Chick crept on after him, steadily gaining.
Grady had a constant eye on Chick and cautiously followed him. Presently he picked up another policeman, and a moment later a plain-clothes man from the precinct station.
All followed Chick, hugging the buildings they were passing.
Five minutes later, Chick saw Floyd stop suddenly in front of an old wooden house. It was that in which Hogan dwelt with his wife.
Floyd, when about to enter, heard a terrible crash in the rear yard, and then a window thrown open and a roar from Baldy Gammon.
Instead of entering the house, Floyd rushed through the alley and into the little back yard.
Hogan and Gammon came tearing down a back stairway and joined him.
“What’s wrong? What the devil’s wrong?” Floyd demanded, yanking a search lamp from his pocket.
“A spy! A spy at that window,” cried Hogan, pointing. “He’s fell through this door and gone into the cellar.”
Chick Carter, waving his arm, had to wait only thirty seconds for his three assistants to join him. He knew that he had rounded up his game.