He walked among the helpless men, and reached in their pockets. He found revolvers on Crull and Coffran. He threw the automatics in a corner. Then he went over to the tunnel through which he had come, and stood facing the group.
“Line up,” he said.
The men formed as commanded.
“Look out!” cried Harry Vincent.
Before Marquette could heed the warning, a man fell on him from the tunnel. The new arrival had come out of the blackness; the noise of his approach had been drowned by the Federal agent’s command.
* * *
The attacker had skillfully seized Marquette’s automatic with one hand, and as the two men rolled on the dirt floor, the gun fell to the ground. That was the signal for a mass attack.
Crull and Windsor sprang forward, followed by Vernon and Isaac Coffran. The struggle was fierce, but brief. Vic Marquette lay helpless. Vernon brought ropes, and the secret-service man was bound.
The man who had come to the rescue walked to the center of the room. He was stocky, and clad in old clothes. He looked like a native of the district; but his face showed a cunning expression.
“Good work, Jerry,” congratulated Isaac Coffran. “You came at the right time.”