It might be safe, and, again, it might not. But the knocker was on an
outside door. There could be no harm in helping him, as long as it was
outside. The man saw the hesitation in the lad's manner.
"It will not take us long," the stranger said. "I want you to help me
pry off the knocker, as I have no screw-driver to remove it. I will pay
you well."
As he spoke he came nearer to Mark, and the lad noticed that the man's
right hand was held behind his back. This struck Mark as rather
suspicious. Suddenly he became aware of a peculiar odor in the air--a
sweet, sickish odor. He started back in alarm, all his former
suspicions aroused. The man seemed to leap toward him.
"Look out!" suddenly cried the fellow. "Look behind you!"
Involuntarily Mark turned. He saw nothing alarming. The next instant he
felt himself grasped in the strong arms of the man, and a cloth that
smelled strongly of the strange, sweetly sickish odor was pressed over
the lad's face.
"Here! Stop! Let me go! Help! Help!" cried Mark.
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