'It's as clear as daylight,' thought David. 'They'll run below right away. Perhaps they'll shoot as they go. In any case, they'll be out and away before the police can guess what they're doing. I've got to put a stop to that.'
He stole forward again in the direction of the door, wondering what course he ought to pursue; then, as if doubtful, he turned towards the entry to the stairway leading to the basement.
'Why not?' he asked himself. 'I'll go down there and—'
His hair almost stood on end; his heart seemed to stop abruptly and his muscles felt paralysed all in one brief second; for a figure was coming towards him, a dusky figure, sidling silently across the floor; and in a flash he recognised the man. It was Spolikoff, the Russian, sent by Henricksen to keep watch and ward.
CHAPTER V
London's Alien Criminals
If ever David Harbor had felt inclined to play the coward it was at the precise moment, on this adventurous night when he came so abruptly, and so unexpectedly, face to face with one of the men who were engaged in robbing his employers' store. Behind him, in the office, he had left Henricksen and the ruffian known as the 'Admiral' busily engaged with their oxy-acetylene flame, eating a hole into the safe which they hoped and imagined was well filled with gold. Upstairs was the man Ovanovitch, clearing the cases of all their portable valuables, while here, on the main floor, was Spolikoff, a Russian—a man given naturally to deeds of violence—placed there to watch for the very police whom it was our hero's object to summon. The very man from whom he wished to keep farthest away was stealing towards him in the semi-darkness.
David drew in a deep breath. His hand clutched the revolver he had managed to secure. With an effort he controlled his muscles.
'Run! Shout for help!' some one seemed to scream in his ear. 'Steady,' he told himself, summoning all his pluck. 'Steady, my boy; play the game. No use bolting; he'll be just as surprised as I am.'