror, and now to suspense, that only Miss Cornelia's agile brain seemed able to respond.
And at first it did even that very slowly.
"I begin to understand," she said in a low tone.

"The man who struck you down and tied you in the garage--the man who killed Dick Fleming and stabbed that poor wretch in the closet--the man who locked us in downstairs and removed the money from that safe--the man who started that fire outside--is--" "Sssh!" warned the Unknown imperatively as a sound from the direction of the window seemed to reach his ears.