Part 18 (2/2)

”But,” protested Morgan, ”there must have been some connection between Merton and Atwood or else Atwood would not have taken such a dangerous step against him. Even you will admit that Atwood was not an ordinary crook. Doubtless, then, every step he took was the result of a definite plan.”

”Quite true,” agreed Marsh, ”but there was never a plan yet that didn't have possibilities of failure. You remember what I have said before; that I believed that shot to have been a mistake. If the shot was a mistake, could not other mistakes have also crept in? Get Atwood and I believe that many things will be cleared up.”

”Now there is one thing more,” went on Marsh. ”I cannot tell you where I got the tip, and the information is only general. Still it helps. There are at least four men in the gang we seek, and their headquarters is in some suburban house near Chicago. The most important point, however, is this: they know positively that we are after them, and have made arrangements to get out at the first opportunity. That means WE must work fast.”

Morgan was sitting in his favorite chair by the table. Marsh was seated at the front of the room with his back to the window. At this moment the window gla.s.s above his head cracked, a dull thud sounded on the wall across the room, and bits of paper and plaster dropped to the floor.

Instantly Marsh slipped down in his chair, so that his head came below its back, while Morgan's hand shot out and snapped off the electric lamp on the table, throwing the room into darkness. Aside from the slight cracking of the window gla.s.s, and the dull crash as the missile struck the plastered wall, there had been no other sound.

Morgan left his chair and felt his way through the darkened room.

Opening the hall door he cautiously peered out. Tierney, with his hands in his trouser pockets, was leaning with his back against the wall. He glanced up quickly as the door opened.

”Everything all right, Tierney?” inquired Morgan.

”Sure thing.”

”Haven't seen or heard anybody?”

”Nope.”

Morgan closed the door and moved back into the room.

”'Dead men tell no tales',” said Marsh, lightly.

”Was it that, or just a warning?” questioned Morgan.

”People do not go to all that trouble just to deliver a warning, Morgan. They wanted to get me.”

”Why you?” protested Morgan. ”I was here, too.”

”They couldn't possibly have seen you where you sat, Morgan. On the other hand, my head, sticking above the back of this chair, and showing against the lamp-light, made an excellent target.”

Marsh now rose and examined the window. ”A nice, clean hole,” he commented, ”and not more than two inches above my head. A mighty good marksman, with a high-powered rifle, evidently.”

”Rifle!” exclaimed Morgan. ”We didn't hear a sound!”

”Come here,” Marsh called. Morgan joined him at the window. ”From here you can see the grand stand in the ball park. The upper tiers are on a line with this window.”

”But,” objected Morgan, ”that is too far away for any man to get a good sight; and remember, we heard no shot.”

”Don't forget,” Marsh reminded him, ”that we live in scientific times. With a telescopic sight, and a Maxim Silencer on his rifle, a good marksman could steady it on the back of one of those seats and pick us off at twice the distance without a sound.”

”It is very discouraging,” groaned Morgan. ”To think that we may be picked off before we've even began to get near our man.”

”On the contrary,” returned Marsh, ”it is very encouraging. When a criminal gets as desperate as that you are not very far away from him.”

Marsh then pulled down the shades and instructed Morgan to light the lamp once more.

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