“Hands up!” snapped the newcomer, in a low, commanding voice. The automatic which he carried gave emphasis to the order.
The hands of the pretended hoodlum were buried in the fold at the bottom of his sweater. For an instant his fingers hesitated; then he raised his hands with feigned sullenness.
“Guess you got me, all right,” he said, in a gruff, sulky voice. “But I ain’t doin’ nothin’ here.”
The new arrival sauntered into the light. He was a square-jawed individual, clad in dark blue, with a black hat. He pulled back his coat with his left hand, revealing a badge.
“Not doing anything, eh?” he commented. “We’ll find out about that, later on. In the meantime, just keep your hands up.
“I’m a Federal agent, in case you don’t know it. That coal pile is just as interesting to me as it was to you.”
* * *
The Shadow did not reply. Still playing a part, he glowered wickedly at the man who had captured him. He stood there, with puffed lips and twisted nose, his shadow forming a huge blot on the floor before him.
“What are you doing here?” demanded the Federal agent. “You aren’t in on the game. I know that. Trying to steal something?”
“Why should I tell you?” came the sullen reply.