Carlson rushed into the smaller room, kicking two small chairs out of his way and looked behind the screen. Praise be to God! It was a telephone. He jerked the receiver to his ear and began jiggling the instrument frantically. After a few interminable seconds came the blessed words:
"Number, please?"
"Listen, operator—this is a case of life and death. First take down this number—Cartwright 872. . . . Yes. . . . No! No!!—for God's sake don't call it. This is it. Now listen. Have you got this number written down?"
"Yes, sir, but—"
"Listen, I tell you!"
"I am listening!"
"Ina Holden is a prisoner in this house, with telephone Cartwright 872. Do you know who Ina Holden is?"
"You mean the kidnapped girl?"
"Yes. Now get me police headquarters at once. Then, while I am talking with them, you look up Cartwright 872 and phone the police station nearest this place. Quick, for God's sake!"
Another agonizing wait; then—
"Police headquarters speaking."
"Ina Holden is in a house with phone number Cartwright 872. Mark it down." He heard the voice of the officer dictating "Cartwright 872. Ina Holden." Then. "What else, sir?"
"There are at least four armed men in the house, and one woman."
"Where is the house?"
"I don't know. I'm a prisoner with her myself. Send enough men at once to surround the house. Look it up in the numerical index."
Carlson could hear the officer giving rapid orders, and, more faintly, their repetition being shouted out through the station.
"All right, sir. We've located the house, and it will take us about twenty minutes to get to you. I'm sending out a general alarm, and maybe some of our men out there can arrive sooner. How are you fixed?"
"I knocked out one of the men. I and the girl are barricaded in a third floor back room, and we'll try to hold out until your men come."
"Good! Stay at the 'phone as long as you can and keep me informed to the last possible moment. Good luck to you!"
"I'll put the girl at the 'phone, and stand guard myself. Ina!"
"Yes, doctor." She came in quickly, the pistol in her hand.
"Please sit down here and hold the 'phone. The police are on the wire. I'll call out to you how things go, and you report to them. Has Tony moved?"
"No. He doesn't seem to breathe."
Carlson left Ina at the 'phone and went to Tony. He lay absolutely still, just as they had placed him at the foot of the bed. Carlson tore off the mask and turned the face around and listened with his ear to the mouth. Not a sound! Then he used his stethoscope over the heart. Silence! Tony was dead!
Carlson picked up Tony's automatic, turned off the light plug in the large bed room. and went back to Ina. She was at her post, her elbows on the little table, the receiver at her ear. She looked up at him with a grave smile.
"The police have been asking me a lot of questions. How about the man in the next room?"
"Dead. I'm sorry I killed him, but there was nothing else to do. Anyway," said Carlson, "it makes our work easier. We won't have to watch him, and his body will help hold the door a little longer."
He looked quickly around the room.
"And now for our plan of defense until the police come. The barricade in the bedroom may hold till then. But. if it doesn't then we will have to barricade ourselves again in here. We ought to be able to hold out easily."
