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.
Luther Rockwell fell back into his seat exhausted.
"You've had a trying time, sir!" said one of the policemen respectfully.
"Yes," ejaculated the banker with dry lips. "I wouldn't pass-through it again for fifty thousand dollars. I've been as near a terrible death as any man can be—and live! But for the heroism of that boy—where is he?"
The question was answered by the appearance of Mark Mason himself, just returned from the police station.
"But for you," said the banker gratefully, "we should all be in eternity."