"Is Jose below?" whispered Bell. She nodded. "Why did you save that boy,
just now? A new lover?" She directed upon him a level glance of hate.

"I do what pleases me, senor." She raised her arm high, beginning the
first stamping measure of a Spanish dance. Instantly there was a curious
rumbling noise in the stable underneath. Rosa swept over the candelabra.
All the lights in the place were struck out. Phillips and Driscoll
slipped two great bolts, and the entire bar-room floor swung downward on
hinges.

The chute to purgatory was open!

There was bedlam in that dank pass to the region of shades, and no
quarter was shown to any man; only cries of "The String! The String!"
from members of the gang in order to distinguish the robbers from the
robbed, in the darkness. There were curses, the kicking and squealing of
horses in their stalls; a verse from the Talmud recited in Yiddish
(which suddenly stopped), and above it all the high and hysterical laugh
of a woman.

The boy turned from the peddler's pack as Rosa entered the room. "What
is that horrible noise?"

"A fight. Come, you had better go." She led him down a dark stair to
another section of the cellar. "Jose," she called. An evil looking
Mexican pushed open a rough door. "You shall take this man out through
the second tunnel."

"Si, senora."