The big clock on the Fisher building chimed eleven as the two friends left the hamburger diner. The evening was warm, and they sauntered slowly down the street, rather reluctant to return home. But at length Flash said:
“Guess I ought to hit the hay. The old alarm goes off regularly at six-thirty these days.”
“It is getting late,” Jerry agreed.
They cut through an alley to a deserted street on the bus route. As they stood waiting, a muffled cry reached their startled ears.
“What was that?” Flash demanded, whirling around. “Sounded like someone yelling for help.”
The street was empty of pedestrians. For a moment they were unable to localize the strange cry. Actually it had seemed to come almost from beneath their feet.
“Must have been in one of the buildings!” exclaimed Jerry. “Maybe this furniture store!”
He and Flash stood directly in front of the Sam Davis Home Supply Company. Only a few steps away was an iron ventilating grating anchored in the sidewalk. They both thought that the cry might have carried to them from the basement of the building.
Flash and Jerry waited for the call to be repeated. There was no further sound to disturb the tranquillity of the street. But suddenly, a door opening into the alley was flung wide. From the furniture store bolted a man in a dark suit, hugging something close beneath his coat.
He started toward Flash and Jerry. Then, observing them, he wheeled and ran in the opposite direction.