It was not long before we were suddenly aware that there was another person in the room.  We could hear whispers.  The faithful little vocaphone even picked them up and shot them down to us.

“Is everything all right?” whispered one, a new voice which was somewhat familiar I thought, but disguised beyond recognition.

“Yes.  She’ll be out in a minute.”

“Now, remember what I told you.  If this thing works you get fifty dollars more.  I’d better put this mask on—­damn it!—­the slit’s torn.  It’ll do.  I’ll hide here as soon as we hear her.  That’s a pretty nice private ambulance you have down there.  Did you tell the elevator boy that she had suddenly been taken ill?  That’s all fixed, then.  I’ve got the stuff—­amyl nitrite—­she’ll go off like a shot.  But we’ll have to work quick.  It only keeps her under a few minutes.  I can’t wear this mask down and I’m afraid some one will recognize me.  Oh, you brought a beard.  Good.  I’ll give you the signal.  There must be no noise.  Yes, I saw the stretcher where you left it in the hall.”

“All right, Doc,” returned the first and unfamiliar voice.

It all happened so quickly that we were completely bowled over for the moment.  Who was the man addressed as “Doc”?  There was no time to find out, no time to do anything, apparently, so quickly had the plot been sprung.

I looked at Kennedy, aghast, not knowing what to do in this unexpected crisis.

A moment later we heard a voice, “I’m sorry to have had to keep you waiting, but what is it that I can do for you?”

“Good God!” exclaimed Kennedy.  “It is Inez herself!”

It was altogether too late to get over there to warn her, perhaps even to rescue her.  What could we do?  If we could only shout for help.  But what good would that do, around a corner and so far away?

The vocaphone itself!

Quickly Kennedy turned another switch, of a rheostat, which accentuated a whisper to almost a shout.

“Don’t be alarmed, Senorita,” he cried.  “This is Kennedy talking.  Look under the bookcase by the window.  You will find a cedar box.  It is a detective vocaphone through which I can hear you and which is talking out to you.  I have heard something just there just now--”

“Yes, yes.  Go on!”

“You are threatened.  Shout!  Shout!”

Just then there came a sound of a scuffle and a muffled cry which was not much above a whisper, as though a strong hand was clapped over her mouth.

What could we do?

“Juanita—­Juanita—­help!—­police!” shouted Craig himself through the vocaphone.

An instant later we could hear other screams as Juanita heard and spread the alarm, not a second too soon.

“Come on, Walter,” shouted Kennedy dashing out of the room, now that he was assured the alarm had been given.

We hurried around the corner, and into the apartment.  One of the elevators was up, and no one was running the other, but we opened the gates and Kennedy ran it up by himself.