that?" Kowen demanded. "Not in the least, young woman! You do not seem to appreciate what you are facing."
"And you," she said, "do not seem to appreciate what is behind you at this moment!"
"Trying to get me to turn around, so you can make some sort of a move, are you?" the sheriff asked. "That's old stuff—telling a man to look behind him."
"There is something behind you, all right," she said.
A man's voice greeted them from the rear.
"I've got both of you covered! Drop that gun, sheriff!"
Both the sheriff and Verbeck suddenly felt something pressing against the backs of their necks. Each knew what it was—the muzzle of a weapon.
"Drop it!" said the voice again.
The sheriff dropped his gun. He knew it was the only thing to do when another man had the drop on him.
"Sit still! Don't turn around!" said the voice again.
Suddenly the air about the two men was filled with pungent fumes. Their heads dropped forward. Once more a vapor gun had done its work, and done it instantly and well.
Roger Verbeck and Sheriff Kowen returned to consciousness to find that they were bound and gagged and lashed to chairs placed against the wall. The two women were still in the room. Landers was there, too.
"You fail again, Verbeck," he said. "You must
