close to Morel.”
“Tip,” snapped Mac, looking suddenly at Nellie, “from a guy close to Morel?”
But Nellie was staring at the sheriff, whose attention had suddenly become centered on her head. The sheriff’s hand whipped out, and when it came back it had the dark wig in it. Nellie was revealed in her natural, dark-gold blondness.
“Disguise, huh!” snapped the sheriff. “And you sneak into Morel’s lab like a couple of burglars, over the fence and through a window—”
“We did that because we suspected a trap had been set for us,” explained Nellie. “It had been, too. There was a charge of explosive wired to the gate mechanism and another to the building door—”
“Stop stalling,” said the sheriff. “You killed Morel. We know that. If you confess, things might go a little easier for you. Well?”
The absurd grilling—absurd to Nellie and Mac, at least—went on for an hour. Then they were returned to their cells, each with a pair of nickel-steel bracelets on.
The cells were adjoining—there were only four cells in the place—so they could talk if they each stood close to the cell door.
“This is it!” Nellie said suddenly.
“This is what?” snapped Mac, sore at the crazy twist that had thrown them into the local jail.
“The trap,” said Nellie.
“Huh?”
“This arrest—this jail. This is the trap.”
Mac still didn’t get her and said so.
“The explosive at gate and door were all very well,” Nellie said. “If we got killed by either of them, fine. Lila Morel and one of The Avenger’s aides were out of the way. That’s the way the gang figured it. But if we escaped the explosive, then this was the real trap. This arrest for the murder of Morel.”
“That doesn’t make sense. There’s nothin’ to worry about here.”
“I wonder,” said Nellie.
“But look! There isn’t a chance of proving we’re murderers. We’ll be out of here by morning, with Muster Benson’s help. The worst that can happen is a night in a cell.”
Nellie was shaking her blond head, though Mac couldn’t see that; he could only hear her.
“This is the trap, I tell you,” she repeated. “I’ve got a hunch on it.”
The sheriff and a deputy came in, then.
The four cells were on one side, and taking up the other half of the front of the building was the sheriff’s office, a desk and chair in otherwise vacant space.
“You take over for the night, Lem,” said the sheriff. “This jail ain’t as modern as some. These two are slick customers and might just think of a way out. So you’ll stand guard in here till morning. Here’re the keys.”
“O K,” said the deputy, a burly youth with a grin.
The sheriff went out; the deputy grinned at his two prisoners and sat down in the chair.
There was silence. The deputy looked sleepy and closed his eyes for a minute. It was getting on toward midnight. And then it happened!
It didn’t seem like much at first.
A rat nosed in from somewhere in the rear, and scuttled toward the deputy’s chair. The first thing Mac and Nellie noticed, looking through the bars of their doors, was that the rat was singularly fearless. It ran right up to the chair.
Then they both held their breaths as the rodent circled the chair once.
“Ouch!” yelled the deputy, opening his eyes in a hurry. “What the hell—”
He jumped to his feet. The rat’s teeth had viciously slashed at his ankle.
The deputy roared with anger and pain and snapped out his gun. The youngster was a good shot. The revolver lanced flame, and the rat became a kind of fringe of red flesh.
But then two more rats scuttled in, and then a dozen, and then—
“Mac!”
There were, seemingly, hundreds of rats. They swarmed up the now horrified deputy’s body and seeped into the cells between the bars.
The deputy was yelling and shooting. And Mac and Nellie were kicking frantically at the crazed rodents. They’d had the presence of mind to leap to the windows, which were set high in
“Tip,” snapped Mac, looking suddenly at Nellie, “from a guy close to Morel?”
But Nellie was staring at the sheriff, whose attention had suddenly become centered on her head. The sheriff’s hand whipped out, and when it came back it had the dark wig in it. Nellie was revealed in her natural, dark-gold blondness.
“Disguise, huh!” snapped the sheriff. “And you sneak into Morel’s lab like a couple of burglars, over the fence and through a window—”
“We did that because we suspected a trap had been set for us,” explained Nellie. “It had been, too. There was a charge of explosive wired to the gate mechanism and another to the building door—”
“Stop stalling,” said the sheriff. “You killed Morel. We know that. If you confess, things might go a little easier for you. Well?”
The absurd grilling—absurd to Nellie and Mac, at least—went on for an hour. Then they were returned to their cells, each with a pair of nickel-steel bracelets on.
The cells were adjoining—there were only four cells in the place—so they could talk if they each stood close to the cell door.
“This is it!” Nellie said suddenly.
“This is what?” snapped Mac, sore at the crazy twist that had thrown them into the local jail.
“The trap,” said Nellie.
“Huh?”
“This arrest—this jail. This is the trap.”
Mac still didn’t get her and said so.
“The explosive at gate and door were all very well,” Nellie said. “If we got killed by either of them, fine. Lila Morel and one of The Avenger’s aides were out of the way. That’s the way the gang figured it. But if we escaped the explosive, then this was the real trap. This arrest for the murder of Morel.”
“That doesn’t make sense. There’s nothin’ to worry about here.”
“I wonder,” said Nellie.
“But look! There isn’t a chance of proving we’re murderers. We’ll be out of here by morning, with Muster Benson’s help. The worst that can happen is a night in a cell.”
Nellie was shaking her blond head, though Mac couldn’t see that; he could only hear her.
“This is the trap, I tell you,” she repeated. “I’ve got a hunch on it.”
The sheriff and a deputy came in, then.
The four cells were on one side, and taking up the other half of the front of the building was the sheriff’s office, a desk and chair in otherwise vacant space.
“You take over for the night, Lem,” said the sheriff. “This jail ain’t as modern as some. These two are slick customers and might just think of a way out. So you’ll stand guard in here till morning. Here’re the keys.”
“O K,” said the deputy, a burly youth with a grin.
The sheriff went out; the deputy grinned at his two prisoners and sat down in the chair.
There was silence. The deputy looked sleepy and closed his eyes for a minute. It was getting on toward midnight. And then it happened!
It didn’t seem like much at first.
A rat nosed in from somewhere in the rear, and scuttled toward the deputy’s chair. The first thing Mac and Nellie noticed, looking through the bars of their doors, was that the rat was singularly fearless. It ran right up to the chair.
Then they both held their breaths as the rodent circled the chair once.
“Ouch!” yelled the deputy, opening his eyes in a hurry. “What the hell—”
He jumped to his feet. The rat’s teeth had viciously slashed at his ankle.
The deputy roared with anger and pain and snapped out his gun. The youngster was a good shot. The revolver lanced flame, and the rat became a kind of fringe of red flesh.
But then two more rats scuttled in, and then a dozen, and then—
“Mac!”
There were, seemingly, hundreds of rats. They swarmed up the now horrified deputy’s body and seeped into the cells between the bars.
The deputy was yelling and shooting. And Mac and Nellie were kicking frantically at the crazed rodents. They’d had the presence of mind to leap to the windows, which were set high in
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