But up the streets at last came the two officers and went up the steps of the De Lorme house, and rang the bell. Bill stopped trying to talk.
It seemed a year before the door opened, and then Bill could not see who was standing within, but he saw the heavy portal suddenly swing shut, and at that moment both men sprang forward and pressed it open. With a scuffle they both plunged into the hall, and Bill could stand no more. Again Elizabeth found herself alone.
Bill leaped across the lawn and was close on the detectives’ heels when they closed on Mr. De Lorme. But that gentleman was not yet in their grasp. With the quickness of a trained athlete, he sprang into the parlor and stood with a table between them.
“What does this intrusion mean?” he asked harshly. “Are you drunk? Have you mistaken the house?”
“Neither!” said the Major. “We are here to arrest you. Better come quietly. It will be better for you in the end.”
“Arrest me?” said Mr. De Lorme, smiling. “Arrest me for what? Why should you arrest an old and harmless student like myself?”
“You know why,” said the Captain bitterly. “Don’t try to escape! If you are curious, we can tell you where your dynamite is hidden, and where your accomplices in this city are located. Come, step up here, and get these bracelets on. Why, we know you! It is nearly the thirteenth, and you are known as 'The Avenger.’ Does that convince you?”
He took a step forward, and De Lorme found himself looking into the muzzle of a revolver.
With a queer, nervous motion, he fussed with his watch chain for a moment, then clapping his hand over his mouth, dropped into a chair. He looked at the men strangely, his face twitched, and his outstretched legs jerked for a moment. Then he straightened up and laughed aloud, a jeering, sneering laugh, looking from one to the other, and past the men at Bill, whose flesh crept at that sardonic sound. Then his head dropped, bobbed queerly, and both men sprang to his side, crying “Poison!”
De Lorme was dead.