There were no other persons in the vicinity, Penny thought at first glance. Then her heart leaped as she saw three men entering the Lane at its junction with the main street. They, too, were running.
“They must have heard the bell!” she told herself. “Oh, if only I can make them understand what has happened!”
Her best means of attracting attention was by ringing the bell. She pushed against it and was rewarded by a deafening clang.
The men stopped short, staring toward the belfry. Penny cupped her hands and shouted. Her words did not carry plainly, but the newcomers seemed to gain an inkling of what was amiss, for they wheeled and began to pursue the two who had taken refuge in the cemetery.
From her high perch, Penny saw Al Gepper nearing the end of the Lane, unobserved by all save herself. Tapping the bell again, she called:
“Get him, too! At the end of the street!”
One of the pursuers halted, turning toward the tower. In the moonlight Penny saw his face and recognized Jerry Livingston. He was close enough now to hear her voice.
“It’s Al Gepper!” she shouted. “Don’t let him escape!”
The reporter turned, but as he started off in the new direction, both he and Penny saw the fleeing man climbing into Leaping Lena. With a grinding of gears, he drove away. Jerry stopped, thinking that he never could overtake the car.
“Keep after him, Jerry!” encouraged Penny. “The gas tank is almost empty. He can’t possibly go more than three or four blocks!”