In the meanwhile, the gangsters, realizing that their escape was cut off at both ends, set up sub-machine guns at both ends of the house and began to rake every inch of ground within sight. The detectives got busy. Several of them used their own sub-machine guns. Others, picking up stones wherever they found them, managed to break every window in the house.
The detectives ripped open the square boxes and began to throw tear gas into the house through the open windows. Several of the bombs fell short of the house, and pretty soon the whole house was enveloped in thick clouds of smoke. There was no wind and the smoke hung in the air in and around the house. Within five minutes, both gangsters stumbled out of the doorway, coughing hard and trying hard to keep their hands above their heads.
Several of the detectives immediately ran forward and grabbed them, at the same time dragging them away from the clouds of tear gas. They were immediately surrounded and handcuffed. Just then a siren screamed and everyone turned to see what was happening.
Jack was sitting in the car and watched the battle. He was glad now that he was at a safe distance. It was too bloody an affair for him. After a while, he leaned back in the seat and paid no attention to what was going on. He waited for the finish and for the detectives to return. He heard the crackling of rifle fire and the explosion of bombs.
Resting in the back seat of the automobile he only hoped that no one would be hit and that all would turn out well. Why couldn’t the gangsters give up, he thought to himself. Couldn’t they see that the odds were against them? And even if they should escape this time, which was impossible, they would still be hunted and caught by the police of some other town or city.
Jack leaned forward and peeked out of the window. He caught his breath and became tense. There was a man across the street who looked very familiar and appeared to be exceedingly interested in the battle that was going on between the criminals and the police. The man, tall, fat, husky, stood in front of a roadster that evidently belonged to him. “Moonshine Charlie,” Jack thought to himself.
Yet he had not heard the man drive up. It was because he was absorbed in his own thoughts. Now what am I to do? What can I do? These questions came to Jack’s mind, yet he found no answer. It was no use to call one of the detectives; the gangster might disappear in the meanwhile. What could he do?
Jack became conscious of the fact that the firing had ceased. He saw the fat man get into his car and drive off, turning into the next corner. Jack jumped to the wheel, set off the siren screaming and was immediately chasing the gangster.