Flash went into the adjoining room and detached the electric irons. He then started away, being anxious to learn if the two escaping men had gained possession of his camera and exposed film.
“Where are you going, son?” the officer demanded.
Flash explained briefly about the picture he had taken.
“All right,” nodded the policeman. “We can use that picture. Go ahead and get it.”
Flash had reached the door when the officer called after him:
“Say, can you call up headquarters for me while I watch this fellow? My wounded arm is quite stiff.”
“What shall I say?”
“Tell them to send the wagon. Give them a description of those two men who got away if you can. And move fast!”
Hurrying to the street, Flash cast a quick glance about the alley. No one was in sight. He groped for a minute beneath the shattered window. Failing to find the camera, he was fearful that the two men had taken it.
Wasting no more time, he ran across the street to a cigar store and there telephoned the nearest police station. Tersely he made his report. The desk sergeant assured him the wagon would reach the warehouse within five minutes, while the district would be bottles up in an attempt to capture the wounded man and his companion.