I knew what Wright never dreamed of, and that was that Sampson had a gun somewhere within reach and meant to use it.
Then heavy footsteps sounded outside, tramping upon the porch.

I might have been mistaken, but I believed those footsteps saved Wright's life.
"There they are," said Wright, and he opened the door.

Five masked men entered.

About two of them I could not recognize anything familiar.

I thought one had old Snecker's burly shoulders and another Bo Snecker's stripling shape.