the brick chimney. The door would never
give as a whole; it would have to be smashed in by axes. He then set the
candle on the floor, backed by an up-ended soapbox. His enemies would
drop into a pool of light, while they would not be able to see him at
once. The girl would not matter. Her terror would hold her for some
time. These manoeuvres completed, he answered the signal, sat down on
another box and waited, reminding Kitty of some grotesque Mongolian
idol.

Kitty saw the inevitable. Thereupon her terror ceased to bind her. As
Cutty flung back the trap she would cry out a warning. Karlov might--and
probably would--kill her. Her share in this night's work--her incredible
folly--required full payment. Having decided to die with Cutty, all her
courage returned. This is the normal result of any sublime resolve. But
with the return of her courage she evolved another plan. She measured
the distance between herself and Karlov, calculating there would be
three strides. As Cutty dropped she would fling herself upon the madman.
The act would at least give Cutty something like equal terms. What
became of Kitty Conover thereafter was of no importance to the world.

Sounds. She became conscious of noises elsewhere in the house. The floor
trembled. There came a creaking and snapping of wood, and she heard
the trap fall. Karlov stood up, menacing, terrible. She saw where Cutty
would drop, and now understood the cunning of the manoeuvre of placing
the candle in front of the soapbox. Cutty would be an absolute mark for
Karlov, protected by the shadow. She set herself, as a runner at the
tape.

Karlov was not the type criminal, which when cornered, thinks only of
personal safety. He was a political fanatic. All who opposed his beliefs
must not be permitted to survive. There was a touch of Torquemada of the
Inquisition in his cosmos. He could not kill directly; he had to torture
first.

He knew by the ascending sounds that there would be no way out of this
for him. To the American, Russia was an outlaw. He would be treated as
a dangerous alien enemy and locked up. Boris Karlov should never live to
eat his heart out behind bars.

Unique angle of thought, he mused. He wanted mud to trample them in,
Russian mud. The same mud that had filled the mouth of Anna's destroyer.

He was, then, a formidable antagonist for any two strong men; let alone
two one of whom was rather spent, the other dizzy with pain, holding
himself together by t