Chief Yates was directly in its path! He and a dozen of his men. They saw the menace too late to escape it!
Then came salvation. Sharp cracks sounded, but they were not the shots of the machine gun. That sharpshooter, stationed high above was perfect in his aim. His targets were the desperate, hurrying gangsters.
One man was at the machine gun. He fell, helpless.
Two others rushed to take his place. One sprawled at the sound of a rifle shot. The other gained the objective, but never started the roaring weapon. He, too, collapsed beside the machine gun.
Only two gangsters remained. One of them leaped to the gun in a frenzy. His hands clutched the air as he staggered backward. The other, forgetful of all but that menace high above, turned to point his revolver toward the top of the tower.
Before he could discharge a shot, his gesture was answered by another sharp report. The last of the gunmen fell beside his companions.
“The tower! The tower! The gun in the tower!”
The cry was passing back along the pier. It met with a response. Some one, under sudden inspiration, turned on the studded lights. A brilliant, vari-colored glow filled the night. All eyes turned toward the top.
There, beneath a glittering ball of bejeweled light, stood a silent, unmoving form. Chief Yates saw it — he also saw the rifle that the figure held.
Men were wondering as they gazed in amazement. But to Chief Yates came understanding.