Gridley led the way into a large, square room. Like the exterior of the grim stone house, it bore all the earmarks of antiquity. Great beams crossed the faded ceiling. The discolored walls were partly wainscoted. A smoldering log burned in a huge stone fireplace.
The furnishings in the room were old and threadbare. An oil chandelier lighted the scene. It was suspended above a table, on which were several newspapers and a few old books, also a telephone—the only modern fixture in the room.
Kate Crandall was seated on an old sofa, still bound and gagged, and in charge of Blink Morgan, but, apparently, nerved to meet whatever might follow.
“Sit down, Dolan, till I am ready to talk with you,” Gridley commanded, when all hands had entered the room. “Now, Turk, out with the whole business. Wh
