He grasped the ragged stone in his hand and braced himself for the explosion that he was sure was at hand.
But fortunately, and most unexpectedly, the crisis passed. The other villain growled in return:
“What do you mean by talking about a bull’s-eye? I doused the glim long ago.”
“The cops are watching us too close. I had hard work to dodge one of ’em to-night. Do you s’pose I meant to have him find any of the tools on me? Not much.”
The other emitted another sulphurous expression, and added the sensible remark:
“Then there’s no use of our hanging around here. He’s smelt a mice and dodged off, and we won’t get another such a chance to neck him.”
These words sounded very strange to Ben Mayberry. Well might he ask himself what earthly purpose these scamps could have in wishing to waylay him in such a dark place, where he was not likely to secure help. The latter part of their conversation proved they contemplated violence.
“There’s one thing certain,” Ben said to himself, “if I manage to get out undiscovered, I will see that I am prepared for such gentlemen hereafter.”
The couple suddenly stopped talking, for the sound of approaching footsteps were heard. The two moved into the alley, and a minute after a heavy man came ponderously along with a rolling tread. He was puffing at a cigar, whose end glowed so brightly that the tip of his nose and his mustache were seen by the three standing so near him. Ben believed the wretches intended to assault and rob the citizen, and doubtless they were none too good to do so. In case the attempt was made, Ben meant to hurl the stone in his hand at the spot where he was sure they were, and then yell for the police.