He wasn’t overanxious to follow Rollo. He knew if Rollo took it into his head to become violent, he wouldn’t stand much chance against his brute strength. Still, there was no time to telephone for assistance. He would have to see it through on his own. He wished he was armed. If he had even a truncheon he would have felt easier, but he had nothing.

Against Rollo, his fists did not give him much confidence.

As he stepped to the foot of the stairs, he heard a sound that brought him up short. A woman had coughed. He listened. The cough came again and he judged it came from down the passage, away from the stairs.

It must be the Hedder girl, he thought. She couldn’t have gone upstairs after all. As she interested him more than Rollo, he turned away from the stairs and crept along the passage until he came to the door leading to the cellar.

As he was standing there, listening, he heard movements down the stairs and, at the same time, he heard Rollo’s heavy step overhead.

Cautiously he began to walk down the stairs. He could see that there was a light burning in the room below. He crept down, step by step, until he was able to peer into the cellar.

For several seconds, Adams stared round the sinister, rather terrifying room, too startled to move. At first glance it seemed to him that the room was full of strange, frightening people, but as he looked closer he realized that they were wax dummies.

Even at that, Adams felt spooked as he looked at the grim collection, their weird faces glistening in the shaded light.

Standing in the middle of the room was Susan Hedder. She was motionless, but Adams could see she was breathing rapidly and her eyes, although blank, moved uneasily.

A heavy, creaking step warned him that Rollo, not finding anything to interest him upstairs, was now coming down to the cellar.

Adams glanced round the room and then moved silently to one of the darkest comers where he joined three wax figures, taking his place just behind them. He pulled his hat low over his eyes, thrust his hands in his coat pockets and waited.

He was quite sure that unless Rollo turned his torch on him, which was unlikely, he would not know that he wasn’t just another effigy.

Susan began to move again. Very slowly, she crossed the room and approached a group of wax figures in the opposite corner away from where Adams was standing.

As she did so, Rollo came down the stairs and stood watching her. The room came as a shock to Rollo. Like Adams, he took some moments to realize that the figures that appeared to be staring at him were only dummies. He jerked his attention back to Susan.

She was standing before a figure of a little man who sat propped up in a chair. His wax face glistened pinkly in the shaded light and Rollo thought he looked more horrible than any of the other figures.

Susan lifted her hand and touched the little man’s arm. Then she suddenly started back and gave a wild scream. Both Adams and Rollo nearly jumped out of their skins. She turned, her eyes now alive, and saw Rollo.

“Oh no!” she screamed and backed away.” Go away! Let me out of here!”

Rollo moved swiftly towards her.

“Don’t be frightened,” he said, his great, moon-like face shining with sweat.

“It’s all right—”

She put her hands to her mouth, then her eyes rolled back and she slipped to the floor.

It was only with difficulty that Adams restrained himself from starting forward. But he knew it was too soon to show his hand. He had to see what Rollo was after.

Rollo, breathing heavily, knelt beside Susan and turned her over. A quick glance assured him that she had only fainted and with an impatient grant he rose to his feet. He looked at the little man in the chair with interested eyes.

Susan had definitely pointed him out. Could this be Cornelius? The wax on his face looked new. It was brighter in colour than those of the other wax effigies. Rollo moved forward and flashed his torch on the face. He was certain now.

He could tell by the eyes. There was something gruesome about this little figure and in spite of his iron nerves, Rollo felt a shiver run down his spine.

He looked round the room, He had a feeling that he was being watched. His eyes examined the still figures surrounding him. They were menacing and looked uncannily human. It was no good losing his nerve when he had got so far, he told himself angrily.

Pulling himself together he turned back to Cornelius and with a grimace of disgust, he hastily opened the little man’s coat.

Quite close to Rollo, hidden behind a group of effigies, stood Butch. He watched Rollo and from time to time, he glanced across the room to where Adams was standing. He had seen Adams come in and he knew where he was hiding.

He was sure that Adams hadn’t spotted him. It wasn’t going to be easy First, he would have to knock Rollo off and then rash across the room and close with Adams. It was his bad luck that Adams was close to the stairs. Butch would have to cross the room to escape; by that time Adams would be on him. The thing to do, he decided, was to shoot Rollo and then shoot out the light. It was unlikely that Adams was armed. These British coppers never carried arms, but he couldn’t afford to take chances. In the darkness and confusion he could slip across the room and if Adams tried to stop him he’d give it to him.

He looked again at Rollo.

Rollo was sweating. He hated handling Cornelius, only the thought of the money urged him on. He undid Cornelius’ waistcoat. There was the belt! It was a broad affair with two leather pockets and the pockets bulged.

With fingers that trembled, Rollo undid the buckle and tried to pull the belt clear. But it would not slide off Cornelius’ body. Cursing softly, Rollo gave it a savage jerk and brought Cornelius tumbling to the floor.

Rollo stepped back with a quick intake of breath. He looked round the room uneasily and then bent hurriedly over the fallen body and dragged the belt clear.

Butch, crushing down a tremor of superstitious fear, groped for his gun. He carefully eased it from his pocket and held it down by his side.

Rollo was holding the belt, his fat face alight with triumph. He feverishly opened one of the pockets. Weidmann hadn’t lied. The belt was stuffed with tightly-folded bonds. It was the greatest moment of Rollo’s life. Butch raised his gun.

Adams saw the movement. He was so startled that he could not even cry out.

It seemed to him that one of the wax figures had come to life and the shock was so great that he could only stare, feeling his heart skip a couple of beats.

Rollo also saw the movement and he dropped the belt and swung round, his breath rushing into his throat in his terror.

For one split second, Rollo and Butch looked at each other and Butch grinned. Then he squeezed the trigger and the crash of gunfire rolled round the still cellar. The slug hit Rollo in the middle of his great forehead— thwack.

Rollo closed his eyes, took one hesitating step towards Butch, and then folded up on the floor like a stricken elephant.

Butch did two things almost simultaneously. He snatched up the belt and fired at the electric light bulb. The cellar plunged into darkness. Adams was on the move. Although he was unarmed and his nerves seemed to poke out of his skin, he did not hesitate. He knew that Butch could only leave by the stairs and without counting the cost, he darted across the room to head Butch off. As he did so, he cannoned into a figure and for a second he thought it was Butch, then he realized it was only one of the wax effigies and he drew a sharp breath in relief.

Butch heard him cross the room and he snarled to himself.

“You’d better get out of the way, copper,” he called, crouching, his ears pricked. “You can’t stop me!”