There was a heavy knock on the door, but nobody moved. Goyle’s face had gone livid. He knew better than any man there how impossible escape was. That had been one of the drawbacks to the house—the ease with which it could be surrounded. He had pointed out the fact to Connor before.
Again the knock.
“Let ’em open it,” said Bat grimly, and as though the people outside had heard the invitation, the door crashed in, and there came a patter as of men running on the stairs.
First to enter the room was Angel. He nodded to Bat coolly, then stepped aside to allow the policemen to follow.
“I want you,” he said briefly.
“What for?” asked Sands.
“Breaking and entering,” said the detective. “Put out your hands!”
Bat obeyed. As the steel stirrup-shaped irons snapped on his wrists he asked—
“Have you got Connor?”
Angel smiled.