There was no further attempt to evade the instructions of Labar. He had convinced them, for the time, that he would stand at nothing, and in that confined space even a bad shot could not fail to wreck deadly execution. Yet until he had reached the open he felt far from secure. There was a thrill down his spine, and once or twice he felt tempted to look round. He had an uneasy feeling that he was being stalked from behind. It would be the simplest thing in the world to follow along that narrow passage and shoot him in the back.

So they came to the entrance to Larry’s private room. At a touch the panel slid aside and daylight illumined the opening. From the other side came a sharp cry of surprise and a quick order. Bill Malone had his wits about him.

“Reach for the ceiling, you.”

One by one with their hands above their heads the prisoners filed into the room. Labar stepped in behind them. At the far side of the room stood Bill Malone and Detective Inspector Moreland with revolvers in their hands.