woman's skirts, and crouched there. He could hear her breathing, quick and tense, as she waited. Yet even at that moment he was conscious of the fact that he did not want her to know he was hiding there, that he was using her as a shield.
It was then that he heard Morello's voice out of the darkness, quite close to him.
"No!" proclaimed the Neapolitan, with a catch of the breath that was almost a grunt of contempt. "I will not shoot! But I will cut his heart out!"
Kestner edged forward to the table again, padding quickly and lightly about its surface. He had started to grope through the foolish and faded black draperies for his own automatic, when he remembered the other revolver which the woman had taken from the drawer. He felt a little easier in mind when he held it in his band.
As he backed away again he could hear Morello cross the room. He listened intently, for he had no love for naked steel. The next moment he heard a key turned in a lock, and then the sound of the key withdrawn.
"What are you doing?" asked the woman's voice through the blackness. Kestner knew she was still standing close behind the table.
"Turn on the lights," panted Morello.
Kestner dropped on his hands and knees and wormed his way over to where he remembered the wires ran from the table to the floor. He caught and twisted them together, using the revolver-barrel for a lever. He twisted them until they snapped under the strain. He knew then that the light-circuit was broken.
