He landed upon a pile of rags and newspapers. His upturned eyes caught a dim outline of the trap as its two portions closed above him. He heard the click of an automatic lock as he tried to scramble to his feet.
Some one gripped him in the darkness. He went down beneath the onslaught. Strong, active hands bound him firmly, and a gag between his teeth prevented an outcry.
Then he was carried along a dark, smelly passageway, up steps and around corners, until he lost all sense of direction. Once the scent of fresh air reached his nostrils; then he felt himself rising in an automatic elevator.
One of his hands was gradually loosening. As his captors stopped and were about to set him in what seemed to be a pitch-black room, Harry pulled the hand free and swung his fist through the air. A grunt followed as the blow struck one of the captors in the chest. The men fell upon their victim.
In the darkness, they did not know that he was only partially free. They were quick with their attack and a powerful swing threw Harry backward. His head struck a wall and consciousness left him.
BACK in the street, another man was passing the entrance to the warehouse passage. It was the third time that he had passed it, but always on the far side of the street.
Clyde Burke had seen Harry Vincent enter the open door, and had correctly presumed that he had gone after Rodney Paget. Something had prompted Burke not to follow.
He had been instructed to act as Vincent’s auxiliary; to take up the pursuit should Harry be suspected.
Hence Burke had discreetly kept from view. He had walked by in an indifferent manner, keeping himself inconspicuous.
When three men had appeared at Tenth Avenue, Burke had followed them to Ninth, appearing as a lagging member of their group. This, his third trip, was a brisk one.