As rapidly he ran down the street as before, the while the other man, who had come from the parlor floor by the rope, stationed himself across the street and anxiously looked up and down as if standing ready to make a signal.
As the man with the bundles disappeared around the corner, with no interference, the other dashed across the street, and, seizing the last bundle left, hurriedly ran to the east.
He had hardly shouldered this bundle and set out on his run when a man came into view at the corner on the west, quickly catching sight of the fellow running to the east.
He came from the west on a run, and, arriving opposite the house where these strange things had occurred, stopped a brief instant to look. He noted the open window and the dangling rope.
Without hesitation he hastily ran down the street to the east, but reached the corner too late for any purpose except to see a carriage some distance off, going at full speed.
This man was Nick Carter, the famous detective.
Nick immediately realized the folly of attempting to follow the carriage, which had so great a lead, though he was satisfied that there had been a robbery of the house and that the carriage contained the booty as well as the thieves.
He contented himself with sounding an alarm, in the hope that the attention of the policemen on the beats along which the carriage traveled might be directed toward it and their suspicion excited.
But, so far as he was able to judge, the only result of his alarm was to call to him a policeman from another direction than that in which the carriage went.
“What is it, Mr. Carter?” asked the officer, coming up on a run, and recognizing the famous detective.