"You fellows clear out," he growled. "I want to be alone."
"The old man is peeved," muttered one, outside, as they left.
The weird figure gazed about the room to be sure that he was alone.
When Craig and I left the police he had given me most minute instructions which I was now following out to the letter.
"I want you to hide there," he said, indicating a barrel back of the house next to the hang-out. "When you see a wire come down from the headquarters, take it and carry it across the lot to the old house. Attach it to the bell; then wait. When it rings, raid the Clutching Hand joint."
I waited what seemed to be an interminable time back of the barrel and it is no joke hiding back of a barrel.
Finally, however, I saw a coil of fine wire drop rapidly to the ground from a window somewhere above. I made a dash for it, as though I were trying to rush the trenches, seized my prize and without looking back to see where it came from, beat a hasty retreat.
Around the lot I skirted, until at last I reached the place where the police were waiting. Quickly we fastened the wire to the bell.
We waited.
Not a sound from the bell.