“Good!” exclaimed Herbert at the conclusion of this narrative, “you have acted very discreetly. Is the fellow still asleep?”
“No,” she replied; “he evidently awakened a few minutes ago, because I hear him in the room. He has discovered the fact that he is a prisoner, and I am sure will either jump through one of the back windows or break open the door.”
Herbert immediately sent the policeman to the rear of the house, with instructions to arrest anybody who might attempt to escape from that part of the property. Another patrolman fortunately passing by at this time, volunteered to guard the front of the house, while Herbert went in to grapple with the intruder.
Mary was quite solicitous for Herbert’s safety, as was only natural.
“Please be careful,” she said; “he may be a dangerous character. Don’t you think you had better send one of the officers up?”
“No,” said Herbert, “I think I’ll tackle this job myself.”
He felt some apprehension, but being a man, did not propose to display it before a girl for whom he had so much regard as Mary Black.
He crept up the stairs silently, armed with a pistol which Tomlin had thoughtfully provided. He heard a great knocking on the doors of the library, and going there immediately, turned the key and threw them open. The man within, surprised at this bold movement, retreated to the rear of the room. There was no light, but Herbert could see his figure dimly moving in the gloom.
“Surrender or you will be shot!” he shouted sternly.
For answer the burglar drew a pistol from his pocket, and aiming at Herbert, pulled the trigger. There was a flash of light and then all was silence. Herbert felt a tickling sensation like a pin prick on the back of his right hand. He lifted it, and noticed that the bullet had just grazed the top of his hand, which was already bleeding. Smarting with anger, he raised his own pistol and fired. It went far of the mark, but it produced results, for a heavy bass voice coming out of the darkness shouted: