"Then let us be off. No one will stop us for speeding on a side street."
Fourteen minutes by the clock brought the car to a stand at the curb a few houses below the Hargreave home. The men got out. The watcher ran up.
"He is still inside," he whispered.
"Good! Spread out. If any one leaves that house, catch him. If he runs too fast, shoot. We can beat the police."
The man obeyed, and the watcher ran back to his post. He was desperately hoping the affair would terminate to-night. He was growing weary of this eternal vigilance; and it was only his fear of the man known as the boss that kept him at his post. He wanted a night to carouse in, to be with the boys.
The man for whom they were lying in wait was seen presently to creep cautiously round the side of the house. He hugged a corner and paused. They could see the dim outline of his body. The light in the street back of the grounds almost made a silhouette of him. By and by, as if assured that the coast was clear, he stole down to the street.
"Halt!"
Instantly the prowler took to his heels. Two shots rang out. The man was seen to stop, stagger, and then go on desperately.
"He's hit!"
By the time the men reached the corner they heard the rumble of a motor. One dashed back to the car they had left standing at the curb. He made quick work of the job, but he was not quick enough. Still, they gave chase. They saw the car turn toward the city. But, unfortunately for the success of the chase, several automobiles passed, going into town and leaving it. Checkmate.