OUTSIDE, Harry Vincent was groping his way between the two warehouses. A small flashlight came from his pocket. He went through to the next street; then retraced his course.
Here was a mystery. Somewhere in that narrow crevice between the buildings, he had lost track of those ahead.
Harry uttered a quick exclamation as his light revealed a crack in the side of the wall. It looked like a door. He would try it. He pressed. It did not yield.
He pressed again. He was sure that the others had entered at this spot — but now the barrier was tight against him.
Harry’s light was turned full on the wall. He did not see what was happening beside him. Two men were creeping up — one on each side.
In another instant, powerful fingers had gripped Harry’s arms. He was drawn back, pinioned. Something hard cracked against his ribs — he knew it for the muzzle of an automatic.
“One grunt out o’ you, an’ you’re through!” came a voice. “Just one grunt. Savvy?”
Harry did not move.
“Hold him, Lance. I’ll gag him,” came the same voice.
A grimy rag was forced between Harry’s jaws. Prodded by the automatic, he was forced down the narrow way. The trip ended before they reached the street. The man with the revolver opened a door in the side of the other warehouse. In another minute, Harry was bound upon the floor.