Part 25 (2/2)

”One move and you're through!” breathed Marsh in his ear. ”Give me that gun!” His right arm came down with the hand closing over the man's automatic. The man started to swear, but stopped suddenly as Marsh warned, ”Shut up. This matter is in my hands now, and I mean business!” Marsh slipped the man's automatic into his own pocket, and then brought out a pair of light, steel handcuffs which he immediately snapped on his prisoner's wrists.

”When I get ready,” Marsh informed him, ”I'm going to step out of this car, and I want you to sit perfectly still until I am gone. If you want to know how good a shot I am, just make a move.” Marsh settled back into his corner and the car rolled on.

At last, just as they made a sharp turn, Marsh caught a different sound from the wheels, and he knew they had pa.s.sed into a driveway.

With a last warning to the man, Marsh quietly opened the door on his side and stepped out of the car. In the distance he could hear his late captor's manacled hands beating on the gla.s.s of the front windows to attract the driver's attention. There was no time to lose, for they would be after him in a minute.

Marsh sped down the driveway, but before he reached the entrance gate he could hear the hum of the pursuing car, and as he sprang through the gate the car was only a few yards away. Then a most surprising thing happened. Weakened by its rotting fibres and the never-ending battle with the winds, the dead pine, which stood beside the gate, swayed and cracked. The next minute it fell cras.h.i.+ng across the driveway in a cloud of dying splinters and dust, effectually blocking pursuit by motor.

Marsh dashed across the roadway and concealed himself in the underbrush. The falling pine had identified the place to Marsh as quickly as if the men had told him its name. He was facing the entrance to the house in Hubbard Woods.

The driver of the pursuing car had switched on the powerful headlights to aid him in locating the fugitive. These lights warned him of the fallen pine blocking the road. Marsh could hear the grinding of the emergency brake; and the hum of the motor died away as the man ”killed” his engine in his effort to make a quick stop.

So swiftly had the car been moving, however, that it struck the log with a tremendous impact which echoed through the still woods. The front wheels scattered far and wide, and the body of the car climbed up and rested on the pine log.

The two men, although probably well shaken up by the accident, jumped hastily from the car and rushed into the roadway. The headlights were s.h.i.+ning directly on Marsh and for a moment he thought the men might discover him among the bushes. Standing in the glare, however, they were partially blinded and the manacled man, realizing this, turned to the other.

”Shut off those d.a.m.n lights. He'll take a pot-shot at us before we can see him.”

The driver leaped back to the car, shut off the lights, and then returned to his companion.

”Not much danger,” he said. ”The guy's probably making a quick getaway.”

”h.e.l.l!” the manacled man exclaimed, ”the boss'll skin us alive.”

”The boss be d.a.m.ned!” exclaimed the other. ”This guy'll have the bulls on us if we don't get him, and the boss won't be ready for the getaway until Thursday.”

”We've got to get him!” declared the manacled man. ”He can't run all the way to Chicago. I figure he made for either the electric line or the railroad station. You beat it up there quick and see if you can get him.”

”All right,” agreed the driver. ”And you run down the road.”

”Where do you get that stuff?” exclaimed the other, holding up his manacled hands. ”I'm no good with these bracelets on. It's all up to you now. You're wasting time. Beat it!”

The driver started up the road at a run and Marsh listened to the rapid beat of his footfalls until they disappeared in the distance.

Then he cautiously crept out of the bushes and approached the other man. It was so dark that Marsh could barely make out the man's form as it was outlined against the gray of one of the gateposts.

Consequently, the man did not discover him until Marsh's hand was on his arm.

”That you, Wagner?” he gasped.

Marsh laughed. ”Don't make me talk,” he said. ”I'm all out of breath making that getaway your friend spoke of.”

”h.e.l.l!” the other man groaned, expressively.

”It sure is--for you,” replied Marsh. ”Now, just lie down in the road while I tie your feet.”

The man turned to run, probably hoping to escape in the darkness.

Marsh's hand still gripped his arm and with a quick movement of his foot, Marsh threw the man down; then unbuckled the belt around the fellow's waist and proceeded to secure his feet with it. As Marsh rose to a standing position a voice close at hand, said, ”That'll be all for you. Throw up your hands!”

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