Chester was jubilant. So great was his eagerness to be at his work that he could hardly wait for his men to be selected. But at last everything was ready and it was time to start.
A short distance from the rendezvous of the conspirators, Chester divided his men into four groups of twenty-five each, so that they could approach from all directions at once.
With his men concealed from view, Chester bethought himself of the best manner to entice the conspirators out into the open. Finally he hit upon a plan. Calling three of his men, he walked with them to a spot directly in front of the conspirators' rendezvous. Here the four started a heated argument.
Suddenly there was the sound of a door opening, and a moment later the well-known voice of the chief of the conspirators exclaimed:
"It is the spy! Come, men, we must capture him. Shoot down the soldiers!"
A moment later and the entire number of masked conspirators were in the street. Then, at a signal from Chester, the Belgian troops sprang upon them.
There was the sound of a pistol shot, followed by many more, and a bullet whistled by Chester's ear. Two of the Belgian troopers fell, and several others groaned. It was plain that the conspirators, trapped as they were, would not give up without a fight.
"Fire!" cried Chester, and a death-dealing volley was poured into the little knot of men huddled together in the street, surrounded by Belgian soldiers.
The fighting became desperate. The conspirators were giving a good account of themselves, and here and there Belgian soldiers were falling.
Now the conspirators turned and made a dash toward their retreat. But five Belgian troopers sprang forward and barred the door, firing as they did so. The ranks of the conspirators were considerably thinner now, and to continue the fight would mean slaughter. This fact the chief recognized.