cked. The wall
began to slide into place again.

"Let's rush it," said the man with the briefcase suddenly.

"Why?" asked Summersby. The wall closed and they were alone, staring at
one another.

* * * * *

"There wasn't anything we could do," the Negro said. "It happened too
quick. But if it comes in again we better fight it." He looked around,
plainly expecting to be contradicted. "We can't get split up like this."

"Possibly one of us can suggest something," said the husband. He was a
sober-looking man of about twenty-eight or thirty, with a face veneered
by stubborn patience. "We should make a real try at escape."

"We know where the door is, at least," said the blond man. He went to
the sliding wall and threw his weight obliquely against it. "Give me a
hand here, will you, big fellow?"

"You won't move it that way," said Summersby. He sat down on the
automobile tire, which seemed to have been chewed on by some large
animal. "It's probably electrically operated."

"We can try, can't we?"

Summersby did not answer. In one corner, six feet off the floor, was a
thing he had not noticed before, a network of silver strands like an
enormous spider's web or a cat's cradle. He stared at it, but after the
first moment he did not actually see it. He was thinking of the forest,
and wishing dully that he might have died there.

The woman spoke sharply, intruding on his detachment; he hoped someone
would sit on her. "Will you please _do_ something, Calvin! We must get
out of this place."

"Where are we, anyway?" asked the Negro boy, who looked about nineteen,
a tall, well-built youth with beautiful hands. "How'd they get us here?
And what was that thing that took the Mex?"

"It doesn't matter where we are," snapped the woman.

"Yes, it does, ma'am," said the youth. "We got to know how they brought
us here before we can escape."

"The hell we do," said the blond man. "We can't guess our location until
we get out. I think you're right about the door," he told Summersby.
"There isn't any lock to it you could reach from inside. The mechanism
for sliding and locking must be inside the wall itself. Nothing short of
a torch will get through to it." He came over to Summersby. "We'll have
to gimmick it next time it opens."

"With what?" asked the woman's husband.

"Something small, so it won't be noticed."

"Your briefcase?" suggested the husband, who had a hard New England
twang.

"N