Standing just behind the crank, so that he did not attract his attention, he swiftly signaled to the clerks, who saw the signal but did not know what it meant. Mark had observed that the dangerous satchel was held loosely in the hands of the visitor whose blazing eyes were fixed upon the banker. The telegraph boy had made up his mind to take a desperate step, which depended for its success on rapid execution and unfaltering nerves.
Luther Rockwell was hesitating what reply to make to his visitor's demand when Mark, with one step forward, snatched the valise from the unsuspecting visitor and rapidly retreated in the direction of the two clerks.
"Now do your part!" he exclaimed in keen excitement.
The crank uttered a howl of rage, and turning his fierce, bloodshot eyes upon Mark dashed towards him.
The two clerks were now nerved up to action. They were not cowards, but the nature of the peril had dazed them. One was a member of an athletic club, and unusually strong.
They dashed forward and together seized the madman. Mr. Rockwell, too, sprang from his seat, and, though an old man, joined the attacking party.
"Quick!" he shouted to Mark. "Take that valise out of the office, and carry it where it will do no harm. Then come back!"
Mark needed no second bidding. He ran out of the office and down-stairs, never stopping till he reached the nearest police station. Quickly he told his story, and two policemen were despatched on a run to Mr. Rockwell's office.
They arrived none too soon. The crank appeared to have the strength of three men, and it seemed doubtful how the contest between him and the three who assailed him would terminate.
The two policemen turned the scale. They dexterously slipped handcuffs over his wrists, and at last he sank to the floor conquered. He was panting and frothing at the mouth.