“Now turn your back and walk to the telephone,” Blake went on. “Call the police station and tell the chief that you made a mistake in asking for my arrest.”
“This will get you nowhere, Blake.”
“Do as I say!”
Mr. Parker went to the telephone, stalling for time by pretending that he did not know the police station number.
“Garfield 4508,” Blake supplied. “Say exactly what I tell you or you’ll taste one of my little bullets!”
The real estate man stood with his back to the darkened dining room, in such position that he could cover both Mr. Parker and Penny. As the editor began to dial the phone, he backed a step nearer the archway. Behind him, the dark velvet curtains moved slightly.
Penny noted the movement but gave no indication of it. The next instant a muscular arm reached through the velvet folds, seizing Blake from the rear. The revolver was torn from his hand.
Dropping the telephone, Mr. Parker snatched up the weapon and covered Blake.
“All right, it’s your turn to reach,” he said.
As Blake slowly raised his hands, another man stepped into the circle of light. He wore rough garments and had not shaved in many days.