Below Zero

This was mere camouflage of speech. I went to the door and opened it.

"Yes, Miss Anderson?" I said.

Even as I spoke I saw that her face was not as usual. She was as while as chalk and her eyes were big with fright, but before I could say more she was thrust aside and five men pushed through the doorway. They had revolvers.

There was no struggle -- what could John and I do against five? What, indeed, could we gain by struggling? I submitted without so much as an angry word. I tried to be unusua...