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combination living and dining room of my small apartment. Their leader then,
    be who had ankleted me, opened the side of the stout, metal container. It had a
    heavy door. Inside were various straps, and rings.
    I tried to struggle.
    “Resistance is useless, Miss Collins,” said the man.
    I looked at him pleadingly.
    Then I was thrust, in a sitting position, into the box. The ring at the back of
    the gag, doubtless sewn into the slotted leather pad, was snapped about a ring
    mounted at a matching height in the box. My head was thus held in place. For a
    moment the room seemed to go dark and then I gathered my wits again. My left
    wrist, to my horror, was fastened back, and at my left side, by straps attached
    to a ring. My right wrist was then secured similarly. In moments both of my
    ankles, too, had been fastened in position. I fought to retain consciousness.
    Then I was thrust back further in the box. A broad leather strap was then drawn
    tightly about me. I winced. Then it was buckled shut. I could hardly move. I
    looked at the men, from the box. My eyes pleaded with them.
    “She is secured,” said one of the men.
    The man in charge nodded. “Close the container,” he said.
    I looked at the door. There was no handle or device for opening it on my side,
    and, even had there been, I could not, restrained as I was, have begun to reach
    it.
    I whimpered piteously, as an utterly helpless, restrained woman. I looked at
    them, piteously. They must show me mercy
    Then the door was closed.
    I was plunged into darkness, save for the tiny bits of light coming through the
    two small, round holes on my right, near my face.
    When the door had closed two snap-fastenings had shut, one near the top of the
    door and one near its bottom. I then sat inside, helpless. I heard ten screw
    bolts twisted shut, unhurriedly. Three were along the top of the door and three
    were along the bottom of the door; two each were at the sides of the door, two
    between the hinges and two between the locks.
    Earlier I had asked the man if the box might have been a safe. I had gathered
    from his response that it was not really a safe but that it might, indeed, upon
    occasion, be used in the securing of valuables.
    I struggled in the straps, helpless.
    I wondered if I might take some bitter consolation in his laconic response,
    which now seemed so ironic. Perhaps I, now so well secured within the box,
    might, at least, count as a valuable.
    I pressed my head back against the iron behind me. I heard the movement of the
    two rings.
    But how valuable could I really be, I asked myself. I doubted, frankly, that I
    could be of much value. If I were really of value, of much value, I did not
    think I would be fastened like this, strapped naked in a box.
    I tried to peer out the small holes in the door.
    I could see very little, a part of the upper wall in the apartment, a small
    framed print, of flowers, which had been there when I bad rented the apartment.
    The box was then lifted, apparently by handles.
    I suddenly felt extremely faint. I fought against the loss of consciousness.
    The box was then lowered into the cardboard carton.
    I turned my bead, moaning. I heard the clink of the two rings. I tried to move
    my wrists and ankles. I could hardly move them. The broad leather strap, buckled
    shut, pressed, too, deeply into my belly, holding me in place.
    Outside of the two small holes now tay the’ cardboard. I could see a little
    light from the overhead lamp.
    I turned my head and struck with the side of it against the iron behind me.
    “Do not be stupid, bitch,” said the man outside the box.
    I sobbed.
    I fought more fiercely to retain consciousness.
    Because of the rings and straps, and the closeness with which they held me to
    the wall, I could gain little leverage. I could do little more than tap or rub
    my head against the iron.
    I had indeed been stupid. Even under ideal conditions, fully conscious, and with
    an abundance of possible rescuers in the