cut him short; then blow after blow shook the doors until there came a sharp snap, a clinking of metal, and a triangular bit of iron fell inwards leaving a hole through which struggled a ray of light.
Instantly West knelt, and shoving his revolver through the aperture fired every cartridge. For a moment the alley resounded with the racket of the revolver, then absolute silence followed.
Presently a single questioning blow fell upon the door, and a moment later another and another, and then a sudden crack zigzagged across the iron plate.
“Here,” said West, seizing Colette by the wrist, “you follow, me, Braith!” and he ran swiftly toward a circular spot of light at the further end of the cellar. The spot of light came from a barred man-hole above. West motioned Braith to mount on his shoulders,
“Push it over. You must!”
With little effort Braith lifted the barred cover, scrambled out on his stomach, and easily raised Colette from West’s shoulders.
“Quick, old chap!” cried the latter.
Braith twisted his legs around a fence chain and leaned down again. The cellar was flooded with a yellow light and the air reeked with the stench of petroleum torches. The iron door still held, but a whole plate of metal was gone, and now as they looked a figure came creeping through holding a torch.
“Quick!” whispered Braith, “Jump!” and West hung dangling until Colette grasped him by the collar and he was dragged out. Then her nerves gave way and she wept hysterically, but West threw his arm around her and led her across the gardens into the next
