But the inspector was telephoning for my electric. Then he went into the adjoining room, where he commanded a view of the entrance. Silence between Joe and me until he returned.
“The electric is coming down the street,” said he.
I rose. “Good,” said I. “I'm ready.”
“Wait until the other police get here,” advised Crawford.
“If the mob is in the temper you describe,” said I, “the less that's done to irritate it the better. I must go out as if I hadn't a suspicion of danger.”
The inspector eyed me with an expression that was highly flattering to my vanity.
“I'll go with you,” said Joe, starting up from his stupor.
“No,” I replied. “You and the other fellows can take the underground route, if it's necessary.”
“It won't be necessary,” put in the inspector. “As soon as I'm rid of you and have my additional force, I'll clear the streets.” He went to the door. “Wait, Mr. Blacklock, until I've had time to get out to my men.”
Perhaps ten seconds after he disappeared, I, without further words, put on my hat, lit a cigar, shook Joe's wet, trembling hand, left in it my private keys and the memorandum of the combination of my private vault. Then I sallied forth.