"What's been done before can be done again," said Tim.
"Uh-huh," laughed Foster. "But not punishment. The Law, yer know.
"You see," jeered Foster, "knowing that I am going on and on and on, I merely had Cranshaw make another duplicate of me. Now no one can touch me!"
Jenny turned from the telephone and Tim put an arm about her and led her from the apartment. He left the door open—
"There he is," said Tim, outside. "And you know what he has in mind."
Harry Foster nodded, took out his revolver, and charged in. The quiet apartment was filled with the sudden racket of gunfire, quickly there; quickly stopped.
"Let Miller clean up," said Tim harshly.
"But—?"
"They're equally fast and they're equally forewarned. Tough guy—it took four of him to get rid of him."
THE END