“Beronio, give the doctor your gun,” ordered Inspector Craven. “He may need it. Lead on Tessie, but go softly.”
The evening was coming on, the autumn air was cool and damp in the neglected woods, weedy, with thick undergrowth; it was difficult to think of a house of any sort there. Yet they followed the girl, breathlessly, almost treading on her heels. Five hundred yards they trudged along the winding path when Tessie stopped.
“Look,” she whispered, pointing to the right.
Both men followed her glance, seeing with relief a dilapidated tenant house, to all appearances unoccupied, save for an almost imperceptible thin line of smoke which was just visible above the broken edge of the chimney. The door was closed, but would probably offer no formidable obstacle. Shutters hung crazily over the one window which opened on the front of the house. They were half closed, held by a bit of soiled ribbon.
“Doc,” whispered the inspector, “I am going to slip over to the door. If anyone tries to drop out by that side window, use your gun. If any of Hovey’s gang is about, they won’t mince matters.”
Inspector Craven was himself, now. The house was here, that was certain. Stealthily he moved toward the door. Unperceived, he gained the doorway, where he stood for a moment listening for signs of life. Finally he heard a clinking of glass, a very faint tinkling. He put his big shoulder against the door. It was bolted and resisted his first assault. He thought no longer of who might be inside and with a mighty impact, burst the door open. As he almost fell over the threshold, a shot rang out and a twinge in the left shoulder told him it was a good shot. But he fired at the flash, which was followed by a cry of pain. He had hit his enemy in the gun arm. There was light enough for Craven to see a hunchback, who stood looking wickedly at the gun which covered him. The instant the reports rang out Doctor Jarvis and Tessie had run to the door of the shanty.
“Are you hurt, inspector?” asked Jarvis.
“He winged me in the left shoulder,” said Craven grimly. “If I had not stumbled when the door gave way it would have been worse, for it was well aimed for the heart. Pretty lookin’ bird, ain’t he? Is he the one who filled the prescription, Tessie?”
“Yes,” replied the girl, while the dwarf looked at her malevolently.
A small fire burned in an open stove. As the doctor, seeing the blood on Inspector Craven’s coat, began to examine him to learn the extent of his injury, the hunchback, with a quick movement, grasped a bundle of papers spiked on a file and threw them into the stove.