He ran to one of the windows and glanced out at the street. The crowd was growing larger. The police had ascertained that the man who had fallen was not shot, but had stumbled in his mad haste to get away. The two men had been arrested, and the patrol auto called. None of the police had started back toward the museum, though some of them glanced in that direction now and then.
Inside, the paintings had been cut from their frames and made into rolls. The rolls were tied up with rope and then lashed together.
"Out you go!" said the man who had hidden inside.
They hurried down the stairs and to the little side door. The one ahead opened it and glanced out.
"Coast all clear!" he announced.
Two went first, carrying the roll of paintings with them. The others left one by one, darted across the street, and each went in a different direction. Those with the paintings had an automobile waiting; they jumped in and were driven rapidly away.
The men who had fought were carried away to jail; their part had been done well. The policemen went back to the museum, joking about the fight they had witnessed.
"They'll make it up in the morning and get fined for fighting and discharging firearms," one of them declared. "Business quarrel, eh? Pretty vigorous business men, I think!"
"Suppose everything's all right inside?" another asked.
"That gang inside is so busy playing cards that they wouldn't know it if a battle was staged in the street."