June had a further moment of indecision while she thought out what her line must be. She resolved to go direct to her room and pack her box. Afterwards she must find William and enlist his help in bringing it downstairs, and then she would get a taxi and drive off with her things before Uncle Si discovered his loss. Otherwise. . .!
Her mind had not time to shape the grisly alternative, before the immediate course of events shaped it for her. Suddenly she was aware of a presence lurking in the dark shadows of the shop interior. It was couchant, vengeful, hostile. Almost before June could guess what was happening it had sprung upon her.
With astounding force her right wrist was grasped and twisted behind her back. She gave a little yelp of pain. A second yelp followed, as she struggled to free herself, only to find that she was locked in a vice, and that to fight against it would be agony.
"Now, where is it?" The low voice hissing in her ear was surely that of a maniac. "Where's the picture?" The grip upon her had the strength of ten. "Where is it—eh? As the question was put, her captor shook her fiercely. "Tell me." He shook her again. "Oh, you won't—won't you?" And then she realized that there was something in his hand.
She called wildly for William, but there was no response.
"No use lifting up your voice. The boy's out."
She fought to get free, but with a wrist still locked,
