Bang!
The shot echoed loudly through the silent street.
Up went Harry's hands, and he fell prostrate, with blood streaming from a wound on the side of his head.
The driver lashed the horse furiously.
With a snort, the galled beast sprang forward and raced madly along the street toward Broadway, from whence a policeman was running.
"Hello!" yelled the patrolman. "Who fired that shot?"
"Man lying wounded up the street!" shouted the undertaker.
Away dashed the policeman to investigate and the wagon kept on to Sixth avenue, swung around the corner and dashed downtown, under the elevated road.
In the meantime, Old King Brady had risen to his feet.
Realizing that he had been victimized by Mr. Gloom, he tried to open the door.