Finding that it resisted all his efforts, he lit a match, and going hastily into the house, he was astonished to find it empty and untenanted.
In the middle of the parlor floor lay a curious-looking dagger, which looked as if it had been buried in a human body, and the bare boards were stained with the same life fluid.
"There's been a murder committed here," flashed through the detective's mind, as he picked up the knife and put it in his pocket, "and those men have carried away their victim's body in that box!"
He rushed to one of the parlor windows and flung it open, just in time to see Harry get shot. The sight made Old King Brady frantic with fury.
"They've killed the boy and escaped!" he roared.
Then he sprang out the window and landed on his feet in the yard.
It only took him a moment to reach his pupil's side, and lifting the limp form in his arms, carried him to the sidewalk, under the lamp-post.
Here he examined Harry's wound very carefully.
It was only scalp deep, and the rain beating down on his face revived him.
Before the policeman reached the boy, he had regained his senses, and found Old King Brady wiping his face and sticking court-plaster over the cut.