"Shoot if you like," he sneered, and backed rapidly toward the door. Hen followed, the useless pistol still pointed, but Beany's body covered the Wolf who, with the strength of ten, held Beany before him as he neared the door that would mean escape, and safety. He had almost reached it when a deafening noise sounded from below. There was the sound of a door being battered in, shots were fired, and shouts heard. For a second the Wolf faltered. For a second he was off his guard. In that second, Beany made a light, steel-muscled bound, swung his legs up and out, using the spy's breast as a brace, turned a somersault over his head, dropping to the floor behind him. It was so quick, so unexpected, that the Wolf could not keep his hold, and Beany dropped to the floor, crying, "Shoot!"
A revolver cracked, but it was in the Wolf's hand. Porky felt a sting as the bullet grazed his shoulder. Then Hen's weapon barked just once!
The revolver dropped from the Wolf's hand, a strange, blank look spread over his face, and he sank to his knees. Beany, flat on the floor behind him, jumped to his feet.
The door, which had been unlatched, swung violently open and for a second the face of Ledermann appeared, then flashed by as he saw the tableau, and dashed for the stairway to the attic and the roof. A dozen policemen ran in, three of them following Ledermann, at Porky's direction, while the others snapped the cuffs on the two men at the table, and tenderly took the cruel gag from Asa's parched and bleeding mouth, and untied him. Beany rushed up into the attic after the men who were pursuing Ledermann and as he reached the place, the call of the wireless caught his attention. He answered the call, and commenced to take down a long message.
Below, Porky and Hen knelt by the Wolf and turned him over. He still breathed, and Hen fumbled through his pockets for another revolver. He found instead a long, keen knife which he threw aside. Then, with Porky, he fell to watching the closed eyes of the spy. They opened, and the Wolf looked from one to the other with cold, unrelenting hatred. He did not speak.
"Buck up!" said Hen suddenly. His voice shook with excitement.
"Say, you don't want to croak yet. I got to tell you: the Weasel
said to tell you that he had bit. Understand? He has bit.
See?" Hen paused with a look of satisfaction.
The Wolf, who was bleeding fearfully, slowly closed his eyes.
"That ends him," said Hen solemnly. "Gosh!"
A detective felt the heart of the wounded man.
"He's alive," he said. "Send an ambulance call, somebody."