“That will get them,” Jimmie whispered eagerly. “I’ll spring the trap, you and Mary start for the hideout. We—we wouldn’t like to have them catch up with us, not with those diamonds in our hands.”
“Mary will start for the hideout.” There was a note of authority in John’s voice. “I’ll go with you. When you throw the switch for the flash-picture I’ll fire off this old cannon. I’ve got a gun, you know. Or, perhaps you didn’t. Anyway, I have. Regular cannon! My uncle used it out west. They may think it’s a police trap and beat it.”
“Fine!” Jimmie exclaimed. “But come on. There’s not a second to lose.”
Mary faded into the night. Slipping and sliding over the drenched grass the two boys moved around the house to the spot where the switch was hidden.
“Good!” Jimmie whispered hoarsely. “Switch isn’t wet at all. Should work fine.”
“Listen! They’re here.” Jimmie felt John’s hand tremble on his shoulder. “Wait until you’re sure they’re inside and then——”
“The flash,” Jimmie was thrilled to the very roots of his hair.
They heard the rattle of a key, then the creak of a rusty hinge.
“Now,” John’s whisper could scarcely be heard.
At that instant the moon, coming out from behind a cloud, shone through a window bringing out three figures. They were standing in the doorway.