arger space, they
searched feverishly with the electric torch for some sign of a knob
which would indicate a door, or some button or spring which might be
used to open it. But there was nothing, and in the meantime the smoke
was drifting back, in more and more unendurable clouds.

"I can't stand much more," declared Jerry at length.

"Keep low. The best air is there," answered Ronicky.

A voice called from the mouth of the tunnel, and they could recognize
the smooth tongue of Frederic Fernand. "Doone, I think I have you now.
But trust yourselves to me, and all may still be well with you. Throw
out your weapons, and then walk out yourselves, with your arms above
your heads, and you may have a second chance. I don't promise--I simply
offer you a hope in the place of no hope at all. Is that a good
bargain?"

"I'll see you hung first," answered Ronicky and turned again to his work
at the wall.

But it seemed a quite hopeless task. The surface of the steel was still
covered, after they had cleared it as much as they could, with a thin,
clinging coat of plaster which might well conceal the button or device
for opening the door. Every moment the task became infinitely harder.

Finally Jerry, his lungs nearly empty of oxygen, cast himself down on
the floor and gasped. A horrible gagging sound betrayed his efforts for
breath.

Ronicky knelt beside him. His own lungs were burning, and his head was
thick and dizzy. "One more try, then we'll turn and rush them and die
fighting, Jerry."

The other nodded and started to his feet. Together they made that last
effort, fumbling with their hands across the rough surface, and
suddenly--had they touched the spring, indeed?--a section of the surface
before them swayed slowly in. Ronicky caught the half-senseless body of
Jerry Smith and thrust him inside. He himself staggered after, and
before him stood Ruth Tolliver!

While he lay panting on the floor, she closed the door through which
they had come and then stood and silently watched them. Presently Smith
sat up, and Ronicky Doone staggered to his feet, his head clearing
rapidly.

He found himself in a small room, not more than eight feet square, with
a ceiling so low that he could barely stand erect. As for the
furnishings and the arrangement, it was more like the inside of a safe
than anything else. There were, to be sure, three little stools, but
nothing else that one would expect to find in an apartment. For the rest
ther