Come on."
Seizing the package as he hurried from the room, Kennedy dashed
out on the street and down the outside cellar stairs, followed by
us.
He paused at the thick door and listened. Apparently there was not
a sound from the other side, except a whir of a motor and a roar
which might have been from the furnace. Softly he tried the door.
It was locked on the inside.
Was the bomb-maker there still? He must be. Suppose he heard us.
Would he hesitate a moment to send us all to perdition along with
himself?
How were we to get past that door? Really, the deathlike stillness
on the other side was more mysterious than would have been the
detonation of some of the criminal's explosive.
Kennedy had evidently satisfied himself on one point. If we were
to get into that chamber we must do it ourselves, and we must do
it quickly.
From the package which he carried he pulled out a stubby little
cylinder, perhaps eighteen inches long, very heavy, with a short
stump of a lever projecting from one side.
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