Twice he threw his whole weight against it, but
it did not budge. He looked at the windows. For some reason, they were
heavily barred.
Chester put the muzzle of his automatic to the keyhole of the door and
fired. The lock was blown entirely away, and the door flew open beneath
the lad's weight.
Not hesitating, the lad leaped through the next room and sped into the
hall beyond. He could clearly see that his way now led to the front door,
and he made for it at a run. He grasped the knob and gave a quick wrench,
but the door would not open.
He sought for the key to turn it, but there was no key. Evidently the
family, upon going away, had barred it from the outside. From behind, the
boy could hear the sound of rapidly approaching footsteps, and he knew
that every moment's delay spelled disaster and almost certain death.
He picked up a chair, and with a single blow shattered the glass front of
the door. He drew the leg of the chair across the ragged pieces of glass
left at the bottom, and then, dropping the chair, drew himself up.
Just as he was about to tumble out on the far side, four men dashed up
the steps with drawn revolvers. Chester took in the situation at a
glance. He was between two fires, and escape was impossible.
"Well," he told himself quietly, "I guess it's all up with me this time."
He dropped back inside and faced his pursuers. Throwing his now useless
revolver to the floor, he raised both hands.
"I surrender," he said quietly.
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