Down the third shaft over, the other cage was dropping like a plummet, a block of golden light walled in by black filigree-work and bisected vertically by the black line of the guide-rail.
"Stop that there car!"
Hickey's stentorian command had no effect; the block of light continued to fall with unabated speed.
The detective wasted no more breath. As the other car swept past, Maitland was shocked by a report and flash beside him. Hickey was using his revolver.
The detonation was answered by a cry, a scream of pain, from the lighted cage. It paused on the instant, like a bird stricken a-wing, some four floors below, but at once resumed its downward swoop.
"Down, down! After 'em!" Hickey bellowed. "I dropped one, by God!
T'other can't—"
"How many in the car?" interrupted Maitland, opening the lever with a firm and careful hand. "Only two, same's us, I hit th' feller what was runnin' it—"
"Steady!" cautioned Maitland, decreasing the speed, as the car approached the lower floor.
The other had beaten them down; but its arrival at the street level was greeted by a short chorus of mad yells, a brief fusillade of shots—perhaps five in all—and the clang of the gate. Then, like a ball rebounding, the cage swung upwards again, hurtling at full speed.
Evidently Anisty had been received in force which he had not bargained for.