“I’m wise,” said Patsy, vainly searching for the electric switch key.
“Be quick,” whispered Chick, crouching at the foot of the steps. “If—ah, there’s something doing. Something is wrong.”
A roar from Gaston Goulard had reached his ears, a fierce oath, followed by:
“There’s the deuce to pay! I can’t get Lombard on the phone. He has been arrested. There’s a chance, by thunder, that guns will show up here at any moment. Gag that infernal dick in the engine room, then put out the light. Fix——”
“Perdition! We’re already fixed!”
Bart Bailey had thrown open the panel door and suddenly discovered the two detectives.
“Hands up!” Chick shouted, starting up the steps. “Up with them, or[{37}]——”
“Hands up be hanged!”
Bart Bailey leaped aside, seeking the shelter of the wall, then whipped out a revolver and fired through the doorway.
The bullet whizzed a foot over Chick’s head.