"They couldn't hear a shot through that wall."
"Why take a chance?" growled Major. "We can wait a few minutes, can't we? Butcher will be here. Then we'll know that everything is clear."
Ferret was forced to yield to the logic of Major; but the stoop-shouldered Chameleon was resentful. He glowered at the prostrate form in black.
He remembered — too vividly — how that man had held him at bay. He wanted revenge — the satisfaction of shooting his enemy, whether alive or dead.
But Major chose to wait. Quietly asserting his authority, he disclosed the whole plan to Ferret, just as Judge had suggested it while Ferret was upstairs prowling through the bank.
"When Butcher gets here," declared Major, "I'll let you shoot a few bullets into this fellow, if he's alive. Then we'll lug the body into the morgue, and put it in one of the caskets. The rest will be up to Deacon."
"All right," returned Ferret, in a disgruntled tone. "I'm going to watch him close. If I see any life in him, I'm going to plug him!"
He was staring shrewdly as he spoke, his eyes gleaming wickedly as he surveyed the helpless enemy. Although he did not care to admit it to Major, Ferret was forced to agree that Judge's bullet had done murderous work. The Shadow had dropped like a winged bird when Judge had fired. Ferret made an impatient gesture with his revolver. His finger was wavering on the trigger as he lifted the gun toward The Shadow's form. Angrily, Major seized his companion's wrist.
"I told you to wait, Ferret," he growled. "Wait. Do you get me?" Ferret leered at his superior.
"Kind of finicky, aren't you, Major?" he snarled, in a nasty, insinuating tone. "Well, you've started me wondering. How did that guy get in?"