As the chauffeur acted, Michaels hunched his body to the side. The muzzle of the automatic slipped so that the side of the barrel lay against his body. The bullets ripped his coat as they emerged.
Continuing his swing, Michaels revolved Otto in a semicircle. The muzzle of the bullet-spitting automatic swung across the room. Blake was covered by its turning path.
The millionaire’s triumphant cry became a horrible gasp. He fell to the floor.
Otto’s eyes, staring over Michaels’ shoulder, saw what had happened. A look of horror appeared upon the chauffeur’s face. His strength gave out. Michaels flung him away and made a dash for the door.
Only Herbert blocked his path. The butler had picked up a heavy cane belonging to his master. He had no chance to use it. Michaels landed a punch upon Herbert’s jaw and the butler collapsed.
The departing man crossed the living room and reached the door. Blake’s speedster was standing in the driveway.
With a mocking laugh, Michaels leaped into the waiting car. He sped down the driveway and turned into the street. He went by two cars that had pulled up beside the curb.
“Stop him!” came cries. The shots had been heard. The witnesses knew that the man in the speedster was escaping.
A sedan shot from a side street and took up the chase. The man at the wheel of the speedster saw it in the mirror. He increased the speed of his car and whirled toward the highway that led to New York.
He had gained on his pursuers before he reached the open road. A clear path lay ahead of him. His escape seemed certain.