THE BRASS BOWL
"That" was the dulled crash of the front door.
Anisty stepped to the table on the instant and plunged the room in darkness.
"Steady!" he told her evenly. "Steady. It can't be—but take no chances. Go to the trunk-closet and get that window open. If it's Maitland,"—grimly—"well, I'll follow."
"What do you mean? What are you going to do?"
"Leave that to me … I've never been caught yet."
Cold fear gripped her heart as, in a flash of intuition, she divined his intention.
"Quick!" he bade her savagely. "Don't you want"
"I can't see," she invented. "Where's the door? I can't see. …"
"Here."
Through the darkness his fingers found hers. "Come," he said.
"Ah!"
Her hand closed over his wrist, and in a thought
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